#TALENTED FOR D A Y S HERSELF

[uhdrienne]

⋆⁺₊❅. 'tis the damn season

🍂 feat: old flame!lee jihoon x actress!reader

🍂 genre: sfw, fluff, angst, exes to lovers, city to town life

🍂 wc: ~8.5k

🍂 summary: an actress yet to make it big in the city, you return to your hometown for christmas for the first time since leaving. seasons have changed, along with life as you know it. jihoon, however, has not, and as you spend the festive season with him this year, you struggle to get past what your life could have been if your decision had been different.

🍂 author's note: merry christmas! nothing like a christmas story to really feel the season <3 there's another note right at the bottom if you'd like to know how the story came about... but meanwhile, enjoy the story and as always, let me know what you think 🎄

T h i s Y e a r

The trees outside the window pass in a blur. Your manager glances at you from the passenger seat, and you notice it from the periphery of your vision.

"You're excited to go home for Christmas, no?"

"I am," You reply, but your voice, try as you might to make it sound enthusiastic in the spirit of the festive holiday, your voice comes out hollow, empty.

Your manager clicks his tongue. "Then try to sound like it. Your parents would not be happy to see how sullen their daughter has become."

"Nothing has happened to me, Ray," You murmur. "I just... going home after so long..."

"That happens to every star I work with," Ray remarks. "Always so jarring for them to go home."

"Other stars, yes," You reply quietly. "I...am not one."

"Not with that attitude, you aren't!" Ray chirps. "You just haven't bloomed yet. Remember the feedback about your role in 'Blacklist'? The papers praised it."

"It was just a cameo, Ray. And it all died down within a week," You remind him, not unkindly, as you are still appreciative that he wanted to compliment you. "I think the agency wouldn't lose out if my contract isn't renewed."

"Nonsense!" Ray declares as the car pulls onto a familiar bridge. Up ahead, you see old thatched roofs, the houses looming larger as you near the village. "I will talk with them, see what auditions we can put you up for. You're talented, just undiscovered."

You chuckle. "Thanks."

"Have a good Christmas break, Y/N," Ray says comfortingly, as the car finally pulls to a stop in front of your front door. "It's the season to be with your family. Don't think about work."

You nod, beginning to clamber out of the car. "You too, Ray. See you in a couple weeks."

As the car finally pulls out of the cobbled path, you gather your belongings about you, and look up at a shout of your name.

"Dad?"

"My dear girl!" Your father enthuses, drawing you into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home, sweetie. Oh, you've lost weight, haven't you?"

"Hm? No, not that much," You smile at him. "I'm looking forward to eating my body weight in Mom's food, though."

"She's more excited to have you home," Your father laughs. "You coming home has been all she can talk about nowadays. I think Mrs. Lee and Jihoon have had enough--"

Your blood freezes at the mention of that name. "What?"

"Mrs. Lee and Jihoon, of course."

"O-Of course." You stammer. Thankfully, your dad doesn't pick up on it as he relieves you of your luggage.

Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon.

A big oak tree, an old swing, two children perched upon it, side by side.

"I'm gonna go to the big city one day!" The young girl whoops.

"For what?" The boy asked.

"To live! Mom says there are tall buildings and cars and big shops. Wouldn't it be so fun?"

"Sounds boring." The boy yawns.

"I'll bring you along!" The girl says obstinately. "I'll show you how fun it can be."

"Fine," The boy replies, swinging his small feet back and forth. "Let's go together when we grow up."

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"Come on! I think your mother's going to freak herself out if we don't start going over."

"Coming!"

"I still don't get what you're doing in that grotty town."

"It's my hometown, Rina."

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot you came from a forest." Your (kind of) friend's voice drawls on the other end. "I'm off, I have a YSL fitting in like twenty minutes. I'll catch you soon if you decide to leave, yeah?"

"Okay, b-" The line beeping cuts you off. You lie back on your bed, massaging your temples.

Your mother had laugh-cried her way into a hug once you made it through the door, lamenting how hard it was to see her star daughter these days. It was all you could do to bite your tongue and avoid correcting her.

You were not a star. Not at all. While your friends in the industry had piles of scripts waiting for their perusal and selection, you simply accepted whatever you got.

You didn't miss the poorly concealed smiles of mock pity directed at you when everyone shared about their recent works at afterparties. But you knew you always did your best at every role you got, no matter how small they were. Yet... there were moments when you wondered if hard work truly surpassed luck and star quality.

Your muddled mind shifts back to the setting in the kitchen as happy voices and laughter drift upstairs. The look on Jihoon's face when you made eye contact for the first time in almost three years stops you in your tracks.

He looked as relaxed and calm as ever, dressed in a comfy-looking sweater and loose pants. Nursing a cup of coffee with his mother in your kitchen where he'd been countless times, he still resembled the young man you'd left behind.

But gone was the softness in his eyes from when you last saw him. Replacing it was a certain coldness, a tough look you couldn't place. That look had only intensified as he took you in, dressed in a thick fleece coat, black pants, and boot heels to match. He had nodded his head to you in greeting, but it had lacked warmth. Understandable, really.

You had flounced upstairs after the necessary greetings, citing a large load of luggage to unpack as your excuse.

A knock on your door makes you flinch. You open it, and pause at the person standing outside. "...Jihoon."

"Your mom says to come down. She says the food's almost ready and you look too thin."

"Right. Right, I'm coming."

He shrugs and then turns away. His footsteps draw away from your room.

You pinch colour into your cheeks, the way you did when things got too hard, and brace yourself.

Jihoon was staying for dinner.

"So tell us what you acted in!" Your mom says cheerfully as she heaps food onto your plate. "I keep wanting to keep up with your shows, but it's strange, I haven't seen them on the main channel. Are they on streaming platforms or something?"

Your face falls slightly. She was right, half right to be precise. Your shows rarely ever made it onto mainstream television. And if they did, your roles were usually so small you'd just appear onscreen once. With that, it was borderline impossible for you to appear on Netflix.

Your dad rolls his eyes. "It's Christmas, dear. We should give her a break. Why, she came home to see all of us! We know how busy she is."

You shoot a grateful glance to your dad, which he returns with a wink as he raises his glass of wine. "Cheers to that."

As everyone at the table raises their glasses to meet in a sweet clinking sound, and your lips meet the rim to drink, you almost forget the way Jihoon's eyes strayed away from his plate to you when your mother brought your job up.

You're about to wash up when your father enters your room.

"Dad!" You smile, slightly buzzed by the wine and the relaxation you felt, now that you were getting used to being home. "What's up?"

I just thought I'd check in on you before we turn in," He opens his arms, and you gladly step into them. He hums as he pats your head. "Are you getting used to being here? I know it's very different from the city, but.."

"I love it, Pop," You interrupt, understanding his worry. "Nothing can really beat home, right?"

"Right," He murmurs, and he coughs to mask up a suspiciously quick sniff. "Right. Well... sleep early. Tomorrow we'll go on a stroll, and see all the stuff you've missed. We can go visit Jihoon, if you want."

"Jihoon?"

"Yeah! He's got a big truck now, helping out with the family courier business... I heard he wanted to go to the city, but he's a good man, staying back here to help his parents."

You steel yourself to ask, "Did he ever say why he wanted to go to the city?"

"Hmm... he told your mom he wanted to go find an old friend when she asked. But, I suppose that can wait for him, since he hasn't mentioned leaving at all for a while."

You only hum in response.

"He didn't show it much, but his mother says he became much more quiet after you left. You two must have been really close, huh?"

The closest in the world, you wanted to tell him, but your own mouth just couldn't utter the words.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Flowers? For me?"

"Don't make a big fuss,"

"Tulips and baby's breath! Damn, you know the way to my heart. Hold on, I'll find a vase."

"Be quick. I'm taking you somewhere and we can't be late for it."

"Is it a reservation outside the town? Jihoon, I told you that breakfast place is so expensive for absolutely no rea-"

"It's not a reservation. I've already decided, we're going to the 24-hour diner since you said you like their waffles. Somewhere else."

"You're turning red. What's up?"

"The sky. Now hurry up."

He ended up bringing you to see the sunrise. He kissed you on the cheek in the backseat of his father's (much smaller back then) truck and when you got home close to noon, he brought you to the door, stumbled out a shaky and rushed "I like you", and squeezed your hand when you smiled at him.

It was the first of many dates, snuggling on the couch, overdramatic arguments about whether Rose let Jack freeze, and above all, the first moments of a lifetime spent together. You both knew it was a given.

T h i s Y e a r

"Uncle," Jihoon greets your father before his eyes land on you. His mouth tightens.

"Hi," You say meekly, feeling like the seven-year-old girl who would hide behind her parents to do introductions on her behalf. He doesn't respond, simply lets his eyes pass over you and back to your father.

Your dad doesn't seem fazed, as he remarks, "Cleaning the truck, Hoon? It's a good brand you've got there. Impressed whenever I see it."

Jihoon lets out a polite laugh. "Yes, well... I thought I'd invest in a good one since it'll be used for a while."

Your father turns to you. "Have you ever sat in a truck?"

You shake your head no. You never got to do that on set either.

He claps his hands. "Wonderful! Jihoon agreed to bring you out on a spin around the town. I have to pick up some things for your mom for Christmas Eve, you know how she gets. And I didn't think you'd want to spend your holiday grocery shopping with me. I'd feel at ease if Jihoon is here."

Your face tightens. "What do you mean?"

Jihoon clears his throat. "Uh-"

"You two were inseparable," Your father explains cheerfully. "Nothing like a good catch-up! Jihoon, drive safe, yeah?"

And then he's backing down the walkway, waving to you both. And now it's just you and your ex-boyfriend.

Jihoon looks away from you. "Get in, I guess."

And you do. No matter what Jihoon said, it always had a magnetic effect on you. Even if that same voice is now laced with unfamiliarity and slight coldness, you wouldn't say no to him.

Soon enough you're cruising through the small town, Jihoon's eyes trained on the road. As he slows down at a red light, you hesitantly ask, "How is everything with you?"

"Fine," He answers curtly, with no further elaboration.

Well. You can't say you were surprised.

You swallow and lean back into the seat.

"It's a nice truck," You remark lamely, in a desperate hope of starting conversation. "Your dad finally decided to get a new one?"

"It isn't my dad's," Jihoon replies, monotone still. "It's mine."

"Oh."

You should have known. The truck was much larger, its seats bigger than what you remember sitting in countless times as a teenager when his dad would pick you both up from school or to each other's houses.

After a short silence, you ask once more, "Where are we going?"

"To the coast. Your dad said youmissed the place."

"That's nice," You murmur back, emotions already deflated.

Of course, it had to be the coast. He brought you there to see the sunrise, and that was where you'd finally made it official. Clearly, the memories were just as raw for him, as you noticed him physically gritting his teeth as he stopped the truck.

"We don't have to go there-" You begin, but he cuts in stiffly. "I'm bringing you here to kill time while your dad does his stuff. Don't be mistaken."

"Right," You clear your throat awkwardly. "Of course not."

You're wondering how painful it would be to throw yourself out of the truck in embarrassment when your phone rings. It's Ray, so you mumble a quick "sorry" to Jihoon, who doesn't react, and pick up.

"Ray?"

"Hey, Y/N. How's the holidays so far?"

"Good? What's up?"

"Um..."

"Ray," You tease slightly, "You never call just to ask about my holidays. What's going on?"

"So...I just got back the results for your audition for 'Freak Show'."

"How is it?" You ask, breath caught in your throat. "Ray?"

A heavy sigh comes across the line. "I'm sorry, sweets. I know how much you wanted this role."

Your heart drops, and so does your expression.

"I'm trying to at least get you a supporting role since you liked the script so much, I'll let you-"

"Ray." You take a soft breath. Ray's voice halts. "Yeah?"

"Forget it."

"But-"

"Please... just forget it," You almost sound like you're begging. "I can't sit through doing another role no one's even going to remember. I've worked my ass off, Ray, I've gone for thousands of auditions for the past seven years, and not once have I ever gotten a callback for a lead role. I even tried to re-audition, but that damn assistant director spread the word of my so-called 'desperation', my fucking ex-manager did that stupid interview with the TV, and I ended up nowhere!"

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry," You sigh immediately, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry about that. I'm really thankful that you help me, always. Without you, I might have been entirely jobless and the agency would have fired me."

"Oh, hun," Your manager murmurs comfortingly. "Like I said, you're a good actress. Really good. It's just a pity things went south and you met that assistant director who wanted to screw with you. Otherwise, you'd be on the front pages everywhere now."

"I...It's fine. I'll live. Just, Ray..."

"Hm?"

"Don't tell Rina and the rest if they call to ask, okay?"

"Your friends..?"

"Yeah. I... I want to tell them myself." More like no, you never want them to know. You can already see the fake disappointment on Rina's face when she whips her phone out to tell the chat made up of almost twenty actresses.

Ray agrees, and he tells you again not to stress too much before cutting the call. You lean against the cushion of your seat, closing your eyes, and when someone clears his throat you flinch. "Jihoon. Sorry."

He doesn't respond, simply looks at you as if you're a stranger, and you swallow nervously. "My manager called," You explain feebly, not that he even asked.

He nods once. "I heard." His eyes aren't exactly angry, they are still slightly cold, but there's something in them that seems more curious now.

You rub your eyes to snap yourself out, and you muster a smile at him. "So where are we going?"

"To get food," He replies. "That hot dog truck you liked a lot back then is here today, my dad told me."

"Oh, that's okay--"

"Don't eat hot dogs anymore?" He asks wryly, as he puts the truck in reverse and starts parking.

"Of course I do," You reply immediately, folding your arms. "Are you mad? Giving up on snacking?"

A flicker of a smile appears across his typically stoic face before he schools it and reverts to his stern expression. "I wouldn't know. You're stick thin, anyone would think you gave up fast food."

"Well. That just comes with exercise and occasional diets. And I'm not as thin as you say," You murmur. "But no. I wouldn't give up late-night cravings. My manager's one of the nicer ones."

Jihoon snorts slightly as he turns the engine off. "Thank goodness for that, I suppose?"

You shrug, and motion for him to lead the way to the hot dog stall as you climb out of the truck. You follow him down a rough patch of grass and rocks, all while he maintains a healthy distance. The sun warms your skin, and you breathe in the fresh, salty coast air.

"I'm sorry about the role, by the way. You must have worked extra hard for it," Jihoon says suddenly, hands in his pockets as he walks next to you, now back on solid ground, and you turn to face him, your face colouring in... embarrassment? Shame? "You heard my manager?"

"No. Just you, I put the pieces together."

Oh. "Right."

"Is it not...going well?" He motions with his hand vaguely. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"It's fine, Jihoon," You stifle a reluctant laugh. "You can ask."

He stays silent so you continue. "I'm not getting any lead roles, only minor ones even if I put everything I have into it..." You sigh. "My friends don't really mention me, or they make little remarks about my rejections. As an adult, you'd think I shouldn't be bothered, but it just... it gets loud sometimes."

A few moments pass, your sneakers shuffling through the sand, when Jihoon finally says, "They don't seem like friends to me."

You let out a half-chuckle. "That's how showbiz is, I guess."

"No," Jihoon disagrees. "It doesn't matter if it's the industry or not. Friends are here to lift you up, not celebrate your downs. They shouldn't be doing that to you."

He goes silent after and as you get nearer, the food truck coming into view, you mull over what he just told you.

"I guess you’re right," You finally concede after a small pause. "They really shouldn't."

He says nothing more about it, and simply exchanges swift greetings with the stall owner, who seems to know him well. You try to smile weakly at the owner, but with your emotions still running high, you can only hope it doesn't come out as a grimace.

He gets hot dogs for both of you, and you look on gratefully and with a little surprise as he reels off your order word for word: a large hot dog bun with mustard, ketchup, and extra grilled onions. He gets a soda for each of you too, and you almost groan in satisfaction when the food is done. He looks on, looking slightly amused when you dig in.

"Not your usual fine dining concept, sorry." He says as he watches you take a big bite.

"Are you kidding? Way better," You mumble through your mouthful, and he snorts before taking a bite himself.

Just like that, the tension from earlier dissolves into something a little softer, a little gentler.

"So," Jihoon says later, as you're polishing off your soda. "What's been up with you these few years?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't come back to visit your parents. They don't say it, but they get really worried when you don't call."

"Oh."

He raises his eyebrows at you, prompting you to go on.

"Life gets in the way." You explain, resigned. "I want to call home too, but I'm either fighting for roles that I know I'll never get or I'm trying out for more auditions. Plus, the past few years weren't a good time."

"Why?"

"Old manager," You reply, frowning at the sheer memory of the mess you engulfed yourself in two years ago. "Put me on stupid diets for no reason and when this assistant director snitched on me for being 'desperate for roles' when I tried reapplying, he gave a secret interview to the reporters."

Jihoon scowls slightly. "Right. I heard about that. Prick." You laugh out loud. "Yeah. A real prick."

"And then?"

"Not much else. I was trying to clear my name, and by then I wasn't getting that many roles either."

Jihoon doesn't say anything, and you steal a glance at him. He looks... conflicted would be a good way to put it. Like he doesn't know what to say or do.

Before you can think of something to say, anything to dispel the sudden tension, he suddenly gets to his feet. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay... is everything alright?" Was that your imagination, or did he just clench his teeth?

"Fine." Yup, he was definitely gritting his teeth. You're beyond perplexed. But with how angry he already looks, you're not sure you want to aggravate him further, so you get up, toss your cup into the bin, and follow him back to the truck.

The whole journey is spent in silence, and a lot of uncertain glances from your end.

When he drops you off at your home twenty minutes later, he doesn't say anything as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Jihoon?" You ask, turning to face him in the seat.

"Yes?"

His face freezes slightly when you tell him, "Thanks for today. I had lots of fun."

He swallows nervously, evident in the bob of his Adam's apple as he shrugs. "No problem."

"And…um… thanks for still remembering my hot dog order." You say softly, before turning to climb out of the truck.

When you get to your front porch, and then climb the stairs to your room, you look out the window.

He's still there.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Did you just say you're...leaving?"

"I got the audition. It's my big break... if I don't take the chance now, I might not ever get to. It's my dream, you know that."

"What else?"

"Huh?"

"Your dreams this, your big break that. Don't you have anything else to say?"

"...What can I say?"

"What do you mean, what can you say? What about us?"

T h i s Y e a r

The next morning arrives in the form of your mother standing over your bed. “Hey, darl, wake up!”

“Mhmm?” You mumble from under your covers and you hear her chuckle before she peels your blanket back.

“Jihoon’s mom is coming over to help with Christmas Eve dinner,” she explains. “But I totally forgot about the school donation.”

“School donation…?” What is she talking about?

“Oh! Right. So we donate a bunch of food every year to your old school. You remember it, right? Near the Methodist church?”

“Yeah,” You yawn, stretching up in bed and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“They pass it to orphanages for children who don’t have Christmas dinner this season. I’ve had it prepared since this morning, but with Jihoon’s mom and the dinner, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop by the school,” She looks regretful. “Would you mind helping with that, dear?”

“Sure,” You reply, cracking your neck. “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry, mom.”

“Thanks, hun,” Your mom says, looking relieved. “It’s quite a lot. We had lots to give this year. Mrs Lee said she’d send Jihoon to help you.”

“Huh?”

“I wouldn’t send you into the cold holding tons of heavy bags!” Your mom fusses. “Wash up and eat before you go — your dad got the most amazing bread yesterday.”

After she leaves, you sit there, wide awake.

Jihoon is coming.

That fact alone has you hurrying to tidy yourself for god knows what, even applying a bit of mascara and lip gloss to salvage your face.

Your phone pings as you start tidying your table, and you look at Ray's name popping on the screen.

"Remember your audition and screen test with the director of 'Who Knows Why'?" The text reads. "He's making the final decision for the female lead of his new holiday film. This guy has high standards and his films are very popular, but he likes picking new faces over the same old stars. A few of your friends are in the choices too, but...I just have a feeling this could be it. I'll let you know again. Happy holidays!"

You sigh. Who Knows Why made headlines for weeks when it hit the cinemas, critics and film connoisseurs alike singing its praises. Unless a miracle selected you while you were sleeping, you very much doubted you would make it past.

By the time you get downstairs and have a few pieces of the toasted bread — which is amazing, all warm and toasty and fresh — the doorbell rings, and your mom rushes to get the door.

“Mrs Lee!” She exclaims, hurriedly ushering the other lady into the house. “Thanks for coming by today.”

As the two exchange pleasantries, Jihoon steps into the house, removing his boots and smiling slightly when your mother coos over him too.

He merely nods in acknowledgement when he sees you. The contrast makes your stomach clench slightly.

“Ah, Jihoon,” His mother says. “Make sure to help Y/N with the bags of food, yeah?”

He simply nods again, a soft “okay” escaping his mouth, before he approaches you.

“Let’s get going,” He says conversationally.

“Okay,” You reply nervously. He raises his eyebrows as he walks to the heaping table.

He picks out most of them. Especially the biggest and bulkiest ones.

It’s fifteen minutes later when you’re walking down the path when he breaks the silence. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” You ask. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Nothing. I thought with the role thing… never mind.”

“Oh.” Truth be told, you’d barely thought of it since the hot dog outing. “Uh… I mean, what’s past is past, right?”

“I suppose.” He replies, non-committal.

And there it goes again. The choking, awkward silence that just doesn’t seem to dissipate no matter what either of you.

There’s a bit of fuss when you reach the school, what with all the grunt work passing over the food and making sure the right people get the right things, and that provides a little relief, at least for an hour or so.

After it’s all over, you find yourself at the school gates where you first met Jihoon, with the very same man, now twenty years on.

“It hasn’t changed much,” You observe.

Jihoon shrugs. “I guess. It’s like very little time passed.”

That roadblock comes back.

You swallow. “Um, Jihoon.”

He makes a humming sound in response.

“Are we…okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” You admit, pulling at your sweater. “You seemed angry when we were out the other day and…”

“I’m not mad.”

“Right.”

You're not convinced.

“I’m really not.” He insists, although you haven’t even said anything to contradict him.

“I know. You said so.”

“Well, you sure don’t sound like you believe me.” He says, rather scathingly.

You shoot him a quizzical look. It was a choice between acting dumb or admitting that after all this time, he could still read you like a book.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.” He laughs bitterly. “You never do, anyway.” He turns away as he says this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, slightly affronted.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” He says in a sudden show of annoyance. “Not even one call all these years, and when you finally show up back here, I find out how shit your so-called dream life has been. But I don’t know! It could just be me.”

“Jihoon-”

“And I’m just thinking, you gave up all of this?” He waves his arm outward. “You gave up everything back here… for what you have now? Was it even worth it in the end?”

“I thought that was what I wanted.” You try to answer, but it comes out pathetically. He was spot-on.

You left your family, your home, the love of your life… for something that ended up being unworthy in the slightest.

And you were now reaping the consequences.

“I…” Jihoon rubs his face, his anger now cooled into something like resignation. “You made your choice. I get that. I’m trying to understand. I just… I don’t know why you thought the life you have now, with fake friends and unnecessary drama, was better than peace.”

"It wasn't that I wanted to go through all of that... I --"

He stares at you, waiting for you to go on. But it's as if someone has sealed your mouth shut, as nothing escapes it.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"You won't even bother trying? Will you fight for us?"

"How can I? The agent made it clear... once I step out, dating is out of the question.."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave for some big city, and I'll just be stuck here, waiting for someone who's already made her choice?"

"Jihoon, I... fuck, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"All of it. I let you down."

Never had you seen your boyfriend regard you with as much disappointment as he did now.

"You did, Y/N. You really did. God, I thought--I thought we mattered more than those billboards."

"Jihoon-"

"But there's no point, right? You already made your decision. You don't intend to look back at all, do you?"

"I-"

Jihoon sighed, and bent his head in resignation, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally raised his head. "Then why are you still here?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I won't hold you back. Go on."

Silence, the raging kind that had never once blossomed between you both, took over.

After what seemed like an eternity, your mouth opened.

"We... we leave on the 17th."

He doesn't look up from his lap as you exit his room, down the creaking stairs of his family home for the last time, and you come face to face with his mom.

"Chase your dreams, dear," She'd said, clasping your hands, although you thought you saw unshed tears in her eyes as your own streaked down your face. "Come home and visit us sometime. Jihoon will be okay."

You did leave on the 17th. Jihoon turned up with his parents, and as his mom kissed you on the forehead and gave you her blessings, his gaze stayed on you, but he didn't step forward to say goodbye.

He kept looking on as you climbed into the car, and in the rearview mirror as it pulled away, you thought you saw him start to raise his hand in a momentary wave.

But then he was far gone behind you, and now you only had the road ahead for company.

T h i s Y e a r

The truck ride back is silent again. Jihoon doesn't even look in your direction, except to check his blind spots and adjacent lanes. Your mind is equally messed up, thinking about everything he said to you.

Was he right? Had you lost your way, and bargained everything you could have lived with, in exchange for friends who couldn't care less about you, and a career akin to a peakless, uphill slope?

Finally, when the silence becomes a thick, choking fog, you finally speak up. "Jihoon?"

He glances to you for a fraction of a second. "Yes?"

"If..." You struggle to find the words. "If... I hadn't made that choice..."

His head turns to you fully, his gaze now sharp. "What?"

You have to plan out what you want to say, word for word, before you go on. "If I chose to stay back then... would we have lasted? Would we have..."

Jihoon turns back to the road. "Would we have stayed together? Do you want my honest answer?"

You nod imperceptibly. "More than anything."

"We would," He says quietly, but with no hesitation as he makes a left. "I would have told you that we should set up a joint account and plan for a home together in maybe three years. I would've told you that we could go on weekly grocery runs and start thinking about moving in together. And I probably would have told you that I love you."

You freeze.

"It sounds unnecessary and stupid, but I don't want you to burden yourself with that, now," He says, sitting back and looking straight ahead. "I know you don't belong here, or to me, anymore. That's life, and we all move on, one way or another. Plus it's Christmas, and you're here now, so.... you should enjoy it before you leave."

And that's that. Just a reminder for you to enjoy yourself before you inevitably have to go. None of you need to speak to know that the conversation is over.

The drive resumes in silence.

You can't sleep. You've tossed and turned a million times, head pounding with exhaustion, but something's just stopping your eyes from shutting. Unfortunately, you know exactly why.

Jihoon's there in your mind. Sometimes the calm, steady person he's always been, sometimes a roaring, dark figure glaring at you the way he did when you said you were leaving.

Around two in the morning, you finally sit up. You have to go to Jihoon. You don't know what you're going to say, but if you don't find him, he will never stop haunting you.

You slip on a warm sweater and shoes, and gently close the front door behind you. The village is truly ready for the festivities, all twinkling golden lights and lightly falling snow. But none of that matters as you pad through the white fluff towards Jihoon's home.

When he opens the door, he's dishevelled, but doesn't show signs of having just woken up. "Uh... it's two a.m...?"

"I know it is," You say apologetically. "I'm sorry. I, uh... I couldn't sleep."

He raises his eyebrows. "Ah. I see."

You're beginning to regret this. Maybe you should've thought this through. "Look, it's okay, I'm really sorry for bothering you--"

"Guess that makes two of us," He says conversationally, as if it isn't the dead of night. "Come in. It's cold."

You wait for him to walk in before following him into the house. Try as you might, you just can't shake the feeling of nostalgia that rushes through you as you walk around the house you've visited a million times.

You know that his favourite grey mug is on the cabinet shelf above the sink. The earl grey cookies he can't live without is on the counter. The stairs still creak a little when you step on the floorboards nearby. You know him and everything that belongs to him. You know it all.

You take a seat at his table. "Will your parents be upset that I came at this hour?"

He eyes you wryly. "You know silly questions get silly answers."

You know your question is nearly pointless. You've left late, slept over, even gotten drunk in this house and his parents still doted on you nevertheless.

You shrug. "Doesn't hurt to ask."

He hums as he reaches for a hot cocoa mix. "Then my answer is no. Nobody's upset."

Five minutes later, he places a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of you and sits down.

"So, bad dreams?"

"Huh?"

"You said you couldn't sleep. Did you have a bad dream?"

"No. Not really bad. Just... disturbing."

He raises his eyebrows. "I think that's the same thing."

"Dreams are like... like movies." You try to explain, a smile forming on your face. "Bad dreams are horrors and thrillers. Disturbing dreams are more like... like they could be any genre, but some parts and some scenes affect you more."

"Right," He says. "So Titanic was disturbing, then?"

"Very!" You blurt before you can stop yourself. "Because it still confuses me to this day, how on earth didn't Jack fit on the door?"

He breathes out a chuckle, leaning back on his chair. "It confuses me how you compare dreams to movies. They're in two complete worlds altogether."

"Admit it. It's a good analogy."

"It is," He admits. "I didn't think of that before."

You look at him, and you wonder how you can continue the conversation from here. He sits there for a few more minutes and stands up. "I'll go set up a room for you. It's snowing pretty badly, and you'll be soaked through if you walk back. I'd drive you, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to see anything."

He starts to leave the room, and you grab his arm. "Jihoon."

He looks down at your physical contact point. "Yes?"

"Earlier, when you said...when you said that movies and dreams are in two different worlds."

He looks at you. Staring unblinkingly, eyes never avoiding yours. He seems just as about to ready to confront this truth as you are.

Your dream was the movie screen, and his dream was you. Two completely, otherworldly different ones, but dreams and wishes nonetheless. Maybe now that you were once again back where you started, they could finally align.

"You weren't just talking about actual dreams, were you?"

Jihoon stiffens and steps back. "We're not doing this again."

"No, wait --" You say, closing your eyes to gather your thoughts. "I'm not going to make you tell me anything. I just want to know if you meant something else."

Jihoon swore he would give himself a pat on his back as he leaned down to look you square in the eye. "And if I said I did?"

You swallow and look at him. Your heart is pounding, and all logical thinking has been long thrown out of the window. "I'd thank the heavens for bringing me home."

His mouth finds yours and you pull him down to meet you more. It's not a cold war anymore. It's no longer a battle to see who can withstand the silence better.

And there is no more silence, you realise, because Jihoon is sniffling and your cheeks are stained with two warm droplets. "Jihoon?"

"I'm sorry," He mumbles, making no effort to withdraw. "I couldn't help it. I...I missed you. Not just this," He squeezes your hand which has somehow intertwined with his, and you squeeze back with the little strength you can muster. "Just...you. Drinking hot chocolate in my kitchen in the middle of the night, being within two streets' distance of me... eating hot dogs in my truck and sending food when Christmas comes."

You blink back tears. "I'm sorry for missing out all these years."

"Don't be sorry," He replies, imperceptibly softly, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "Just be with me."

You spend the night. And the night after, and the one after that.

The next three days pass like a fever dream. You go skating at the outdoor rink with Jihoon, laugh at how he wobbles his way to you like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time, drink hot peppermint tea at a market stall after dinner, and let Jihoon tuck you into his coat on the walk home.

You didn't want this to end. No matter what. Ray hadn't yet gotten back to you on the audition results, and you decided to take it as a no and move on, just as you always did.

Of course, life always found a way to rear back and bite you hard, as your phone rings. With gloved hands, you pull it out of your coat pocket to see Ray's name again.

"Ray!" You chuckle, a little heady and happy from the day's events.

"So someone's having a good Christmas," Ray teases. "Well, my friend, it's going to get a lot better."

"What?" You ask, your boots crunching to a stop. Next to you, Jihoon also stops walking, his eyes wholly on you in concentration.

"The director of 'Who Knows Why'," Ray says, poorly concealed excitement in his voice. "He called me today, said he wants you to take the role! Your friends didn't get it even though they're so famous, and guess what? You did."

"Ray." You say, firmly. "Repeat that."

"You. Made. It. Out of over 100 actresses. I'm not joking!"

You freeze, look up and lock eyes with Jihoon, who raises his eyebrows in question.

"Oh, my god," You say, and it all comes out in a rush. "You're...you're serious."

"As a heart attack." Ray promises. "So, when can I come pick you up? Day after Christmas?"

"Ah." You hesitate. The filming would involve you....leaving. And if you were to stay and prepare for press tours, interviews, meet-and-greets... when were you returning?

"Can I call you back? I'll check..."

"Sure, hon," Ray replies cheerfully. "Go tell your folks the good news! They're gonna be thrilled."

You laugh weakly and then hang up. Then you turn to your lover (is he?).

"So, what was that about?" He asks, resuming the walk.

"I..."

At his concerned look, you finally sigh. "I got a lead role. In the film of a really popular director."

"That's amazing....oh." His face falls as he comes to the conclusion you fear. "Does that mean...you have to leave, don't you?"

You take a soft breath, shuffling your feet back and forth nervously. "I suppose so. I...I have to."

And to make matters worse, your phone pings with a text, your face souring as you read her message. Then, Jihoon watches as you put your phone back in your coat without another word.

"Who is that?" He demands. He knows he sounds like a little child, but he doesn't stop himself. He doesn't like the bitter expression on your face and that's all he knows.

"A friend." You reply.

"Real friend or...?"

You sigh and fish your phone out and pass it to him. He reads the simple "Fuck you" message from Rina, and undiluted anger crosses his face. "What the-"

You shrug. "She was probably one of the actresses hoping to be selected. Not much I can hide from you now."

He chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, we're not hiding the fact that you have to leave in maybe three days. Back to people like this-" He gestures to your phone. "- and who knows what else."

"I'll try to come back often," You say, although it doesn't seem convincing in the slightest. Jihoon doesn't buy a word of it either, judging by his expression.

"Really?" He says. "You haven't even been able to find time to come home for years now. I know you've gotten your big break and I'm happy for you, but... I don't know what to do if you leave for years on end again."

"I'll try to shuttle back and forth," You insist. "I have to."

"Well," Jihoon says, still looking at you doubtfully. "Don't make it an obligation."

"No, let's talk about it," You insist. "I just...I've never gotten a lead role before. It's not just... it's not just a role I can give up right away."

"Well, then choose. Tell me what you want." He replies, disappointment crossing his face.

"I...I haven't decided yet." You say lamely. "I need...I need a little more time to think."

He simply continues looking at you, before turning away and pacing back and forth. All you can do is watch him helplessly. "I just don't want to think about when this...will be over." Fling? Relationship?

It's as if he already knows what you're thinking about as he smiles sadly. "See, you don't even know what label to put on us."

"I just don't like when it has to be one over the other." You say, hugging yourself and staring at your shoes. "I've missed you. You know I love you and I want to continue seeing you, but I can't just give up on what I've wanted for so long."

But Jihoon is already shaking his head and starting to walk. "It doesn't have to be one way or another. Because I think you've already made your decision. I'm taking you home."

And it was happening all over again. Days had passed with no interaction with him, and even on Christmas Day itself, he was nowhere to be found.

Too fast, the evening when Ray came to pick you up loomed near. Your father helped you pack, but behind the reminders to bring your makeup bag and home slippers was a tinge of sadness. Your old folks didn't even know when they'd next see you.

When Ray comes out of the car to pick you up, out steps another lady with him, who nods to you in greeting.

"This is Rachel, the producer for the movie," Ray explains. "Since it’s gonna be a holiday romance-comedy, she wanted to visit your town to see what it looked like in Christmas."

You smile, and nod eagerly. "It's beautiful. You won't regret it."

Rachel smiles back, then speaks to Ray. "You guys stay here. I'll go take a quick walk and be right back."

As she leaves, you look at Ray. "Can we talk?"

Ray raises an eyebrow. "What about?"

"I... was wondering." You say. "I have a bit of a predicament at home. I'd like to stay longer. Could you maybe...push for the filming to be delayed?"

Ray looks surprised. "You want to wait?"

"More than anything."

A smirk starts blooming on Ray's face. "For a guy?"

At your delay, he slaps your shoulders. "Great! So, is the lucky guy totally alright with your job? That's a good man right there."

"Actually..."

You sprint towards Jihoon's house. Your attention is fixed on trying not to fall flat into the snow and to get to him as quickly as possible. Other townspeople are gawking, probably wondering why someone is in such a hurry, practically flying down the street.

At his door, you start knocking hard. His mom opens the door, and to your dismay, she explains that Jihoon hasn't been home since the morning.

"Maybe he's at the coast," She suggests, and you have never set off so fast before.

You implore Ray to drive you, and despite his reservations, a call from Rachel confirms that he has enough time to bring you there in his car for you to find Jihoon.

“So I’m now a party who can help you find the love of your life,” He teases you. “What do you owe me if this works out?"

"I'll make sure I land another film after this."

"You're on."

Ray barely puts the brakes on before you're opening the door. "I'll see you in a bit!"

"Should I prepare tissues?" He calls back. You pray not as you frantically scan your surroundings for a familiar, dark-haired man.

And like the heavens are answering you, you find him. Sat upon the roof of his truck, staring out at the coast at the setting sun.

"Jihoon?" You call as you get nearer to him. The man freezes, then turns slowly to face you. "I thought you were heading back. Why are you here?"

"To talk," You say softly, trying to catch your breath. "I... I think we left some things unsaid."

"No," He disagrees, crossing his legs over to face you while still sitting. "I owe you an apology."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have tried to make you choose me over your dreams. I know how hard you've been working, and you're finally getting to your peak... I should have supported you. I'm sorry. It was selfish of me."

"No," You insist, waving your hands. "I made that mistake first. Years ago, when I decided to leave, I didn't put you in front of my thoughts. I....I thought we'd be okay."

Jihoon shrugs and gives you a sad smile. "I'll always root for you. So... no hard feelings. Go ahead and shine. I promise we're okay. I'll never have bad feelings for you no matter what happens."

You shake your head. "That-"

"Y/N!" You hear Ray calling for you. Seriously? At this moment?

"What?" You hiss furiously.

"Check your phone!" You hear his hushed response.

"Later!"

"No! Now!"

You sigh and pull it out at his insistent glare, and when you look down at the message, your eyes light up. You shoot him a quizzical glance. Are you serious?

At his frantic nod, you turn back to Jihoon.

"You should go," Jihoon repeats. "They must be waiting for you."

"They are," You nod. He nods back, eyes not leaving yours.

"See you in a bit."

He cocks his head in confusion.

"Haven't you heard?" You smile a bit at his nonplussed expression.

"The filming location shifted."

"What?"

"I'll be here, apparently. For the next half a year, or so. The producer decided this place must be too good to pass up."

His jaw drops, and he slides off the truck, as if his surprise disabled his sense of balance. “You’ll be… here?”

“For a while,” You shrug nonchalantly, as if your heart isn’t beating fast and hard. “So, if… if you still want to talk, and maybe spend spring together… I’m down.”

He drops himself off the vehicle and his boots hit the ground with a crunch. “Say that again.”

You smile and take a few steps towards him. “I’m here for spring, Jihoon. And the seasons after that…we’ll figure it out one at a time. How does that sound?”

He lets out a laugh then, choked up but ecstatic. He makes sure, steady steps towards you, arms open in welcome and love, and as you step into his warmth, you let out a relieved, happy sigh and look up at him.

“Merry Christmas, Jihoon.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

N e x t Y e a r

"I forgot how cold it can get every time," Jihoon hisses as another gust of wind hits.

"It's worse in town," You tease. "I barely feel anything now."

"Yes, yes, you with your big girl city habits," He shivers. "I'll pick that bone with you once we get home, I swear."

"I'm looking forward to it." You chuckle, and he squeezes you tight. As resigned as he is to the eccentric habits you picked up in the city, he's just happy you're here to spend this Christmas with him. And the one next year, and the one after that.

Home. Our home. You were a part of his home, and him yours.

Yes, you thought, even as you leaned against him and felt him wrap his coat around you despite knowing you weren't cold at all. As long as you were with him, you were home.

a u t h o r ' s n o t e:

merry christmas eve! i hope you enjoyed this story every bit as much as i enjoyed writing it 🎄 i started thinking about this close to october (because i missed my eras tour experience so much 😭) and wondered if anyone would like a crossover between seventeen and tswift!! so here goes, in time for christmas and your spotify wrapped, 'tis the damn season 💌

🎼 refer below for the fic playlist (with lots of svt, taylor swift, and sweet, romantic christmas tracks)

taglist: @jeonghnie

f i c p l a y l i s t :

'tis the damn season -- taylor swift

mirrorball -- taylor swift

lover - taylor swift

paper rings - taylor swift

daylight - taylor swift

new year's day - taylor swift

ours - taylor swift

i love you, i''m sorry - gracie abrams

risk - gracie abrams

all my love - seventeen

falling for you - seventeen

headliner - seventeen

lie again - seventeen

second life - seventeen

to you - seventeen

my santa claus - jessie james decker

glow - brett eldredge

all i want for christmas is you - michael buble

kiss you this christmas - why don't we

take me home for christmas - dan + shay

[chippedchina-teacup]

Summary: And everything was going so well.

Word Count: 5,589

Warnings: Day drinking, arranged marriage, complicated family relationships, Walburga Black and her typical bullshit, If I've forgotten something don't hesitate to let me know

Next Chapter

A/N: So, I fucked up just a little bit, and when I posted this part last Friday it was from an older version. I literally edited and posted a version of this chapter from several edits ago, and didn't realize it. This continued on to the second chapter, which I posted today, and then I panicked and made both chapters private posts until I got home from work. Either way, it's fixed now and you can expect chapter three next Friday.

As the eldest daughter of an ancient pureblood family, (Y/N) Grey had an understanding, from a very young age, that she was to be watched constantly. Every move made, every stray comment – if such a thing even existed, every piece of clothing worn, would be observed, and then judged. From that judgment, an opinion would be formed. This opinion, once formed, could not, and would not, be easily changed, and this opinion, this opinion based on nearly nothing, would determine how not only how (Y/N)’s life would go, but the lives of her siblings – her older brother’s, and later her younger sister’s, lives and reputations would, at least in part, be determined by her own actions.

It was this very opinion, in fact, that every young witch’s reputation was based on. As far as anyone within the acceptable families in society were concerned, (Y/N) could have killed a man in cold blood in the middle of Diagon Alley during broad daylight, and she still would have been seen as a respectable young lady from the right sort of family with a good upbringing, so long as she was careful not step outside of her predetermined place in society.

In order to make absolutely certain that the family name ‘Grey’ remained in the good graces of the so-called Sacred 28 (and, as her grandmother had so often reminded her, might one day join the rest of the 28 on the pureblood registry), there were certain things that were expected of her. Certain behaviors and actions were highly encouraged - and others were actively discouraged, if not outright forbidden.

When she was only three years old, (Y/N)’s mother, Anne Grey (née. Bulstrode), had signed her daughter up for ballet lessons. When little (Y/N), with wide innocent eyes and an inquisitive tilt to her head, had asked her mother why, why she had to have ballet lessons while her much-adored older brother was permitted to take fencing lessons, her mother’s answer was simple: “To help you become more graceful.”, this response was paired with a firm guiding hand on the young girl’s back as the mother and daughter entered the large open studio for the first time.

Her mother’s answer was one far too simple for (Y/N) to understand at the time, but it didn’t matter. As always, (Y/N) did as was expected of her. In time, she came to enjoy those lessons. It was one of the few times she wasn’t being watched by the predatory gazes of the 28 - who took every moment to look for any perceived misdeed, and reveled  in the destruction of their victim’s reputation.

Her instructor for those lessons had been a squib born to a pureblood family who, when she showed no talent for magic, had sent her to live with a distant cousin in far-off Russia. She had had no talent for magic, true enough, but had excelled in ballet under the careful tutelage of her government-sponsored instructor, and soon found herself travelling the world as part of the renowned Bolshoi Ballet. 

Now unable to perform after having broken her ankle some years back, Madame Markova, as she was known to her students, taught ballet to young girls from families like hers. She did not envy them, she did not coddle them. Instead, she welcomed muggle girls into her classes as well, forcing women who, like her mother, placed too much value in blood purity to swallow their pride if they wanted their daughters in her class. And they did.

It was for this reason, and this reason alone, that (Y/N) had decided almost immediately after meeting her new instructor that she liked her very much - it took a special kind of person to leave Druella Black speechless as she had been the first morning when she was given a thorough scolding from the other woman, who had told her, when Druella criticized Narcissa’s form to “...either do better yourself, or keep that ugly mouth of yours shut and let my girls learn,”. 

The older woman had a way about her that prompted terror at the very thought of letting her down, and every girl in her class did her best to prevent such a devastating thing from ever happening. In turn, Madame Markova taught her girls to be the best – as she had been – and would allow no outside interference in her methods. After all, it was of the utmost importance to women like Walburga Black and her cousin Druella that the children of the 28 were given the very best, taught by the very best, and, in some situations, even they had to make an exception to their own self-imposed code of bigotry. Specifically, if the best of the best made it quite clear what would happen otherwise.

Other things that (Y/N) needed to learn, however, were able to be taught by witches and wizards either unwilling or unable to stand up to the 28. (Y/N)’s etiquette lessons, her horseback riding lessons, and just about anything else that it was decided in some arbitrary fashion that good daughters of wealthy pureblood families with the right sort of upbringing should learn in order to be considered respectable young ladies with a good upbringing, were taught by wizarding tutors approved of and used by members of the 28.

The result was that anything and everything said in those lessons would, eventually, get back to the rest of the 28. Even so, (Y/N) could usually count on her tutors, to some extent, being willing to indulge her whims, so long as she had a proper chaperone, in fear of upsetting any member of the 28 – even, maybe especially, the children whose mothers would conveniently arrange for their disappearance.

(Y/N), eventually accompanied by her younger sister Claire, would often be permitted to roam the winding trails of the forest on their family’s property. Their half-terrified instructor trailing behind them afraid of what might happen to him if one of the girls was to be injured, even on accident.

(Y/N) and her older brother, Kieran, before Hogwarts, had been allowed to act out various scenes from the older boy’s history of magic textbooks. Their play fighting with wooden swords and play wands, enchanted to give the illusion of giving off harmless ribbons of light, clashing as the duo rounded the corners of the many hallways of their parents’ large manor home, often startling unsuspecting servants or men visiting their father on business. When, inevitably, one of them tripped, usually Kieran after tripping over his own feet or getting his wooden sword caught in (Y/N)’s skirt, their mother would rush to their aid from either the library or the drawing room to make sure her oldest two were alright. Occasionally little Claire would toddle out after her and would start giggling and pointing her fingers in delight at the mess that was made, and everyone would dissolve into fits of laughter.

As Claire got older and was able to keep up with her older siblings’ adventures, the three would often sneak off to the kitchens – to help the house elves or the kitchen maids with decorating little cakes and pastries, or to steal a biscuit or two and make sure they were good enough to be served. Mrs. Turner would always scold them for it, claiming they would spoil their appetites, all the while fighting a smile from overtaking her face as the siblings would grasp their spoils, wrapped neatly in a clean handkerchief, and scamper off to enjoy the treats in the garden.

It wasn’t any of this that really caused a problem for (Y/N). Her life, especially her early childhood, was comfortable and filled with wonderful memories.

Her father, Joseph, made a good living working for the ministry and was able to spoil his children with the money he had inherited as the heir to the Grey family when his father had passed. Both the London townhouse and the country estate were fully staffed with freed house elves and human servants alike, ready and willing to cater to the family’s every whim.

Anne spent her time volunteering at various charitable organizations, hosting dinner parties, and having beautiful dresses for any and every occasion made. If she wasn’t addressing invitations in the library or having a dress of the latest fashion fitted in her dressing room, she would usually be found in the drawing room embroidering, or reading, or entertaining her younger daughter with stories of adventure and romance or beautiful red sparkles the same way she had (Y/N) and Kieran when they had been little.

Kieran, while a few years older than (Y/N), had been incredibly close to his sister. It was the two of them against the world, especially when one of them needed an excuse to avoid one of the many social events the 28 held, and that they were expected to attend.

(Y/N)’s darling baby sister Claire, nearly eleven years younger, was the wild child of the three. Brave and adventurous, she lived to cause trouble, always wreaking havoc on the hosts of the dinner parties and galas (Y/N) and her family would attend. Never anything too awful, mostly it was harmless fun, but the one time, when Claire had decided to let a few pixies loose in the Black family’s ballroom during their annual Black and White gala, it was a complete and utter disaster. It was lucky for Claire, and the rest of her family too, that Orion, strange man that he is, found the entire situation rather funny. Had he not, it would have been a rather disturbing evening for little Claire, one where there would have been little anyone could have done to protect her.

No. None of this was the problem. What caused issues for (Y/N) was how very careful she had to be when making even the smallest of decisions. Her family was loving and kind, gracious and generous. They didn’t agree with much when it came to the ideologies of the 28. It was only a sense of self-preservation and a deep understanding that they alone would be unable to make any changes by crossing swords with those in power that prevented them from breaking with all but the most archaic of traditions. These were, perhaps, traits more common in those who had been sorted Slytherin in school, and with few exceptions, the Grey family had been almost exclusively comprised of Slytherins for nearly three hundred years – a fact they were all well aware they were ridiculously proud of, and which had become something of a family joke over the years.

While (Y/N)’s parents abhorred many of their peers’ actions, while they may have raised their children far differently than them, there was only so much that could be done to protect them from the realities of life within the 28. Eventually, (Y/N) knew, certain things that were expected of respectable young ladies from the right sorts of families with good upbringings, would be expected of her. Certain things that no one would be able to stop from happening, no matter how much they may or may not have wanted to.

When (Y/N) had just turned fourteen, Claire was three, her mother sat them both down on her favorite sofa in her favorite drawing room, and told her that, one day, not too far in the future, she would be expected to marry an upstanding young gentleman from the right sort of family with a good strong upbringing. That she would be expected to do her part to help raise the next generation of the 28. Anne explained all of this with a misty, faraway look in her eyes. As if she were remembering a time so long ago when her own mother had told her the same thing. And it had been nearly twenty years since that day, and nearly the same amount of time since she had married (Y/N)’s father. A man she had come to love with everything in her when, on their wedding night, he had not forced himself on her as she had expected he would, and whom she had loved more and more each year since.

It was the closest (Y/N) had ever come to rebelling. She had stood straight up from the sofa, hair bouncing off her back as she did so. She had wanted to scream, to shout. To tell the world that it wasn’t fair that she should have her whole future decided for her, despite how well it had turned out for her parents, simply because of the family she was born into. Instead, she had stood there for a second, taken a deep breath, and composed herself. (Y/N) had politely excused herself, ignoring Claire’s curious questions as to where she was going, and gone up the stairs to her bedroom as if in a trance. She could feel herself pulling out the chair to her desk, smoothing the back of her dark-grey wool skirt, sitting down in the chair and reaching for her favorite quill and ink and a sheet of the creamy stationery emblazoned with her initials. She saw her hands move across the page with the practiced grace of a young lady from the right sort of family with a good upbringing as she poured her heart out to her dearest friend, Regulus Arcturus Black, via the letter.

It was only as she stood in the owlery, nearly an hour later, with dried tears still staining her cheeks, as she gently stroked the feathers of her favorite owl that she felt the rest of that trance-like state slip away. Stealing herself, (Y/N) attached the letter, sealed with dark green wax and her personal seal, to her owl’s leg, whispered the desired destination to the owl with a cracked voice, and sent her off.

The next morning at Breakfast (Y/N) received Regulus’s response. He had done his best to try and comfort her, but he knew, much like anyone else with a similar upbringing, that there would be nothing he could do to help. Besides, he had pointed out in his typically wryly practical way, the earliest she could be married off to anyone was eighteen, four years off yet, and even then, there was no guarantee that her parents would arrange a marriage for her so soon after graduation. 

In the end, it didn’t matter, when (Y/N) showed her mother the letter Anne had agreed that Regulus was correct. It would be the most likely course of action for her and her husband to wait for some time before arranging for any sort of suitors to meet their eldest daughter. (Y/N)’s parents, as unusual as it may have been for anyone associated with the 28, did not wish to see their children miserable – even at their own expense. And (Y/N), as they had often reminded her, had always had a good head on her shoulders – this was said by the older woman with a fondly exasperated look at Claire who was busy sneaking pastries off the table and onto her lap for her energetic cruppy sitting at her feet. The toddler froze when she felt her mother’s gaze on her, and gave her best attempt at the smile she’d seen her older sister give to her tutors when she wanted something.

No, (Y/N) would have nothing to worry about. And with that, the subject was dropped.

–

When (Y/N)’s eighteenth birthday finally came around, she was able to celebrate her graduation and having received the highest marks in Slytherin for her class, with only a few close friends and a couple of drinks at a bar in London. No fiancé in sight.

Regulus gave her a bracelet, an intricately designed silver one resembling a snake. If the head of the snake was pulled away from where it rested against its body, a small silver dagger was revealed – he’d told her how he found it at an antique shop in a heavily magical arrondissement of Paris run by an old man who’d brought it back from his travels through Spain many years before. 

“I love it, Reg,” she had said, words muffled by his dress shirt as she pulled him into a tight hug, his own arms wrapped around her tightly, his nose buried in her hair. Severus, who had broken away from his studies as an apprentice potioneer for the evening, had shot him a look, not so successfully hiding his accompanying smirk behind his glass.

(Y/N), finally pulling away and missing Regulus’s familiar warmth the second she had, gave him a watch - silver with a black leather band, much like the one he had worn in school. The back was engraved with the date of his graduation, and the first few lines of his favorite poem. It was, perhaps, two years too late for it to be considered a proper graduation gift, but he hadn’t been able to attend his own graduation ceremony - having been off on some hair-brained scheme that had left him with unending nightmares, chronic pains that wracked his body and a nasty limp no healer had been able to do anything about, save for suggesting he use a cane. It was probably then, several days before he would turn twenty, and nearly a year since he had lost almost everything, that Regulus first started to realize how he truly felt for the young woman who had been his best, and sometimes only, friend for much of his childhood.

-

The following year, at nineteen, (Y/N) found herself being offered a job at the Daily Prophet. Just a short twice-weekly anonymous gossip column.

“We’ll sell papers by the dozen!” the frenzied editor had exclaimed, hastily shoving a quill behind her ear and grasping (Y/N)’s hands, pulling her out of the chair she had been sat in and dancing the pair about the room, (Y/N) laughing with glee as the other woman spun them about the cramped office in delighted half-mad circles, “Just think!” she had continued, spinning (Y/N) back into her seat and sending the wheeled chair skidding to a sudden stop next to a pile of haphazardly stacked papers and books, “You’ll have access to so much more with your connections!” And it was true. While the column entailed the fairly simple business of chronicling some of the juicier bits of information she, as a member of the 28, was privy to, it was enough to spark an interest in pursuing a further career at the paper, and the former Slytherin did so with all the ambition and fervor that could be expected of any of her peers.

-

Shortly after turning twenty, with still no sign of any impending engagement, she was offered a more permanent position as an investigative journalist for The Prophet. With the new job came an increase in pay, and (Y/N) found herself moving out of her parent’s home and into a small flat not too far from the office. 

“Are you sure, darling?” her mother had asked when (Y/N) had suggested doing so over breakfast one morning.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, pouring milk into her tea and stirring in the sugar. She offered a smile to Millie - a new housemaid hired only a few weeks before - as she placed a fresh batch of toast on the table, “It should save a small fortune in floo powder, being able to walk to work in the morning, and I’d like the opportunity to better learn my way around the city.” her mother relented, agreeing that it was probably a good idea for (Y/N) to do so, reminding her that her room would always be available to her should she choose to stay over. It wasn’t long after moving into her own apartment - only a few blocks from the office, and with excellent views of London, according to her realtor - that (Y/N)’s morning walk to work included a stop at a small local café for a coffee and a pastry on the way.

-

Three days before she turned twenty-one, Kieran announced his engagement to a pretty witch who had been in her dorm during her seventh year. She was a half-blood, raised by her pureblood father after her mother’s untimely death when she was a child. After the announcement was made in that morning’s edition of the Prophet, all five members of the Grey family and Kieran’s fiancée, Serena, sat gathered together in the sitting room of the Grey family’s townhome. They waited with baited breath for some sort of retaliation - be it letters or uninvited visitors hoping to announce their displeasure to the gathered family. Serena’s family, however, was wealthy, and her father was from a well-respected family with enough sway within the ministry for it to be a very bad idea to speak out against the match if you valued your career and social standing.

The match was accepted, and only a few short months later, they were married.

-

(Y/N) turned twenty-three without incident. Maybe some slight sadness at the sight of all of her friends getting married and starting families of their own, except it was rarely because it was what they wanted. It was all done in the name of ensuring the future of the 28, (Y/N) couldn’t help but thank Morgana that she wasn’t among the year’s collection of blushing brides destined to be absolutely miserable in the next few years – if they weren’t already. 

“Just be glad your parents haven’t set you up with someone like Rodolphus,” Narcissa had said to her over a late lunch one day, barely suppressing a shudder as she thought of her brother-in-law, “Bella was never the most stable, but with him.” she trailed off, a haunted guilt look in her blue eyes - she still felt guilty, having found some measure of happiness with Lucius.

“I suppose you’re right,” (Y/N) set down her tea cup, gently placing a hand over Narcissa’s, “as you always are in these situations.” she older of the two gave a tight lipped smile, still upset about her sister’s match.

It was something that had become increasingly apparent with each wedding attended and each birth announcement received that the best any daughter of The 28 could hope for was to not end up in the same situation as Balatrix Lestrange (née. Black). These women, these bright young witches who could have made so much of themselves if only given the chance, were worth little more than the children they would give birth to and the pleasure their husbands could take from them. Damn their own hopes and dreams.

-

By twenty-four (Y/N) had received a promotion at work and had decided to focus more fully on her career. One of her informants, a mousy man with the unfortunate habit of dousing himself in cheap cologne in an attempt to hide the stench of his rotting teeth, had gone missing the week before, his dirty rented room above a sleazy pub in knockturn alley the only evidence he had ever existed at all. Rumors of something dark brewing in the shadows had gained new credibility with the poor man’s disappearance. Whispers of a return to the dark arts and a truly pureblood wizarding society had begun to spread among the more extreme members of the 28. Some questioned her family’s standing as proud pureblooded Slytherins after her brave Gryffindor sister had made a few unwise comments at a few too many events. 

“Well,” She and Kieran would say, “I don’t know what you expect, she’s only a child,” a carefully timed sip of their whiskey or champagne or tea or coffee and then “and besides, I’ve never met any Gryiffindor who doesn't speak before fully considering what it is they’re saying.” 

If that wasn’t enough, the allusion to how foolish a child’s opinions could be, and how little control she could be expected to have after an evening of sneaking sips of champagne off of trays held by waiters expected to say nothing, or from glasses of fire whiskey left unattended after games of cards was often enough, and usually met by an appreciative chuckle and some vain recollection by whomever’s conversation they’d had to intervene in. A well place complement to their hosts, and the subject was dropped in favor of the typical gossip that was passed around.

-

The year (Y/N) turned twenty-five, Serena hosted a small get-together. There was a nice dinner, cake from her favorite bakery, and her closest friends and family all wishing her a happy birthday. Her parents had given her a delicate gold watch that had belonged to her grandmother – her favorite grandmother, the one who would wordlessly help her escape from balls and galas with a sly wink and an amused smirk. Kieran had given her a new typewriter, its shining green enamel and the gold inlay of the letters twinkling under the warm light of the candles at the dinner table. He had smirked as she unwrapped it,

“Since you do so much writing outside of work,” he paused theatrically, “I thought you might like something to make it just the littlest bit easier on your quills and ink.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at her brother, “That’s lovely, Kier,” now it was her turn for theatrics, “Care to tell me how it works, or…” she trailed off, gesturing to the instruction booklet that had come with the typewriter - the instruction booklet written entirely in Czech.

“Haven’t a clue, sister,” Kieran’s smirk screamed mischief, “You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.

Severus had sent a card home with Claire on the train, busy with his own family and with his students, he had been unable to attend in person, but he would have rather died than face his pregnant wife if he hadn’t at least sent well wishes for a happy twenty-fifth birthday to one of his closest friends.

Claire had given her an oval-shaped locket she had found at a muggle antique shop the two sisters frequented together. Inside she had placed a small photo of the two of them from Kieran and Serena’s wedding. Both girls were smiling brightly as Claire moved to whisper something to (Y/N) before they dissolved into fits of giggles. The champagne (Y/N) had been drinking all evening, and that Claire had, more likely than not, been sneaking, almost certainly having to do with how easily the sisters laughed that night.

Serena’s gift that evening was somewhat less traditional. In a small plain paper gift bag filled to the top with crumpled tissue paper in different shades of green, was a corny t-shirt you might be able to find in a variety of muggle clothing shops. On the front of the cream-colored shirt, in big black letters, were the words ‘World’s Best Godmother’. Underneath the shirt lay a strip of photos from an ultrasound appointment, and a card with a message inscribed in Serena’s usual elegant script in black: ‘Won’t you be my Godmother, Aunty?’ it read. Standing, (Y/N) quickly swept her sister-in-law into a tight hug, laughing softly as her brother wrapped his arms around them both, and nodded her head with a bright smile on her face, tears welling in her eyes.

“Of course,” (Y/N) laughed delightedly, “I would be honored.”

Regulus’s gift, however, had been her favorite. It was a first edition of one of (Y/N)’s favorite muggle novels, a novel she had first read sitting on the train next to an older boy with dark brown curls and a carefully neutral expression painted across his handsome face. It was on that first trip to Hogwarts that (Y/N) had decided she had found her best friend, and Regulus had decided that he would allow no one to so much as look at the younger girl the wrong way.

Regulus’s gift of the book was met with a shy smile from (Y/N), who knew exactly how Walburga could be about such things, and when she kissed him on the cheek Regulus had to fight off the pink tinge flushing his cheeks – his heart skipping a beat.

“Thank you, Reg.” she had whispered to him later that evening, her head resting against his shoulder as they sat curled together on a loveseat in front of the fireplace. Outside the rain poured and the wind thrashed the branches of the old oak tree they had climbed together exactly once when (Y/N) was thirteen and Regulus was fifteen.

“Any time, Dove.” Regulus glanced down only to find (Y/N) asleep, her head still resting against his shoulder. Gently he pressed a kiss to her forehead, picked her up, and brought her to her room. His leg would be killing him in the morning, but for one more moment with her, it would be worth it.

-

At twenty-six, one of (Y/N)’s colleagues, a young man she had known in school, asked her out for dinner. She might have agreed if it weren’t for the warnings of the older girls at work. Ones with whom he had a bit of a reputation with, as the sort of man who expected too much from a first date and didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

The prideful fool should have known better, given the look of total contempt and disgust on (Y/N)’s face, but he continued to push, to beg, and whine until she had her father call in a favor with her editor. 

“Please, Father,” she had begged during dinner one night when he had joined her at the Leaky Cauldron. Her mother had been at some charitable event or other, and the father and daughter had elected to get dinner together in the city rather than having Mrs. Turner stay late. “He won’t leave me alone,” she tried again, “and I’m sure Rowle has plenty of assignments he could do far away from me.” Her father Joseph chuckled, then agreed, taking a bite of his roast dinner and chuckling again at his daughter’s obvious relief.

He and Montgomery Rowle had been friends during their days at Hogwarts, and it took little convincing from him to have Mr. Rowle send him off on an assignment to somewhere he was unlikely to return from. It was a bit extreme, perhaps, though it had ensured he never bothered anyone again, and it made for a much quieter office - and that, at least, was something everyone could appreciate.

-

It was at twenty-seven that (Y/N)’s life was set in a very different direction all together from what would have been expected given the last few years, and in no way had such an upbringing as the one so carefully curated by her parents, nor the following few years of unwed bliss, prepared (Y/N) for her mother's announcement. To be quite frank, it's unlikely anything would have been able to prepare her for such an announcement.

In fact, had she known such a thing would be the main point of discussion at the monthly luncheon with her mother, sister and sister-in-law, she likely would have come up with some doubtlessly brilliant reason for being quite unable to make it this time, and for them to please accept her apologies. Likely it would have been something to do with the paper, or perhaps her faucet had spontaneously developed a leak and the plumber was only available, unfortunately enough, at the very time of the four women’s tête-à-tête.

Instead, (Y/N) had taken the day away from the paper as she always did. She'd had an appointment earlier, and had stopped into one of her favorite boutiques after. She'd found a dress - a lovely wool one in cream, the skirt delicately pleated and fell gracefully to her ankles, while the bodice was tightly fitted perfectly accentuating her curves - and had gone home after, changing into that very dress before heading out to meet for lunch, her heels clacking purposefully against the pavement.

She'd handed her camel coat, wand tucked neatly into an interior pocket, to the kind older man at the coat check, offering him a gracious smile

"How has your Lou been?" she politely inquired, "not still sick, I hope?"

"Oh," the man chuckled softly, carefully placing the coat in the closet behind him, "no, healer said she'll be right as rain in a day or two." he responded. (Y/N) opened her mouth to ask if she could do anything before being met by her sister, who literally slid into the room, arms flailing as she skidded to a sudden stop.

Energetic thing that she was, Claire had barreled into the foyer, nearly crashing into her sister, pulling her into a crushing hug, cheeks still flushed from the cold, hair damp from the misty rain that had only just begun moments before.

"(Y/N)!" she exclaimed, laughing as she was shot several dirty looks from a group of older witches sitting nearby.

The sisters had made their way into the dining room then, chatting amiably as they sat at their usual table. Anne had been waiting already, a glass of wine in one hand.

That should have been her first clue. Instead, lunch had continued as it normally did, and then Anne made her announcement.

Taglist: @bleepeats-15

[garrytumbles]

Finally got in the groove of this story. Have a bunch of chapters written and ready to go, got me giggling and kicking my feets lmaoo

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I’ve been enjoying writing it!

Masterlist

Prev / Next

Reigen X Reader

Sweet As Pie - Part 2

Reigen found himself fidgeting outside the bakery. Would she think it was weird he came back the next day? No, he’s getting in his own head. She’s running a business after all, she’s hopeful for repeat customers. Where’s your confidence, get in there!

The familiar chime of the bell signaled a customer entering the bakery. “Welcome in!” (Y/N)’s gaze moved from her book to the newcomer. A smile took over her face when she saw who it was. “Well well well, look who it is! Maybe my pastries are legendary after all.”

Reigen laughed, trying to ignore how sweaty his hands are. “Of course, I couldn’t stay away when you snuck in a free sample.”

She laughed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Ah so you’ve fallen into my trap, have you?”

Reigen felt a smile tug at his lips, “How do you know you didn’t fall into mine? Butter you up with praise, buy something else, and get myself a freebie?”

She placed a hand on her chest in mock offense, “And here I thought I was special! How dare you, Reigen.” A smile cracked through her façade. “Maybe if you keep spending your money I’ll keep throwing in freebies.”

His smile only grew. “Well then, what do you recommend?” He ended up leaving the shop and heading to the office with a pastry filled with bacon, egg, and cheese. This time she threw in a freebie of a few sugar cookies instead of chocolate chip like the day prior.

——

Reigen was in a very chipper mood when Mob and Dimple arrived at the office.

“Heya Mob, ready to get some work done on this fine day?”

Dimple eyed the man cautiously, floating around him in a circle. “What’s got you all smiley? Did you steal some kid’s trust fund or something?”

Reigen swatted him away. “What?! No! Can it Dimple.”

Mob cut off their argument before it could really begin. “Isn’t that a bag from Miss (Y/N)’s bakery?” All eyes fell on the bag with her shop’s logo on it.

“Oh yeah,” Reigen passed the bag to Mob. “I’d almost forgotten, I saved this for you.”

Mob took a sugar cookies from the bag, with a quiet thank you. “Master, did you go there again today? She’s a really talented baker and she’s really nice, right?” The boy’s eyes practically sparkled. She had always been so kind to him and his family, he was happy to see Reigen getting along with her. They were both important people to the boy.

Reigen smiled, gazing out the window. “Yeah I stopped there this morning. You’re right, she is good.” His eyes flicked back to Mob. “How did you meet her, anyway? Seems like she knows you pretty well, you clearly like her an awful lot too.”

Mob blushed, averting his gaze. “Um, my parents used to go there, they knew her grandmother. When I was little, Ritsu and I were going there after school, Miss (Y/N) was working and drove off some bullies that tried to take our money.”

Reigen sighed. “Kids sure are brutal, at least she was there to help. So she doesn’t run the shop herself?”

Mob shrugged his shoulders. “She kind of does now, but her grandmother used to be there every day. In the past few years, Miss (Y/N) has been taking care of it more than her grandmother.”

If her grandmother owned the bakery but wasn’t around much anymore… Maybe he was just be pessimistic, maybe she was just retired. Reigen frowned but didn’t voice his thoughts to Mob, changing the subject back to their clients for the day.

——

Reigen had been going to the bakery nearly every day for the past two weeks. He and (Y/N) continued to share silly banter, sometimes she would even give him “free samples” without him buying anything. He became a taste tester of sorts when she would try new recipes. The relationship began to stray from baker and customer to something closer to friends. Even on long days at the office where all he wanted to do was crawl in bed, he’d sometimes find himself stopping by the bakery first, to help (Y/N) close up shop. Today was one of those days.

The familiar chime of the bell greeted Reigen as he entered the shop, music to his ears after a rough day. Mob had been really busy with school so Reigen had to fly solo all day, taking jobs he could do on his own and unfortunately pushing others back until Mob was free.

There was already someone else standing at the counter when Reigen entered the building, seemingly arguing with (Y/N).

When the bell chimed, both the man and (Y/N) looked towards Reigen. The man cursed under his breath. “Give me a call when you want to be reasonable about this. I’ll give you some time to come to your senses.” The man stormed out of the shop, the chime of the bell feeling less friendly than it had before. Reigen glanced at his watch, 6:53, only 7 minutes before close. He locked the door and flipped the sign on the door. If anyone wanted to come in less than 10 minutes before she closed they could stuff it.

“Are you okay? What the heck was that about?” He approached the counter cautiously. She kept her eyes glued to the ground, fighting back the wave of emotion threatening to overtake her. Reigen hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, speaking softly. “Hey… how about I help you close up and then I can walk you home?”

She took a shaky breath, finally making eye contact. “I…. Do you think we could go out and do something? I don’t really wanna go home.” She averted her gaze again. “It’s- it’s fine you don’t have to-“

Reigen cut her off, putting his other hand on her shoulder, giving her a little shake. “Hey. That sounds great, I think we’ve both had a long day. You hungry?”

She sighed, looking back up at him. “Honestly? I could use a drink.”

Reigen smiled. “I know just the place.”

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

Yandere!(Y/N), who falls in love with Gojo the first time she sees him at a meeting of all the sorcerer families. She stands behind the children of the ruling branch of the family and peeks over their shoulders to look at the "great heir of the Gojo clan". As soon as their eyes meet, she giggles in embarrassment and starts looking at the floor, feeling her heart start pounding faster.

Yandere!(Y/N), who was never taken seriously and especially didn't want anything. An ordinary child who was made into a servant for more "promising family members". She should have lived a quiet and boring life somewhere closer to the "bottom", but as soon as her eyes met the sky balls, she couldn't help but think, " What a cute boy… I feel like I can't stop looking at him."

Yandere!(Y/N), who tries to find Gojo with her eyes every time she and her "master" visit the Gojo estate. Just looking at a beautiful boy makes (Y/N) feel confused and feel her heart beating faster. In her ordinary, boring life, there was finally something she truly wanted.

Yandere!(Y/N), who is looking for any ways to see the cute face of her beloved boy again. A heavy box of weapons should be delivered to his estate? (Y/N) ready to help! The wife of the head of the family goes to Gojo`s to arrange a marriage with her daughter? (Y/N) is already carrying a coat and a bag with all the necessary things for her! Is the heir of her family looking for a friend to train with? "Master, Satoru Gojo-sama is the best choice!"

Yandere!(Y/N), for whom it is not enough just to look at the boy. She's looking for ways to get closer to him.

Yandere!(Y/N), who suddenly realizes that she has no other desires than to make Gojo laugh. She wants to be close to him, hug his small body, poke his chubby baby cheeks and eat sweets with him! Any hobbies that used to somehow brighten up her life as a "non-talented sorcerer" fade into the background when (Y/N) begins to do everything to become stronger.

Yandere!(Y/N), who spends days and nights trying to stop being a "servant" and become a "full member of the family". In a small child's head, plans appear that are too cruel and complex to be invented by an ordinary, adequate child.

Yandere!(Y/N), who smiles at Gojo every time she and her "master" arrive at his manor. She secretly leaves sweet gifts for her beloved boy. She always bakes them herself, with thoughts of him, of his wonderful smile. But even when she sees the fruits of her own labor in the trash, all she feels is that her heart is pounding faster. "He noticed me. I just need to get better so that I can meet his needs and high demands."

Yandere!(Y/N), who whispers nasty things in her "master's" ear every time they return to their manor. "Master, let me fix your clothes. I've heard from the maids that you look very untidy for a family heir. They say you're a disgrace to Gojo-sama by being around him." "Master, I have written down what you will need to repeat for the next meeting. You made a lot of mistakes in the tasks. I hope Gojo-sama wasn't disappointed in you as much as sensei was." "Master, I heard that Gojo-sama hates cats. This explains why he has this face every time you talk about the Princess-sama. I think you need to find another topic to talk about with him."

Yandere!(Y/N), who secretly smiles as she watches two young sorcerers yell at each other. She's enjoying Gojo's loud voice, a fight with whom was the expected outcome after everything (Y/N) said to her master. All this time, she was just waiting for her words-firewood to ignite a flash of hatred.

Yandere!(Y/N), who doesn't go to comfort her master after they get home. She goes to the head of the family to "beg for his forgiveness." She bumps her forehead against the floor, trying to hide her smile. "I'm d-deeply sorry, my master! I should have kept a better eye on the young master, then he wouldn't have fallen out with the heir of the Gojo clan! I'm begging you, let me go there and apologize for our entire family! I will accept whatever punishment they have prepared for young master or our entire family!"

Yandere!(Y/N), who almost faints when she sees Gojo's look of discontent and disdain. "H-he... he's only looking at me! All his attention... is mine!" She sits on her knees and begs for forgiveness, and when there's a long pause, she looks up, only to see the question in the heavenly eyes that she likes so much. "I don't care about that jerk. You'd better tell me... were you the one who made all those cookies that the maids threw away?"

Yandere!(Y/N), who promises to bury the maids and those who gave them such an order alive in the ground. Her heart breaks when she finds out that her favorite boy didn't eat her cookies not because he didn't like them. She quietly admits that it's really her who's been making sweets all this time.

Yandere!(Y/N), who blushes profusely and almost faints when her cute boy kneels in front of her, leans close to her ear and whispers softly: "I'll invite your stupid master here again if you bring me some chocolate chip cookies."

Yandere!(Y/N), who bites the sleeve of her yukata as she walks to the car so as not to yell at the entire estate. She feels happy tears appear in her eyes, and her face is the same color as the blood that has just been spilled. "He was so close to me! And he only talked to me! And his breath! His breath smells so good!.."

Yandere!(Y/N), who shows the head of her family that she is no longer the "useless girl" that she was. She becomes a full-fledged member of the family and begins to train with normal teachers. And even if that wasn't her ultimate goal, she's glad that other sorcerers are beginning to respect her now.

Yandere!(Y/N), who brings Gojo the most delicious and fresh cookies she can make. She watches with rosy cheeks as her beloved boy enjoys sweets and giggles softly with happiness. "He doesn't need to know that I put some of my own saliva in it."

Yandere!(Y/N), from whom Gojo asks for more sweet snacks because he really liked the previous ones. "It's so delicious! What's your secret?" "I just added a little of my love... of cooking."

Yandere!(Y/N), who regretfully says that she can't see him often because she now attends training sessions. Her cute boy is so in love with her cooking that he asks her to come train with him instead of her young master.

Yandere!(Y/N), who bites her lip until it bleeds to keep from laughing with happiness. When she's in the car, she bites through her sleeve because she's gripping it too hard with her teeth. She feels like her heart is about to jump out of her chest with happiness.

Yandere!(Y/N), who constantly goes to Gojo with sweets to train with him. She can't focus on what the teacher is saying because she's constantly looking at her favorite boy. "He's so close! My heart is beating too loud! When we hugged, I could smell his clothes and neck! It smells so good! And those eyes? They are so beautiful! And this skin? So soft and pleasant to touch! I want to hug him and not let go!"

Yandere!(Y/N), who can't hide her joy when Gojo reveals that he wants her to move into his estate. "I'm tired of waiting for my cookies! I want you to make sweets for me every day! You can be my playmate... or something like that."

Yandere!(Y/N), who smiles widely and blushes when she hears these words. She instantly covers her face and tries to hide her genuine reaction, but Gojo grabs her hands and forces her to look at him. Her heart is about to explode at the cute expression she sees in front of her. Her favorite boy sticks out his tongue and squeezes his eyes shut like a kitten when he says, "You'd better hurry up and agree before I want you to be my maid."

Yandere!(Y/N), who would love to become a maid to touch Gojo's clothes (which he will only be wearing or has already worn), help him change, bring him food, and comb his hair. But if she can become his friend and eventually start hugging him, then (Y/N) won't turn down the opportunity!

Yandere!(Y/N), who finds the maids who threw away her sweets and does everything possible to get them fired without reference. When she talks to them before and hears something like "we were worried about Gojo-sama's safety", she suddenly realizes that she doesn't feel anything. She doesn't care about the fate of other people at all, as long as it's not her favorite boy.

Yandere!(Y/N), who spends her childhood near Gojo. They eat, play, study, and sometimes sleep together. ((Y/N) always sniffs the little sorcerer's hair and admires how he, the boy, always smells delicious). Gradually (Y/N) calms down and begins to control her emotions around Gojo, she no longer smiles or laughs like a maniac when he praises her after school or calls her to play in the garden. She just smiles beautifully and blushes every time the boy is around.

Yandere!(Y/N), who makes the same wishes for every holiday. "I want Gojo-kun to be happy." "I want me and Gojo-kun to have another good year together." "I want Gojo-kun to hug me more often."

Yandere!(Y/N), who feels that even the skin of her head turns red when she mentally utters her most cherished dream when she turns fourteen: "I w-want... I want to be Gojo-kun`s wife..."

Yandere!(Y/N), who always pretends to be a cute girl in front of Gojo's parents, elders, and servants in the manor. She smiles and says hello, is always polite and hardworking, apologizes and is never rude. With every smile she gives to people she doesn't like or love, something bright dies in her, leaving only emptiness. A void that only Satoru Gojo can fill.

Yandere!(Y/N), who decides that it doesn't need anyone but "the best". With each passing year that she spends side by side with Gojo, she realizes that she will never, ever find someone like him again. Satoru Gojo is too perfect to be true. (Y/N) admires his looks, strength, abilities, techniques, and of course, charming personality! She knows she's in love, but it's not really love.

Yandere!(Y/N), whose silly childish wish "I want to look at him forever" turns into "I only want him to be mine." "I will treat him the way he deserves to be treated. He's a god. And I will pray for him for the rest of my life… How nice it would be... for your god to be yours alone."

Yandere!(Y/N), who shares Gojo's hatred of the elders, even though she doesn't really care about them at all. (Although she is grateful that they exist, because they are part of her plan.) She criticizes their decisions and always finds disadvantages in everything they do. When she meets old people, she always supports them, shows them her best personality traits to make them believe that she is the perfect person to keep as close to Gojo as possible.

Yandere!(Y/N), who even stops sniffing the handkerchief she stole from Gojo when she learns the unexpected news. She looks at the girl who has been sent to be the bride of her beloved boy with a twitching eye.

Yandere!(Y/N), who greets her with a big smile and gives her a tour of the estate. She quickly learns that the "bride" is from faraway lands and has never actually left her estate. "Everything around you may be strange, but don't worry! I'm here to help you! I'm Gojo-kun's best friend, so I have to take care of his fiancee!"

Yandere!(Y/N), who feels nothing when she watches her boy's fiancee get eaten alive by a curse. As she stands there with the cursed tool in her hands, something finally dies inside her. But she even likes it. She hears the screams and pleas for help and only closes her eyes. "I wonder what Gojo-kun is doing?"

Yandere!(Y/N), who gets rid of the other "brides" and leaves no traces behind. Poisoned. Thrown off a cliff. Destroyed by a curse. Driven mad by moral pressure. Cut into small pieces and buried on the other side of the city. No one can even assume that the "good girl (Y/N)" is to blame for their deaths.

Yandere!(Y/N), who calms Gojo, who is clearly in shock from the deaths that have occurred. "You're not cursed, Gojo-kun. Maybe fate is just trying to give you a sign? You deserve better! Besides, you're too young to get married! Let's run away after curfew and eat some ramen instead of worries!"

Yandere!(Y/N), who rejects marriage proposals from sorcerers from other families. She even breaks one newcomer's arm because he refused to leave. "How, how dare you think you're better than Gojo-kun?!"

Yandere!(Y/N), who almost dies when she realizes that her favorite boy-(teenager) has been watching her humiliate the "possible groom" all this time. "If he finds out, t-that I killed all those girls!.. He'll never, ever want to be with me! What if he thinks I'm being too rude? If he gives up on me and I can never be his wife?!."

Yandere!(Y/N), who lets out a sigh of relief when Gojo laughs at her "fiance" and calls him a "weakling".

Yandere!(Y/N), who goes to school with her favorite boy so that he "doesn't get too bored". In fact, she's going to keep an eye on him... and not just at the request of the elders.

Yandere!(Y/N), who easily wins the hearts of teachers and her classmates thanks to the "good girl" mask she has developed over the years. Now no one will guess if she leaves someone from the staff or students of the school to be eaten by a curse.

Yandere!(Y/N), who sneaks into Gojo's room every day to play games with him, read and sleep together. She assures him that she just missed him during the day. And even if that's partly true, she uses this time to sniff his sheets and clothes, touch his skin and hair, steal a few items here and there while the sorcerer runs to the store for snacks.

Yandere!(Y/N), who starts hugging Gojo in the middle of the day because "I love my friends so much!". Everyone is used to the fact that she behaves like a cute teenager, and therefore does not comment on what is happening. The young sorcerer only laughs and circles (Y/N) around his axis as he holds her tightly in his arms.

Yandere!(Y/N), who secretly takes photos of her beloved boy as he falls asleep on her shoulder, lap, or chest. She has a separate suitcase from which she made a portable altar in honor of Satoru Gojo. There are many photos of him, objects that he touched with his lips, as well as his personal belongings, such as underwear.

Yandere!(Y/N), who is always there for Gojo when something upsets him. (She won't tell anyone that she watches him every spare second of her time, so she knows exactly when he's sad, lonely, or down.)

Yandere!(Y/N), who shares her first kiss with Gojo, who wants to know how people feel when they kiss. This happens at the next "sleepover", the sorcerer suddenly asks a question that makes (Y/N) blush very much and hide more strongly behind the book. She feels like her lungs are about to burst from how hard her heart is beating.

Yandere!(Y/N), who doesn't close her eyes when Gojo leans in and kisses her. She would never forget that moment when they kissed in the light of a single candle so that they wouldn't be caught by the teachers. (Y/N) quickly licks her lips as soon as the sorcerer turns away in embarrassment.

Yandere!(Y/N), who then wants to feel more of her favorite boy. She says they could try different things before getting into a "real adult romantic relationship" so it wouldn't be so awkward. Gojo agrees with a small nod, and (Y/N) can't contain her joy, jumping on top of him and hugging him with a happy laugh.

Yandere!(Y/N), who treats Gojo like they're boyfriend and girlfriend. Everyone thinks their relationship hasn't changed, but it's not true. Yes, she still brings him food, takes care of his health, and does weird, funny things with him that annoy other people, but that's not all. (Y/N) kisses him on the lips and cheeks whenever she can, she hugs him and lets him touch her where "friends" can't touch each other.

Yandere!(Y/N), who is happy to share her first time with Gojo. She would welcome any treatment of her body as long as it was done by her favorite sorcerer, but her heart melts when she sees an insecure Gojo standing over her, gently touching her body and asking if he's hurting her.

Yandere!(Y/N), whose love reaches its peak. When Gojo falls asleep on her chest, exhausted from his first time, she leans over and whispers into his hair, "One day I'll be your wife and we'll have lots and lots of babies. I won't accept any other outcome after what we've done."

Yandere!(Y/N), who manipulates the elders who trust her after so many years. She says that all the brides they have chosen for Gojo are not suitable for him, that they will disgrace the clan or be bad wives. She makes incredible arguments every time, the old people just can't argue with her.

Yandere!(Y/N), who easily hides her joy when the elders offer her to be a bride for Gojo. She just hums softly, bows to them, and says, "If it allows his clan and the world to flourish."

Yandere!(Y/N), who walks around with a big smile all week, hugs Gojo and can't stop being happy, as soon her favorite boy will belong to her and only her. When people ask her what happened, she just says that she has a premonition of something good.

Yandere!(Y/N), who pretends to be genuinely surprised when she learns of the elders' choice. She watches with a slightly heavy heart as Gojo shouts curses at the old men and hits the walls. However, (Y/N) calms down as soon as she hears that her cute boy is just afraid that she will die just like the previous brides.

Yandere!(Y/N), who hugs him and comforts him, promises that she will live, live for him.

Yandere!(Y/N), who listens blankly as Gojo says that he will do anything to cancel this engagement. "I want you to be happily married to the person you truly love, (Y/N)-chan! What the hell are these old farts doing deciding who you should marry?!"

Yandere!(Y/N), who asks Gojo's mother, who loves her very much, to hurry up the wedding so that her cute boy doesn't have time to ruin anything. The woman who has always dreamed that her son would find a loving and understanding bride, easily agrees. After all, this is (Y/N), their "sweet good girl"!

Yandere!(Y/N), who hides a smirk in a thick veil as she walks down the aisle to Gojo, who blushes and looks embarrassed. "It looks like someone isn't telling me how they feel, my dear." (Y/N) enjoys his shyness and gives him a loving kiss when the time comes.

Yandere!(Y/N), who sits on the bed and smiles inwardly as Gojo stomps angrily next to her, in the large bedroom that was given to the newlyweds. "H-how could they force us to get married so early?! Have they gone completely mad? Ha, these old men, I'll kill them, I'll kill them..."

Yandere!(Y/N), who slaps her knees, stopping Gojo and asking him to calm down, lie down in a familiar place and just enjoy a head massage. Her favorite boy agrees, hurries to sit on the bed and put his head with this silk hair on (Y/N)`s lap.

Yandere!(Y/N), who gradually begins to touch his body in a less innocent way, until eventually she hears those pleasant moans that always delight her ear so much. "I want him to experience pleasure and happiness. I want to be the cause of these feelings."

Yandere!(Y/N), who ends up on top of Gojo, kissing him the way she always wanted to. Her heart sings with love for the man who made her get better and worse at the same time. She kisses him with her tongue, passing along with her saliva an aphrodisiac that she surreptitiously took into her mouth while Gojo was lying on her lap.

Yandere!(Y/N), who makes her beloved boy forget about all the problems and takes control of the situation by removing a heavy, expensive kimono from his shoulders. She covers his skin with fleeting kisses before starting to leave her little marks here and there. "He's so beautiful… But he will be even more beautiful if everyone knows that he is mine."

Yandere!(Y/N), who doesn't use any protection during their wedding night because she wants to feel her lover. When Gojo, oblivious to lust and passion, finishes for the first time that night, (Y/N) just smiles and giggles, glancing at the calendar. Now is the best time to have a baby.

Yandere!(Y/N), who looks calmly at Gojo, who gets up in the morning and stares in horror at what's left of their night. While the sorcerer yells that he will kill the elders because "they put an aphrodisiac in our drinks!", (Y/N) hopes that she was able to get pregnant with his child.

Yandere!(Y/N), who sends Gojo's parents on a short vacation so that she and her husband can "try themselves as clan leaders."

Yandere!(Y/N), who kills the elders since they are now useless. Plus, they're causing problems for her husband! They deserve the cruelest possible death for making her beloved boy frown! What if it causes wrinkles? Unacceptable!

Yandere!(Y/N), who announces her pregnancy and finally tells the most important person in her life that she loves him. Everyone in the manor loves her, Gojo's parents are also crazy about her, she has a strong technique, and her family is relatively well-known, so there's no point in her breaking up this marriage anyway. (Y/N) is ready for rejection, but she still hopes that her cute boy will make the right choice.

Yandere!(Y/N), who pats Gojo on the back and comforts him as he hugs her and sobs into her shoulder. "I al-lso… I love you too! This child... I will do anything to protect our little one!.. And you, my dear."

Yandere!(Y/N), who a few years later kisses the cheek of her son, who is a complete copy of her husband. Gojo walks next to her and complains, saying that he would like his child to be at least a little like his mother. She looks at her husband, kisses him on the cheek, and says with a chuckle:: "I'll give you as many babies as you want. I want to create a big family with you, full of happiness, joy and love." "But you will still love me, your wonderful husband, right?" (Y/N) smiles, pressing her cheek to the forehead of her son, whom she loves incredibly much, because he is not just the child of her and her beloved boy, but also a complete copy of her husband. "Of course, Satoru-chan. I will love you more than anything else in the world."

Yandere!(Y/N), who, despite the "quiet life", catches every curse, every sorcerer who dared to offend her husband or just cross his path. Even if her husband is the most powerful sorcerer, she won't allow anyone, anyone, anyone to treat him other than as a god.

Because yandere!(Y/N) loves nothing more than her cute little boy.

[cloudygreece]

With the time we have left together

Pairings| mute!Fem!readerxpostwar!Giyuu

READING TYPE| ANGST~some fluff (no happy ending) POV: 3rd person Fem!reader

SYNOPSIS| You finally get the life that you had always deserved. Unfortunately it will only last for 4 years. The mark of thr slayer slowly draining the life from your soul and body as you draw nearer to your impending doom, however you get to spend what little time you have left with the people you love.

CW! Themes of pregnancy, childbirth and death are present in this writing! (Its also pretty cringy, I wrote this at 2am)

A/N: just to clarify, y/n became mute due to an injury that was inflicted on her during the fight with muzan, one of her two vocal strips were severely damaged causing her to lose her ability to speak. Yes she did learn sign language after healing. (Italicized texts means y/n is signing) Y/N was a Hashira, there are also mentions of a Tsuguko (an apprentice of a Hashira) she will be present throughout the whole story (please give them a name if you haven't made one. You can use mine if u can't figure one out :D ~ Hanami Ito <3). Giyuu is a bit older than you! However the time of death due to the slayer mark never specified how long after turning 25 until they die.

Word count 1.5k

Key

(Y/n)-Your name

(T/n)-Tsuguko name

(B/s)-Breathing Style

⋆｡°·☁︎Hope you enjoy☁︎·°｡⋆

It was unfortunate. Her romance with her one true love started off so much later than she expected. By the time they were married, they both had only a year or two left; that was the price of the mark. The mark that both of them used to defeat the demon lord four years ago...

Two months have passed... ...and the former (B/s) Hashira is still healing. However, with her vocal cords and her breathing being weak, she could never explore the world outside of Japan. All she could do was stay at her shared home with her former Tsuguko (T/n) and Giyuu Tomioka, the former water Hashira that she once fought the demon lord head-to-head with. 

It was difficult at first for all of them. None of them were able to communicate with (Y/n) about her thoughts, wants, and needs. Any noise she could make sounded like gurgled croaks and strained whispers, too soft or incoherent for anyone to understand. She had to learn sign language, and so did the others if they wanted to know what she was saying. Tirelessly, they all learned together; it was a good thing she didn't lose her hearing as well. Tomioka, with only one hand, felt relieved that (Y/n) didn't get injured even more. As time grew on, they became fluent in sign language, being able to interpret her words to others through the flow and movement of her hands. 

Five months passed after the war ended... ...(Y/n), with nothing else to do, started to take an interest in baking. She would always find herself giving the sweets that she made to the last remaining slayers, who were finishing up their final recoveries. The three of them realized that the former (B/s) Hashira had a talent for cooking and baking.

With the money she and the other two had saved, they all opened up a bakery. They produce delicious breads and desserts. The trio had to spend countless nights trying to find the perfect recipes for them to sell, even though it caused some sleepless nights. It was the perfect life compared to what they endured in the earlier years of their lives for the two who formed the mark. As time grew on, their bonds grew ever closer, making it seem as if they were a family. However, the two slayers who formed the mark were becoming a bit fonder of each other. 

1 year and 8 months had passed after the war had ended...  ...when (T/n) noticed that the two started to catch feelings for one another. (T/n) would find ways to excuse themselves from the presence of their master and her unrequited lover, always leaving them alone as they held somewhat silent conversations with each other about the most mundane things.

2 years and 6 months had passed after the war had ended... ...and they finally tied the knot.

"Finally! Took you guys long enough! When's the wedding?"

(Y/n)'s hands flew around excitedly as she signed

"Oh, probably in 5 months! We'll make the cake, and we know where we're going to do our wedding and who we're inviting. We just need to figure out the flowers, catering, and our attire."

(T/n) has never seen their master this happy before. They could almost hear the excitement bubbling from her throat as she tried to speak. The burn and slash marks on her neck, covered loosely by her scarf, reminded the apprentice of how little time the couple had left. They cast their eyes down to avoid eye contact between the two; they knew it was inevitable, and yet they were able to find love with one another. 

Suddenly Tomiokas voice broke the silence

"(T/n) We both understand your concerns about our health, and we are very aware of how much time we have left. Don't stress yourself out too much."

His tone was very dull, but his eyes weren't. His dark blue eyes showed kindness and reassurance toward the young apprentice. As Giyuu spoke, his one arm wrapped around her (Y/n) side, pulling her body closer to him. They both starred at each other lovingly, before walking over to (T/n) to give them a nice, warm, reassuring hug.

2 years and 11 months had passed since the war had ended... ...The cherry blossoms fell as (Y/n) walked down the pathway towards Tomioka. Her eyes darted across the aisle as she saw those in the corps who she had fought together with to finally bring peace to their homes. All of them were smiling as they watched her with the man she always dreamed of, officially joining together as man and wife. Words (and signs) of joy, affermation, sadness, and hope were given to one another. Finally, they slowly approach each other to signify their unity with a kiss. As flower petals coated the air with a flurry of pinks, blues, and whites, everyone cheered as the pair finally had one another.

3 years and 6 months had passed since the war had ended... ...The couple both started to show signs of weakening. (Y/n) began to cough and wheeze if she did too much work, while Giyuu became much more lethargic and weaker. However, the small family was blessed, with another member soon joining them. 

"(T/n), I'm pregnant!"

(T/n)'s jaws hung low in shock as they dropped the pan full of freshly baked bread. (Y/n) quickly scampered towards her to help pick up the food. She signed slowly as she tried to calm her apprentice down.

"I haven't told Giyuu yet. Let's surprise him!"

The woman's face brightened the whole room as the two of them baked a small cake with the Kanji saying 'omedetou'. After closing down the shop, (T/n) called over Giyuu as the two showed him the cake.

"Huh? Why are you guys saying congratulations? Who are we Congratulating..??"

He looked at the cake bewildered, before he slowly looked up at (Y/n).

"Are you.."

She nodded eagerly before she was swooped up by her husband. Even with one arm and his strength weakening, he was still able to pick her up so easily. Happy giggles erupted from the mute woman. It was hoarse, but...she hasn't laughed in such a long time. It still sounded like how it used to. The sight of hearing her laugh after 3 years couldn't help but draw out tears in (T/n) and Giyuu. After a few minutes, everyone was bawling their eyes out. 

I wish this happiness could last forever..

It's been 4 years and 3 month since the war ended..

A hoarse wail could be heard from the couple's room. (T/n) rushed ahead of Giyuu, who was struggling to walk in the direction of the cries of his wife. As they entered the room, (T/n) could see (Y/n) clutching the sheets of her bed, her knuckles turning white, and her hair disheveled as strands fell from her loose ponytail. The midwife next to her was coaching her through every step, calling over (T/n) to bring the towels that they had brought. Fear clouds the apprentice's eyes as they see their mentor's head fall back onto her pillow, her breathing shallow as she looks at her apprentice with tearful eyes. Her mouth slowly opened through hastened breaths.

"Today's.. my....birthday...."

She croaked out. Suddenly, Giyuu weakly enters the room. His footsteps were heavy as his knees fell onto the tatami mats next to his wife's mattress. Her hands fiercely wrap around his as she screams, pushing one final time before a small cry could be heard from around the room. 

(T/n) just stood there. The realization hits them as they watch the baby being treated by one of the midwives. 'birthday..? Well, then that means she's...'

Their gaze reverts back to their mentor's body, her breath becoming more labored as the light in her eyes slowly starts to fade. Her hands gingerly passed by Giyuu's cheek as she smiled at him weakly. She mouthed something; (T/n) couldn't quite see it from where they were standing; in fact, they couldn't move at all; all they could do was watch as (Y/n) passed. Giyuu, now realizing what's happening, called one of the midwives frantically as they tried their best to resuscitate her. 

'She turns 25 today..'

(T/n) already knew it was useless.

It's been 3 months.

There (T/n) stands in the rain, a baby strapped tightly against their body with a white cloth. The soft snore coming from the child brought warmth throughout their whole body as they stood in front of two graves.

A soft voice could be heard from behind.

"I'm sure Giyuu-san and (y/n)-san would be happy to see you taking care of their child."

Four other people slowly approached the apprentice and the baby. Tears streak down their faces as they place flowers on the graves. (T/n) sniffled and nodded as they turned towards them, their own eyes full of sadness as they watched the last remaining bloodline of the two former Hashira's being swaddled in the former tsuguko's arms.

"Thank you Tanjirou. I'm sure they both enjoyed what time they had left. Together."

Closing notes~ this kinda cringy :)

⋆｡°·☁︎requests are open☁︎·°｡⋆ ~Sincerely, Greece

[the-bar-sinister]

Not Needed, But Desired (8322 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 2/2

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Baby 5/Komurasaki | Kozuki Hiyori

Additional Tags: Femslash, Rare Pairings, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, genre: pirate slice of life, Background Slash, Third Corazon Trafalgar D. Water Law, Minor Donquixote Doflamingo/Trafalgar D. Water Law, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff Summary: Baby 5 finds herself head over heals for the newest member of the Donquixote pirates, Komurasaki, the runaway princess of Wano. In the aftermath of a minor scuffle with the marines the two women grow closer despite their wildly different backgrounds.

-

It took most of the day for the family to denude the island of anything interesting— between the marines, their ships, the materials the Spade pirates had left and, yes— the buried treasure that Pica had unearthed underneath the encampment. 

Fred's tidepool had been left where it was, and they took a sliver of the vivre card just in case.

Dinner was the usual raucous affair with the family, everyone back on the ship and talking about the island and the fight, and the haul, and the upcoming Uta concert. Komurasaki sat beside her once again, and once again, came to help with the cleanup after it was over.

Baby 5 scrubbed at a dish as the conversation still buzzed in her mind, her smile lopsided as she glanced over towards Komurasaki to hand her a plate. "Excited for the Uta concert, Saki?" 

Saki nodded and handed her another plate, before drying the first. "I imagine that it's going to be a lot different from the musical performances I've been to."

Baby 5 giggled and ran the offered dish under the water. "Probably yeah, what's the music of Wano like anyway?" 

"I wish I could play some for you," she said, "unfortunately my instrument was destroyed when the Polar Tang sank."

"Awww…." Baby 5 pouted around her cigarette as she scrubbed hard at the plates. "That sucks, maybe Giolla can make you a new one? She's a talented artist, she could probably figure it out if you told her what it was like." 

"Perhaps," she considered, carefully drying more dishes, as they worked together in a dance considerably less brutal than their battle together earlier. "Though I'm almost curious to learn a new instrument now that I've left Wano behind."

"Oooh…Dia's got a guitar, if you're interested in that! I can probably beg him to let you borrow it. I think some of the others have instruments too. I tried to learn one once, but I'm kinda iffy when it comes to musical talent." Baby babbled on as she fussed with a plate, turning it over and over and over again. 

"Do you ever sing?" Saki asked her. She cocked her head, giving her a curious look with her sea-deep eyes again.

Baby 5 flushed deeply, catching her eyes with a flustered half smile. She sang, she'd sing for Diamante when he played the guitar, or when Vi danced along to the feverish beat in her dances with Doffy.

She didn't think she was very good, admittedly. Back in the day, Law had always snarled that 'she sounded like a dying cat trying to sing a love song', much to her embarrassment. But the family never seemed to complain.

"S-sometimes," she murmured, "for Dia and Violet, and Doffy when he's feeling lonely." 

"If I can borrow Dia's guitar, will you sing with me?"

Baby 5 felt her face heat up even more. 

"Y-yeah of course I will! I'd be happy to!" She half turned to look at her with a wide smile "But I warn you, I'm—okay—at best, but I'm going to try my hardest for you, ok?" 

Saki smiled at her. "I think a genuine voice is nicer to listen to sometimes than a well trained one. My own is… very well trained." Her smile flickered a little.

Baby 5 reached out and her suds-slick fingers brushed against Saki's cheek near her flickering smile. "Anything I sing'll be genuine, promise. I… can bet it is, Saki. Honestly I'm curious to see how you take to the guitar, huh?" 

Komursaki paused and leaned into her touch. "Perhaps we can ask this evening. Oh– speaking of which. I noticed that there were clothes among the things we brought onto the ship."

Her fingers lingered against her skin, brushing softly near the cheekbone as she titled her head. "So there were, actually. A whole bunch of 'em, even. Think anything'll fit you?" 

"That's what I was wondering," she said. She turned so that her lips touched her wet fingers and kissed them softly. "Do we need permission to go through them?"

Baby 5 felt a sudden thrill roll through her at the sensation of the woman's lips against her fingers. "You're an officer of the Corazon Army, Saki-baby. You don't need permission for somethin' as simple as that. We can just walk right in and help ourselves. 

She smiled brightly and pressed her cheek against her fingers again. "After we're done here then. Would you look with me?"

Baby 5 leaned in and pecked her lips before she grinned widely. "I'd fuckin' LOVE to. Let's hurry up with these dishes, Saki! I'm dying to know what we find!" 

"Let's hurry then. So am I." She smiled, and kissed her back softly.

The kiss lingered over the smell of soap for a long moment before Baby 5 redirected their attention to their chore. Usually she delighted in the little chores and tasks she did around the ship, reveling in the small hits of validating happiness at helping her family even in such small ways.

But today she found herself rushing side by side with Saki as she worked to clean the dishes as fast as possible.

She couldn't wait to see what Saki wanted to wear, or how damn good she'd look in it. 

-

Komurasaki had never seen so many unfamiliar clothes. There were several crates of them, including the ones that had been brought from the island, and the ones apparently retrieved from the personal items of the marine ships. There were a lot of various sizes, and styles, and levels of wear, and almost without thinking, she and Baby 5 had started to sort them as they went through.

"They're so different." Komursaki— Saki, as she was starting to like being called— liked how unfamiliar they were. She'd been enjoying wearing Violet's dresses, certainly, but this presented an opportunity to pull herself even further from her roots on Wano.

Baby 5 was holding up a marine coat, her cigarette dangling from her lips as she tossed it over her shoulder into the 'to be heavily altered' pile. She seemed rather happy to be sorting through clothes with her, enthusiastically shoving various pieces at Saki as she found them when they didn't quite fit into this pile or that.

"From the stuff in Wano? I'd say, this stuff came from all over the great blue seas!" 

"So I can tell! Are all of these common to wear? Aside from the uniform pieces, I mean."

For most of Saki's life, she'd worn ceremonial clothing— clothing that had been picked for her, and was worn for a specific display purpose, and which she often needed assistance to put on or take off.

Baby 5 grinned at her around her cigarette, the ruffled frill of her maid's apron rustling as she bent down and picked up a pair of tall boots and held them up to her foot to judge their size. "Yeah, most of it anyway. See…this kind of style was really popular around Dressrosa."

She picked up a shirt , meant to be worn open at the chest in a garish pale green animal print of jagged stripes. "Bright, flashy, animal print. Very common where we used to operate." 

"It has a very eye-catching look." She ran her fingers over the fabric. "I wonder what it would be like to wear something like that. Do you think I'd look ridiculous?"

Saki was pretty certain that no matter what she wore, she'd look ridiculous. She was ridiculous. She was a princess. An oiran. The best oiran. She was a decorative novelty at best, something to be dressed and cared for. To have her hair brushed and styled.

The fact that she had left Wano was ridiculous.

"You wanna give it a try?" Baby 5 asked her excitedly. "Doffy and Derringer and…geeze, a buncha the other officers and executives all love that kinda look. I think it'd look fuckin' adorable on you! Hell! It kinda goes with your hair, too!"

Baby 5 didn't seem to think it was ridiculous at all. Maybe because she herself was a little ridiculous. If it would make Baby 5 smile her ridiculous smile, then Saki would try it whether she looked adorable or not.

"You think so? Then I'll happily try it. You'll have to show me how to put it on, however."

Baby 5 made a muscle, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm the best at helpin' people put things on. I used to help Derringer out when he was trying different dresses and stuff as a kid. And Sugar has me help her all the time!" She laid out the shirt, and looked around "Y'want a skirt to go with it, or a pair of pants?" 

Saki thought about it. "I've never worn pants."

Baby 5 looked up at her with wide eyes "Wano doesn't even have fuckin' pants??? What DO they have? I mean, besides 'way too much fuckin' propriety' I guess."

She tutted her tongue and pulled out a pair of pants in lemon yellow with a little sunburst on the ass.

She held them up with a big grin. "Ta da!" 

"Kimono, mostly," she answered. She looked over the pants. They were absolutely ridiculous, and Saki loved them immediately. There was no way anyone would ever think that someone wearing those pants was a princess, or a famous oiran. "Oh those are fascinating. Please show me how to put them on, could you?"

"Y-you got it!" Baby 5 saluted before she turned a deep and flustered red. "but you're gonna have to strip. Is that alright?" 

Komurasaki was very familiar with being naked in front of people. Clients and servants mostly. She hadn't even thought for a moment to be embarrassed about it, but as Baby 5 brought up that she might be, she felt her cheeks flush.

"Is it a problem?"

"Not with me, Saki-baby!" Baby 5 chirped as she brushed her hand through her curly and unruly hair. Still, there was that notable flush on her face as she looked her over. "I mean—you're beautiful, and I'm comfy around you, and if you're comfy around me…"

Saki decided to tease her a little. "Would you help me undress, then? If there's no problem."

She turned and raised her arms for Baby 5 to help her out of her dress.

Baby 5 turned a deeper shade of pink before she scurried over in a rather animated fashion to dip down and start unlacing the back of Saki's dress with nimble fingers. "Y-yes ma'am~" 

She laughed softly, and teased a little further. "Ma'am, hmm?"

The dress slipped off her, exposing her pale, soft flesh. One day, she hoped, it would be marked with scars from a life well lived. For now it was a soft, unpainted canvas.

"I mean if you want me to call you ma'am! Or I can just call you Saki-baby, like usual!" Baby 5 had started to babble as her fingers trailed down her unmarked skin as she peeled the dress downwards. 

"It sounds like you like calling me 'ma'am'," she teased. "So I'd like that."

"S-sometimes," Baby 5 squeaked as she half knelt to lower the dress down Saki's hips. "I mean it's what a maid calls people…and Doffy likes it when I call him Young Master, so, I mean.."

She was certainly flustered now as her smile went lopsided. "I'm glad you don't mind it, ma'am." 

Saki chuckled, letting the dress fall around her hips, exposing the soft rise of her breasts, and flustering Baby 5 further– she was certain.

"Not at all."

From the slight tremor and the intense heat coming off her as she eased the dress aside and stood to look up at her—and very briefly but obviously her breasts—it was safe to say she was very flustered.

"You wanted me to show you how to…uhm…wow you're pretty, ma'am." 

Saki tilted her chin down to look at her with a coy glance. "Why thank you."

Baby 5 smiled up at her–that wide and ridiculous smile that she wore sometimes, this time with cheeks flushed red as a rose and eyes visibly trying not to drift down to Saki's chest as she fumbled for the yellow pants. "You're welcome, Miss Saki." 

Saki liked that smile of hers. It was so unrestrained, so carefree. It made her happy to see.

She lifted her feet, one after the other, to step into the pants as Baby 5 helped her.

Baby 5 slid the ridiculous yellow pants, their fabric slightly thick and stiff but soft to the touch as they slid up her legs as Baby 5 knelt with her arms around her, smoothing out wrinkles as she pulled them up. 

Saki watched her with amusement, letting her dress her. Saki was very good at letting other people dress her. It was more fun with Baby 5 doing it. The pants felt strange however. A little bit constricting, but not in an unpleasant way.

"They fit?" she asked.

Baby 5 ran her hands up her legs with a flustered edge to her big grin. 

"Yeah, I'd say. They're snug, but they're kinda meant to be? They're the type of pants that are meant to show off your curves, you know? Your hips." She lightly patted the sunburst on the ass, flushing as she did. "That's why it's got a decoration there, too." 

"That's very new for me," she said, smirking a little as her ass was patted. She was working to show her emotions more naturally— to restrain herself less. "Showing off curves. When I'm dressed, at least."

Baby 5 seemed to notice, especially with the way she wiggled down there in seeming joy.

"There's a kind of thrill in showing off even when dressed, you know? That's why I wear such a short skirt and low cut blouse." She stood slowly as she grabbed the shirt, still standing rather close to Saki. "Ready for your shirt, Miss Saki?" 

Saki ran her hands down her waist and hips– snug in the pants. "How do the pants look without it?"

Baby 5 seemed to have a physical full body shiver—a very strange one as what looked like a brief ripple of small knife edges trailed up her body as she looked at Saki with wide and interested eyes. "Gorgeous, I mean, it's a bold look!" 

She chuckled, watching Baby's shiver. "Good. Too bold for now, I think. But perhaps some other time."

Baby 5's eyes lingered on her chest again for a moment as she smiled. "Maybe some other time. You'd look great, Miss Saki."

She shifted and raised the shirt, which she started to help her into with a quiet hum. "so this is meant to be worn open at the front, or at least mostly open." 

"Does it need a garment under it?" Saki asked curiously.

-

Baby 5 felt like her brain was sputtering out in real time. At some point she'd gotten so entranced with Saki that she'd started slipping in her coy little 'Miss' and "ma'am's" before she knew it. Flirtatious deference, not like the desperate and needy deference she showed when she needed, NEEDED, to be wanted—but the same sort she showed for Doffy.

She looked up at her, as she slipped the fabric of the shirt over her arms with a chew of her lip. Saki was beautiful, the most beautiful woman Baby 5 had ever seen and certainly one of the most charming. There was just something about her, especially as she introduced her to things outside the narrow box of Wano.

She'd helped her dress, picking through the admittedly impressive pool of seized clothing to find what might suit her until she found something that just screamed 'Saki the deadly pirate'. A bright and cheerful color that'd well reflect any blood splattered across her in the heat of battle.

As they goofed around together she seemed to start to show more, a smirk here and a smile there, opening herself up to Baby 5 in a way that made it feel almost intimate.

Baby 5's crush was threatening to turn into something deeper as she buttoned up the buttons up to just under Saki's chest.

"You can wear one but they're not necessary. A tube top, or a bustier would probably work, but if you leave it open like this it covers the breasts but shows the curve of them and the overall shape of your torso."

She smoothed out the long lapels of the shirt and tried to arrange it nicely around her chest "just be careful bending over for stuff." 

"Hmm." Saki let Baby 5 arrange it for her. The way she let her help her dress reminded Baby 5 of Doffy, too. It was clear that Saki was used to people dressing and undressing her. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm curious how it looks without."

She hoped that familiarity wasn't ruining it for her, she hoped that it wasn't 'too close to Wano'. There were few casual and intimate moments Baby 5 liked more than dressing and undressing someone she cared about. The lingering of touch and the choosing of the right outfits to make sure the person shined—it was something that appealed to her honor as a maid, and the part of her that buzzed with affection and attraction.

"Then I won't get an undergarment! And maybe find you a mirror, Miss Saki!" 

Saki leaned into her, letting the touch linger just like Baby 5 had hoped. Her smirk was hitched and comfortable. "Do please find me a mirror, Baby. I'd like to see how it looks."

Baby 5 bowed her body with a widened grin. Impishly, she lifted Saki's hand and kissed it before she scampered away with a nod, looking around the room for any mirror that might help. "There's got to be one around here…"

She remembered seeing one in one of the chests of the Spade Pirates' clothes, and sure enough there was a large mirror under a few pairs of denim pants.

"Do you think it looks good?" Saki asked curiously as Baby grabbed it.

Baby held it up in front of her, peeking out from its side to grin widely at her as she spoke honestly. "I think you look fantastic, Miss Saki. It's very West Blue, or-–I mean, it's very Dressrosa too. You look, wow…you're takin' my breath away."

It was true. All of it. The way the brightly colored pants clung to her thighs and the curve of her hips, and the open dress shirt with its bold minty animal print baring her milky flesh and the just-visible curve of her breast….it was making her a little weak at the knees. 

Saki pushed her shining green hair back behind her shoulders. "Taking your breath away? That's a high compliment. I think I like how it feels, anyway."

"It is! Lookit, I can barely breathe!" she put her hand to her throat with a flustered grin. "Wheeze, wheeze." She flushed, that– that was a stupid joke. She looked up at her again and tried to babble it off. "you do huh? It's a comfortable kinda outfit and it REALLY suits ya…Miss Saki." 

Saki was, unfortunately, too busy giggling at the joke. She pushed her hair back again and caught her breath. "Thank you… thank you. Can I see the mirror now?"

Baby 5 jolted before running it over to hold it out to her with a grin. "Here you go!" 

Saki gazed into it for a moment, and then started to preen, smoothing her new clothes and her hair. "I really need to do something about my hair, I think…"

Baby 5 watched her preen, so much like Doffy in that way again. She flushed, ducking her head. "They look natural on you, ma'am…your hair? Are you gonna cut it?" 

"I don't know," she said. She grabbed it and held it back, looking at herself in the mirror. "I've always worn it up."

Baby 5 leaned closer, bringing the mirror up to better reflect her face and hair. "like in a ponytail?" 

"No," she shook her head. "Quite complicated hairstyles. I'm contemplating what it would look like simply tied back, versus cut."

Baby 5 chewed her lip for a moment before she reached back with one hand to fiddle with her own hair. The wide curls bounced as she slowly undid her favorite ribbon and pulled it from behind her head.

She paused before she asked. "Can I tie it back for you, Saki-baby?" 

Saki paused too, and glanced curiously at the ribbon in her hand. She smiled warmly. "Please."

Baby 5 put the mirror down, and twisted the pale yellow ribbon around her fingers for a moment before she slipped behind Saki. 

"Just tied back huh? Alright gimme a sec…I used to do this kinda thing all the time for Miss Monet." Her nimble fingers gathered up Saki's hair "and luckily I had this ribbon on me…I mean, I usually do—"

"I suppose it's still warm from you using it," Saki said teasingly, letting Baby toy with her hair.

"A-absolutely, it is!" she wound it around Saki's beautiful hair, working to tie it back. "It was a gift to me when I was a little girl. It's kinda old now, but Doffy gave it to me when I first joined the gang as a child. I got really into collecting bows for a time, wearing all kinds of different ones, including this really cute big red one. But this one was always the most special to me." 

"That's so sweet," Saki leaned into her. "It's… touching that you trust me enough to use in my hair, even for the moment."

Baby 5 flushed, leaning into her from behind as she tied the ribbon and let Saki's hair fall between them. For a moment– one lovely moment, she let herself nuzzle gently against her back and take her in, feel and scent. "Of course I do! I-I mean you're a part of the Donquixote family, right? And we've been getting along, and, I trust you. I know you won't do anything to it." 

Saki smiled at her. "No, I wouldn't."

She turned to face her again, and put her arms around Baby 5's waist.

Baby 5 looked into her eyes, her hands lingering on her shoulders as she gave her another broad smile. "Well that looks fantastic on you, too." 

"Then I should get some ribbons of my own. I don't think I'm ready to cut my hair just yet." She leaned her forehead against Baby 5's.

"You should, Miss Saki," Baby 5 leaned forehead to forehead, her fingers gently tracking down her upper back. "Did that mean something special in Wano? Cutting your hair? I'd heard some islands have special ceremonies around it."

Geeze, though. Saki was gorgeous like this. Unbuttoned from the prim and proper 'Wano' life she talked about in such a tired voice, dressed colorfully with her hair tied back—she really looked like part of the family.

Baby 5 brushed her thumb in a gentle circle against her shoulderblade. She had really gotten to like Saki. A lot. Her heart pattered in her chest as she met her eyes over the smolder of her cigarette.

She let it fall to the ground where she snuffed it with the tip of her shoe. They'd kissed..--- they'd kissed earlier. That meant that Saki liked her too, right? More than just needed her, maybe. Possibly—if she was lucky. 

"Mmm…" she shook her head gently against Baby 5's. "I don't want to think about what it meant or didn't mean on Wano. I want to cut or leave my hair because I like it. That's the way I'd like to do things from now on."

"Good. Then you just gotta keep following your heart, Saki," Baby 5 murmured "and I think your hair looks beautiful. It's nice to see my favorite ribbon on you…" 

"You like it, hmm?" she smiled that teasing smile at her.It made Baby 5's heart race. She was being teased, like a whole hell of a lot . But somehow she didn't mind it at all.

"I d-do, yeah. I'd love to help you experiment with your hair, too. If you want." 

Saki batted her eyelashes, and her voice lowered coyly. "I'd love to experiment with you, too."

Baby 5's face went brick red, and she was damn sure that she'd started steaming like a kettle or the tank of some kind of explosive. She sputtered a little, unable to find her voice as she tightened her arms around Saki.

"I…ah, you wanna experiment with me, Saki?" 

Saki pressed her nose against Baby 5's. "If you'd want to. Tell me, please, if I misunderstand."

She was asking her, directly asking her—so many people in the world outside the Family disregarded her feelings or pressed their advantage on her desperate to please nature, but Saki asked.

She smiled shyly, nuzzling her nose against her. It was no wonder Doffy approved—and it was no wonder that Saki was tightening the threads around her lover's heart.

She nodded slowly. "I want to, you didn't misunderstand Saki—I promise you didn't." 

Saki kissed her softly on the lips. "Why don't we go back to your cabin. I believe we had a conversation from earlier to continue."

Baby 5 let the kiss linger a moment before she nodded and offered her hand to Saki with a chuckle "I was hoping you remembered that, Saki. C-come on before someone comes in and teases us huh?"

A conversation to continue, wanting to experiment—Baby 5's heart skipped a beat. She could take that as proof, right? Real proof. Proof that Saki liked her and didn't just 'need' her.

She wanted her enthusiasm, their mutual enjoyment…

Baby 5 was all too happy to give it to her. She gripped her hand firmly for a moment, holding it to her chest with an increasingly warm and eager smile "come on, Saki—Lemme show you around my room." 

[bogaffxiv]

BOGA

B A S I C S

Nickname(s): None Age: 30 Nameday: 3rd Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon Race: Hrothgar Gender: Cis Female Orientation: Pansexual, Poly-embittered to the idea of romance Profession: Mercenary/Adventurer

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Pale blonde, with white highlights throughout. Worn in a ponytail with braids and a single side bang framing her face. Scented delicately with spicy, floral jasmine. Eyes: Golden, like the sun; don't stare directly into it. Fur: White, with pale gold stripes. Tattoos/Scars: Several intricate and tribal-esque body paint designs glamoured on her body from head to toe. All dark, inky blue. Too many scars to name.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Rosta (Biological Mother), Unknown father. Both alive; dead to her. Siblings: Several brothers, none close. No sisters. In-laws and Others: Petra, a Rava Viera, who some would call Boga's adoptive mother. Boga owes Petra a life debt - at least in her own mind. She claims no other family, extended or otherwise. Pets: None; her job keeps her away for extended periods of time, and she has no desire to keep around another mouth to feed.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Groomed for leadership since birth, Boga has a talent for taking charge of a situation; a responsibility that she wholly rejects, given the opportunity. Even still, she's landed a place as second in command of Petra's free company. She's socially adept and keeps many associates; some for pleasure, some for personal gain. She knows her way well around lances, swords, and hand-to hand combat. As a long-time adventurer, she's picked up several survival-related skills and knows well enough how to navigate herself through unknown territory. Hobbies: Photography, dancing, reading.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Loyal. Most Negative Trait: Treacherous.

L I K E S

Colors: Blue-green, brown, dark blue. Smells: Jasmine flowers, fresh baked goods, a crackling hearth, sizzling meats, coffee. Textures: The soft touch of a blanket, the skin of a lover, the crunch of ice and snow beneath her feet. Drinks: Coffee, water, any and all alcoholic beverages with varying appreciation. Tea, with plenty of honey, for sickness, or to soothe a sore throat.

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Often; socially, for pleasure, stress relief, or as an oral fixation. Drinks: Constantly; functioning alcoholic. Drugs: Yes; socially, for sleep - to escape nightmares. Prefers a mellow, comforting experience. Mount Issuance: Boga doesn't keep a personal mount, but is licensed to ride rented chocobos. Prefers walking, running, or carriages. Been Arrested: Yes, likely several times, most likely spent sobering up overnight in the brig of Limsa.

Stolen From Tagged By: @thefreelanceangel

[lovelyfxxl]

P R E S E N T I N G

_____________ M I S S D O V E Y S T G E O R G E ___

to her majesty queen eleanor hanover.

the room was long and narrow with all the furniture seemingly removed, or perhaps never having been decorated, aside from a pair of ornate thrones at the far end, elevated on a stage where a small assemblage of flamboyant courtiers attended the queen and fawned over the various little gems who traipsed down the carpet for presentation. it was all very... glittery. dovey did not know what sort of reception she expected to find here, but the inherent ire these socialites bore towards americans proved markedly more than whatever daydreams she'd entertained leading up to this night. the familiarity immediately set her upon edge.

dear emily took great care in going over with the 'young' ones under her guidance, and then going over with them again, each proper step in this meticulous orchestration. first names and titles would be announced, one was to promenade down the aisle lined with eager onlookers to the edge of the stage, then bow and/or curtsy at a respectable height, and be appraised before being dismissed to enjoy the festivities of the evening. none of that might have bothered her a tick had all the eyes on them not felt so terribly abrasive from the very beginning. "oh, it is bending at the waist and knees, it cannot be more frightening than crossing an ocean, right?" dovey half hissed, half whispered before the doors opened for the lytton family, which presently included the motley crew of wards.

aera froze like a frightened mouse, it seemed, while hari floundered a bit. this sort of affair was not among their innumerable talents, and it riled an all too familiar indignation to think her friends might be thought less of by this parade of flounce for that. without a second thought, dovey stepped forward with the express intention of drawing attention, negative and otherwise, towards herself as she, quite unlike her companions, relished the performance of it all. was she not here to entertain as it were? casual confidence kept her chin raised and eyes meeting only the monarchy to which she was meant to be impressing until the very moment her head bowed. no one would claim her manners practiced, her countenance perfect, nor even graceful, but captivating? dovey could pull that off, for a moment at least.

[dilanseyfi]

Is that DILAN SEYFI? I heard the THIRTY TWO year old works as a FAILED ARTIST/APPRAISER AT THE HERITAGE VAULT. Which makes sense, seeing how they are CREATIVE, but can also be IMPRACTICAL. Do they know what’s going on in the city? I heard they are a CLEAN CIVILIAN.

S T A T S

FULL NAME: Dilan Seyfi NICKNAME(S): N/A OCCUPATION: Appraiser at The Heritage Vault

GENDER: Cis Woman PRONOUNS: She/Her NATIONALITY: Turkish ETHNICITY: Turkish

BIRTH PLACE: Izmir, Turkey HOMETOWN: Izmir, Turkey SOCIAL CLASS:  Currently lower-middle class EDUCATION LEVEL: College graduate (BFA) FATHER:  Ahmet Seyfi MOTHER: Cemre Seyfi SIBLING(S): tbd CHILDREN: 0 PET(S): N/A

B I O G R A P H Y

Dilan Seyfi had always been destined for greatness—or at least, that’s what everyone told her. A child prodigy, her paintings were mesmerizing from the moment she could hold a brush. She wasn’t just good—she was exceptional. The kind of exceptional that made teachers beam with pride and made her parents boast to anyone who would listen. So when she was accepted into Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University, it wasn’t a surprise. It was expected.

But school didn’t shape her the way she had hoped. If anything, it dulled the spark. The praise that had once fueled her felt routine, and while her classmates struggled to find their style, she had already mastered hers. She left with a degree but no real sense of growth. That didn’t matter, though—her paintings spoke for themselves. Europe wanted her. Galleries in Paris, Berlin, and Milan clamored for her work. She was young, brilliant, untouchable. And then came the calls from New York and L.A. It felt inevitable. Of course, she was going to conquer the U.S. She was too big to fail.

But she did.

American audiences didn’t see what the Europeans had seen in her work. Her first few exhibitions barely made a ripple. Collectors weren’t interested. The buzz died down, and suddenly, she was scrambling—pouring her own money into shows that no one came to, chasing an audience that wasn’t looking for her. She told herself it was just a rough patch. Just one more show. Just one more loan.

Going home wasn’t an option. Back home, her family still spoke of her like she was a legend. Their little prodigy. The one who made it. She couldn’t stand the thought of facing them, of hearing the hushed whispers and seeing the disappointment in their eyes. She would rather scrape by in L.A. than go back and admit she wasn’t who they thought she was.

And so now, she’s here—an assistant at the Royal Bidding House, surrounded by the art world but utterly disconnected from it. The job requires a degree, but she does nothing that needs one. She’s a glorified paper-pusher, fetching coffee and organizing auctions for people who barely notice her. She hates every second of it, but it’s better than facing the truth. Better than going home.

So she keeps digging the hole deeper, knowing that eventually, someone’s going to figure out she's not what she says she is. But she can’t stop. Because the moment she stops, the moment she admits this is over, she’s nothing. And Dilan Seyfi has spent her entire life being someone.

H E A D C A N N O N S:

Dilan still paints, but only in secret—small canvases tucked away in her tiny apartment, unfinished because finishing them would mean admitting she still cares.

She tells herself she’s just waiting for the right moment to make a comeback, but deep down, she knows she doesn’t believe in her own talent anymore.

Despite everything, she still dresses like she belongs in the art world—statement pieces, bold colors, the kind of effortless style that makes her look more successful than she is.

She hates the wealthy collectors who parade through the Royal Bidding House, but she envies them too—how easily they buy the kind of life she spent years bleeding for.

No matter how bad things get, she refuses to take a flight home, because the idea of walking through the airport in Istanbul with nothing to show for herself is more terrifying than anything else.

W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S H E R E

[efficiiency]

𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 "𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐞" 𝐜𝐡𝐨

❝ Once, I ran, face first, into a mirror because I didn’t recognize my reflection, because I didn’t see a reflection at all. ❞

B A S I C S –

Name: Bernadette Cho, FKA Bernadette Wray. Nicknames: Bernie. Birthday: December 9, 1984. Pronouns: She/her. Gender/Sex: Cisgender/female. Sexuality: Bisexual(?). Occupation: Seafoam owner.

P E R S O N A L I T Y —

+ Articulate, reflective, approachable. - Anxious, embarrassing, short-tempered. Has cool aunt energy despite being a regular mom. She's finally in the stage of life where she knows (mostly) what she wants so she's coming out of her shell in big ways - involving herself in the community, adding color to her new (solo-owned!) apartment, and throwing her entire wardrobe out in order to start fresh. She loves to laugh though she's not very funny, and she's always down for a glass of lemonade and a few cigarettes on the balcony.

A R R I V A L — ( 2005 )

The moment that Bernie and Kilroy graduated, they headed to Aurora Bay to be closer to Kilroy's family. Bernie loves California so it wasn't a huge change, but she never quite felt like she fit in. Almost twenty years later she's finally made some steps toward making Aurora Bay her home.

C O N N E C T I O N S —

Delilah Carreño: close friends. Met very early on into Bernie's time in Aurora Bay, and they've managed to hold onto their friendship the whole time. Elliot Wray: ex-situationship. Kilroy's sister and the reason Bernie was able to find her sexuality & her confidence to leave her ex-husband. They don't talk anymore... much. Mei Huang: good friends. Bernie doesn't much like being a mom, but she likes being a mom with Mei.

E X T R A B I T S —

– Never used to care about her nails, but after her divorce/coming out (and after fixing her relationship with her sister), she started going bi-weekly to get a full mani/pedi with her sister. It's a great way to bond and also to check in with herself/show some self care. – Disaster in the kitchen. DO NOT LET THIS WOMAN COOK! Has set multiple kitchen fires. Her biggest expense outside of the club is all of the delivered food she gets. – (Mostly) sober because she gets too wild when she drinks. If there's an event at the club she's particularly excited about she'll have a few drinks, but she always employs one of her friends to keep her safe. – Has the loudest, most annoying laugh in the world. It sounds fake but it's all naturale, baby. If you really get her going, she'll start wheezing.

B A C K G R O U N D —

tw: cheating

- Bernie grew up the daughter of two first-generation Korean immigrants. Her and her younger sister were treated under the harsh boots of two loving parents who both feared and adored America, so curfews were strict and screen time was non-existent. Bernie was always good with the rules imposed in her household, but her sister, Carol, was not. - Carol and Bernie's relationship seesawed back and forth depending on how harsh their parents were being. Most of the time, they weren't on good terms. The four year gap between them kept them at odds, and even after Bernie left for college, the divide between the sisters stayed. - The only escape Bernie ever had from her home - the only place she could be completely alone - was in her writing. Poetry mostly, though also short stories and, though they made her blush to handwrite, romances. Her passion (and talent) for her craft was clear from a young age; her teachers encouraged her, even if her parents didn't, and preferred she follow a more lucrative career path like being a doctor, or... being a doctor. - Bernie applied to as many colleges as she could, as far away as she found, with as little contact with her family as possible. While she promised she'd pursue a degree her parents would be proud of her for, the first thing Bernie did was declare herself undeclared and the second thing she did was fill her schedule with classes she thought were more interesting than biology or anatomy. - The third thing she did was fall in love.

- Kilroy Wray was charm with legs. He captured Bernie's heart immediately with feats of romance like flowers delivered to her dorm room and improv'd songs in the cafeteria. He was like a character from a rom-com come to life and wouldn't you know it, he loved her, of all people. Plain Bernadette Cho was the apple of a man's eye. That's what she always wanted, right? What she always should have wanted? - Three years of school flew by, and the summer before their senior year, Kilroy pitched marriage. It felt like a simple choice: her parents would hate it, so of course Bernie should do it. This was also, unfortunately, around when Bernie's horrible bout of writer's block took hold; she struggled academically through much of her English degree requirements, and many professors spoke of their concern. She waved off their worries, graduated, and then Kilroy whisked her off to Aurora Bay to start their family. - For a long time, Bernie took birth control pills religiously. While she knew that, eventually, her husband expected children, her own strained relationship with her parents always turned her off to the idea. She just wasn't ready, and, truthfully, she wasn't certain she ever would be. Instead of a baby, Kilroy decided they should invest in a business. Without a real plan for her life anymore, Bernie agreed, and together they opened Hot Spot: a night club that, though insistent upon it's unique qualities, turned out to be just like any other night club. - And so that was life for nearly a decade. Years passed by like water through her fingers; never once did she turn back to her writing that had at one point been her only solace. Her distance led to some drinking and partying that she isn't proud of, and her drinking and partying led her to a string of bad decisions (and lack of care) that resulted in a baby. When Bernie was a ripe 30 years old (truly in her prime!) she gave birth to a daughter: Penelope. - Though she's loathe to admit it, Bernie felt burdened by the child. While she'd been pretty sure before, now she was certain: motherhood wasn't for her. She didn't even know if she loved Kilroy anymore. She didn't even know if she really loved men at all.

- In a terrible turn of events (and decidedly not the fault of drinking), Bernie began sleeping with Kilroy's sister when Penelope was 2. It just happened. The stress of being a new mother paired with the stress of being in a relationship she wasn't even sure she was still happy in drove her to terrible places - mostly between Elliot Wray's legs. - Three years of on-and-off sleeping around finally led to Kilroy discovering the affair (2019). Crushed and murderous, he threatened Bernie's parental rights. She didn't want them anyway. While she did want to be there for her daughter, she knew she couldn't be the parent that Penelope deserved, so she took partial custody of Penny and full custody of Hot Spot. - With a failing business on her hands and a new life in front of her, Bernie decided to embrace the newer clientele she had been serving. Most of the Hot Spot's patrons were fruity as it is, due to their high security measures making drag queens and their crews feel safe enough to dance without watching over their shoulders. In January of 2020, Bernie closed the Hot Spot for "renovations", and in April, she re-opened it under the name Seafoam. Since it's rebranding and reopening as an LGBTQ+ bar, its impact on the community (and Bernie's sense of self) has only grown. - After Kilroy and Bernie's divorce, Bernie called off the affair with Elliot. They're civil - more civil than with Kilroy - but it's not exactly hugs and kisses. Now, Bernie's throwing everything she has into making Seafoam as lively as possible, as well as being the best every-other-weekend-mother she can be. - When the whole ordeal with Bernie and Kilroy went down, Carol reappeared in her sister's life, this time with the intention of staying there for good. They've been repairing their relationship ever since, and are now best friends in the way they could never be while growing up. Carol has also been her biggest fan, hyping her up to get her back into writing (because the minute she left her ex-husband, her muse came back. How funny!)

PENNED BY MIGZ. ( @aurorabayaesthetic )

[mod-kyoko]

I've always liked the idea of this prompt. Ibuki with a boyfriend who's a tsundere. Sure, he's prickly, but the thing is, is she loves him like that and isn't afraid to give him all the affection she wants. Despite how he acts, he absolutely loves it and tends to get flustered by the affection, which ibuki, of course, finds adorable.

ibuki mioda w/ tsundere boyfriend

info: male!reader

type: hc format, non-despair au

a/n: you could literally tell ibuki the most awful things about herself and she'll go "okay! :D" does anyone else find ibuki's default sprite really hot for some reason

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

you weren't the most liked person in school

in fact you tended to drive others away with your defensive personality, like a dog you bark at anyone who comes close to you

it wasn't until that you enrolled into hope's peak academy that things flipped on it's head

you sat in your new classroom, surrounded by your new classmates... all with their own unique talents and annoyances

you kept to yourself, mumbling half-assed introductions to anyone who asked

safe to say, your classmates already made mental notes not to bother with you, you were fine with that

"heeeyooo!"

a sharp, annoying voice graced your ears. you looked up to see a punkish looking girl with a fashion sense that would put the elderly in their graves

"I-bu-ki mio-da! say it with me! ibuki mioda!" she sticks her tongue out as she gives you a peace sign

you were honestly perplexed, no one has shown you such excitement before... you grumbled and looked back down at your desk.

"y/n l/n... leave me alone..."

"y/n, y/n, y/n..." she repeated your name over and over again, tapping her temples. "got it! ibuki thinks that's a good name!"

"do you have stones in your ears? i said leave me alone!" you barked at her, but she just smiles at you and giggles

"ibuki's hearing is really good! wait... do i have stones in my ears...?" she tilts her head side to side like if she was trying to get water out of them. she wasn't phased by you at all...

and that's how it started

no matter how much you tried to push her away, or growl at her, or even insult her...

ibuki wasn't turned off from you by one bit, in fact it seemed like she enjoyed the way you are

she would laugh, saying that your words could be lyrics in the next song of hers

she was actually kind of your only friend in school for awhile... even though you denied the fact she was a friend to other people

you thought she was stupid... the amount of times you had to help her with projects or homework was astounding

half the time she wouldn't listen to what you were trying to teach her, instead she would rather balance a pencil on her nose

"ibuki! are you even listening?! idiot..."

"oh! whoops! sorry y/n! ibuki is listening... very loud and clear!"

then she would go right back to not listening...

you couldn't say that you hated her, or even disliked her. she was the only person who could tolerate you with no problems at all

at times she even defends your personality, saying that you were like a durian, spiky on the outside but a sweet taste within!

honestly it always made you blush... and she would tease you about it afterwards

"s-shut up! it's not like I care or anything!"

honestly it's not like you two even confessed to each other or anything, you just... got together

she always ran up behind you and hugged you, squeezing you tight

she was very affectionate with you, no matter how many times you yelled at her to get off of you she never does

and if she does start to pull away, you'd say:

"hey! I didn't say I didn't like it, idiot!"

she really likes seeing your face go red, a lot of the things she does are on purpose to make you blush, she really adores you when you're like that

calls you her 'love-note'

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

-Mod Kirumi

[circusclownsam]

House M.D oc

General information

first name; min-ya

last name; choi

nickname; minnie

born; 3 / 9

age; 20-30s

race; asian

ethnicity; korean - australian

languages spoken; english, korean

voice; mid pitch, noticeable australian accent

scent; a soft, marshmallow-y perfume

Appearance

height; 5’2, 158cm

weight(heaviness); light enough to pick up

skin tone; warm tan

eye colour; dark blue, with specks of light blue

hair colour; chocolate brown

hair length; falls to around her hip

hair texture; 2c

face claim; https://pin.it/1ZFXaIaGy

body shape; hourglass, average thickness, small waist, d cup

scarring; inner thighs, arms and back. prefers hiding them

piercing(s); https://pin.it/6e2Vjm5I7

natural nails; https://pin.it/9jIWA6WaI

other features; freckled cheeks, nose and shoulders. dimpled smile

outfits

work;

; https://pin.it/3sjlO29X8

; https://pin.it/5BbxmIkWS

; https://pin.it/7xX0SKimB

; https://pin.it/jLlv75DYV

; https://pin.it/2aeCzRUKM

; https://pin.it/SrlXhIqz0

casual;

; https://pin.it/1oRx8s2kv

; https://pin.it/2CPWftfCa

; https://pin.it/1HckY9tEm

; https://pin.it/3wKvYQV2V

; https://pin.it/1zVJnAG0T

; https://pin.it/5xXSLM2Gq

; https://pin.it/kL0TZrZIX

formal;

; https://pin.it/55ahfkSn7

; https://pin.it/XC5XfZK4P

; https://pin.it/29RgESG6A

; https://pin.it/7DBERR2Lw

sleep;

; https://pin.it/6zdsVae2b

; https://pin.it/5wUKeR5Si

; https://pin.it/5hvXw38Tf

; https://pin.it/7MEG5q6oa

Personality

good traits; caring, selfless, honest, gentle, thoughtful, protective

negative traits; flirtatious, introverted, sarcastic, secretive, blunt

interests; curing patients, reading in her spare time, shopping with cameron on weekends, eating alone at lunch, horror books and comics, most thriller movies, her personal space, her cats, painting, practicing ice skating and violin, talking to cuddy after therapy sessions

disinterests; her personal space being invaded, her father, violent patients, greg house (at times), slimy foods, large group events, being unwell

fears; large bodied water (pools, lakes specifically), big dogs, her father

good habits; cleans as she goes, writes in a journal before and after work

bad habits; scratching at her scars, listens to her music on blast

hobbies; reading, painting, writing in journal, cleaing

talents; violin, ice skating, painting

triggers; things being thrown in anger, people yelling in her face

favourites; korean pop, japanese metal, TimTams, horror genre, strawberry milkshakes, cats

non-favourites; dogs, chocolate milkshakes, bananas, spinach, very rich-smelling colognes

relations

father; Robert choi, alive, strained relationship due to abuse, in jail

mother; Lin choi, alive, okay relationship, lives in australia

sister; katie choi, alive, close relationship, lives with their mother

other relatives; a grandmother on both sides of the family, not close with either.

friends; house, chase, cameron, cuddy, wilson, foreman

closer to; cameron, cuddy. prefers to keep a small tight-knit circle

pets; two cats, maine coon named eclipse, orange cat named cupcake

potential love interest(s); chase

living arrangements

born in; Seoul, South Korea

lived in; Sydney, Australia

currently lives in; Princeton, New Jersey

location; an apartment near the hospital

transportation; car, mostly. occasionally walks

lives with; by herself and her two cats, likes the solitude

attended; medical school in sydeny, australia

works at; Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital

occupation; doctor

therapy; every week, every 2nd day. sometimes weekend

health information

mental health; occasional nightmare, overall okay

physical health; works out regularly, fit for her age

dental heath; brushes every morning and night, healthy white and straight

mental illnesses; mild social anxiety, unmedicated but manageable

physical illnesses; none

allergies; sunflower (oil, seed, flower), mild rash, sneeze and itchy throat.

diet; healthy, normal foods. occasional junk food if/when she can afford it.

eyesight; 20/20 vision, no known issues

hearing; can hear pretty well, despite her habits

immune system; strong, rarely gets sick

[snuubbed]

𝘀𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗮 𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆𝗯𝗼𝗻𝗲

❝ I am an enormous wound. An absolute loneliness. I don't want to ask why.  ❞

B A S I C S –

Name: Sasha Honeybone. Nicknames: Honeybee (grandmother). Birthday: April 14, 2002. Pronouns: He/him. Gender/Sex: Cisgender/male. Sexuality: Gay. Occupation: Attendant at Comics Emporium.

P E R S O N A L I T Y —

+ Dedicated, tender-hearted, honest. - Brooding, tactless, cynical. Currently quite closed off. He’s always been on the softer side of things, choosing to be more “cerebral” than outspoken, and has always preferred solo projects to group projects. It’s gotten worse since he moved in with his dad, as he feels as though his whole future’s been ripped away from him. He’s a smiths enjoyer - need i say more?

A R R I V A L — ( JUNE 2024 )

With a mother too busy with work to care for her children and a father who feels as though he's always been more of a parent than his ex-wife, Sasha's been shipped to Aurora Bay to live with his dad, his grandmother, and his pest of a little sister. The first five months he was allowed to mope about it, but recently his father has put his foot down and forced Sasha to get a job at the Comic Emporium — one of a few hundred stores that helped fund the Honeybone name.

E X T R A B I T S —

– Sasha is learning how to play his grandmother's old, out of tune grand piano. It's pretty rough, though he has an ear for it. – He has seen When Harry Met Sally over fifty times. Do NOT ask him about it. He will feign neutrality about his love for that fucking movie every single time, unless he's drunk or it's actually New Year's, in which case he'll be crying in his room alone watching said movie. – His grandmother has four different rabbits: Fluff, Nut, Butter, and Toast. He ends up taking care of them more than he'd like, and they treat him like a god despite his annoyance with them. – Sasha has a unique accent because of his upbringing. It's partially Russian, partially Yorkshire, and partially Americanized due to his father's mom and dad being from California and Leeds respectively.

C O N N E C T I O N S —

Nora Levin: acquaintances in posh-terity. Friends with a silver spoon in common, and soon to be working on a film script together. Paxton Brady: co-workers. Sasha may or may not have a small crush on him, but he's got a crush on every mlm he's ever met, so. Ziggy Kyeon: co-workers. See: Paxton. Also, one of the stars of Sasha's soon-to-be film.

B A C K G R O U N D —

Born to a couple of career-driven achievers, Sasha Honeybone's dream of success was likely genetically embedded into his DNA. His mother, Irina Honeybone (née Izotov) started her path in Russia where she chose to study dance, acting, art - anything that might bring her closer to leaving her country. Eventually, a passion strong enough matched with her innate talent brought Irina to England — the farthest she could manage to run on a student visa. It was here that she found love in a quiet financial man, Graham, who promised the world (and citizenship) in the form of a quick marriage. Of course, she accepted. Their love never bubbled above a simmer but it was love all the same. Irina helped care for the young daughter Graham had from a previous short-lived relationship, and the consummation of their marriage ended with their son, Sasha's, birth. Despite her new motherhood, Irina nigh immediately threw herself back into her work; Graham brought home the money while Irina paved her own path through the United Kingdom theatre circuit, carving out both a name and a very lucrative career for herself. A part-time actor, part-time director, and full-time absent mother: the perfect start to a terrible end. Still, Graham and Irina's marriage persisted. They had lows and highs like any other couple; during one of said highs, they had a second child, Yulia, who was only 11 months younger than her brother. Around this time, Sasha also started showing signs of a weakened lungs. Hospital visits were frequent, and continued through his early childhood years until finding some stability through consistent treatment.

When Graham pushed for a more present mother for their children, Irina brought Sasha to work with her instead of going home to him. It was a compromise Graham accepted with a tight jaw, especially when the change brought out a brand new side to his son: a wide-eyed, curious side that left sparks in his chest and filled their evening dinners with conversation after conversation about mommy's plays. This, Sasha decided at seven years old, was his calling. And it was, almost. The world of theatre brought him to the world of film which was a much more enticing place for a quiet young man like Sasha. He could sit in his room and watch a movie, then re-watch it, then re-watch it again, taking something new from the film each time. It wasn't like sitting through Irina's rehearsals either, where he saw the same scene over and over, sometimes only half-way through because someone forgot their line. Movies were polished and cleverly, painfully crafted to be watched and re-watched without losing their magic. And they were magic. Sasha knew so. He also knew that one day he'd be able to capture that magic himself. In his pre-teens, Sasha got a camcorder for Christmas and immediately started on what would soon be a very expansive (albeit low-quality) body of work. Along with his passion for film, Sasha began to develop a rapidly growing distance from his family. His mother was always at arm's length, but soon his father was as well, pushed away by common teenage thoughts as well as Sasha's increasing need for individuality against the Honeybone name. A family of both generational wealth from the Honeybone side and new money from Irina's West End fame, Sasha and his sisters never wanted for much, which, ironically, left Sasha craving a life of less. He sought out "bad influence" friends, hid his home and lied to friends about how much allowance he really received. Many of his home videos from this time feature a fair amount of fence jumping, trespassing, and stolen cigarettes that a boy with lungs like Sasha's absolutely shouldn't be smoking. Through it all he did manage to keep a decent relationship with his younger sister Yulia, who was more of a pest than anything. (This was also around the time he started to realize that he was more concerned with how good his friend smelled when he sat too close during viewing parties than he was with the pretty girls who began giving him attention — something which he promptly ignored. Forever.)

As he aged (and as he practiced), Sasha grew into his skill: along with the filming itself, editing, sound design, and color grading all became second nature. The 80's and 90's films that line his shelves (and influence his closet) became not just something to talk about, but something to emulate. Something within grasp. With Irina's connections, his father's support, and his entire family's fortune, Sasha's career in film was all but guaranteed. He didn't even bother going to university as he felt so confident he could slip in through the back door and start making movies without it. In his mind, the only thing that stood between Sasha and a movie set was an email or two. Until, of course, the monumental news of his parents' separation shook the Honeybone household for good. Graham, tired of England and seeking time with his aging mother, was moving to America and bringing his two youngest children with him, no matter how much they pleaded, begged, and moped about it (of which Sasha did plenty). So now he's stuck here: no license, no film career, and no friends. AND he's a Smiths enjoyer? Sasha Honeybone truly cannot catch a break.

PENNED BY MIGZ. ( @aurorabayaesthetic )

[contradictory-equivalence]

zup l&zerz. resident b&d&zz here 2 bring my w&nderful prezence here 2 grumblr zince i g&t my n&zty little pr&ngz &n every other z&cial media.

n&mez z&dr&x. the c&&lezt mfing girlb&y y&u ever did meet. i'm preb&n s& keep it in y&ur pants.

i'm a gemz& btw. n&t th&t it sh&uld m&tter.

P&le-pitch with @strigine-historian. i d&n't think y&u need t& &dvertize y&ur rel&ti&nzhipz &nline but their inzecure azz w&nted me t&&. (...<3<>)

Art Fight - Character : [HS] Zadrox

(OOC)

OOC ACCOUNT IS @upward-centrifuge

this is a grumblr blog! block it if you don't wanna see homestuck or unreality or anything of that nature.

This blog is open to asks and DMs

Quirk: all lowercase except for emphasis. A's and O's are replaced with &'s and S's are replaced with Z's. Pretty classic fanquirks but if it's too illegible i can put translations. The font isn't strictly part of it, I just use it cuz it makes his typing quirk easier to read and matches the actual pesterchum/trollian font.

ALSO: shortens words to symbols/numbers when it's convenient and I remember. Most consistently: and -> &, at -> @, to/too -> 2, for -> 4.

Your character can can romance Zadrox if you want, just be of an appropriate age, don't expect her to randomly fall head over heels for you for no reason, and if you do manage to seduce her don't expect her to confine her feelings to one quadrant. Flushed and ash are open. Pitch and pale are technically closed but since their relationship vaccilates AND they're open to being poly so you can still successfully romance them in those quadrants if you're willing to compromise with him and his kisrail.

Character intro (not doin the homestuck format right now. might fix it up later)

Zadrox Oposto (he/she) is a 7 sweep old goldblooded troll trying to make a living for himself on Alternia. Her psionics are on the weaker side (something she's eternally grateful for, cuz obviously she does not wanna get fucking helmed), but she doesn't have the strongest control over them. This results in him being sort of just perpetually ass deep in static electricity, which sort of throws a wrench into the gears of his passion for engineering and inventing.

In theory, Zadrox should be an amazing engineer. She has both the skill and talent, and has spent her whole life preparing herself for a future in the field. However, with the winning combination of his eccentricity, absent-mindedness, and the unfortunate manifestation of his psionics, instead of the wonders he could be creating and dreams of creating, you instead get a thermal hull that runs around the kitchen (yes, like the prank call thing) that bursts into flames if it gets off balance.

Fun facts about him:

- obsessed with contradictions, paradoxes, opposites, oxymorons, etc. Likes to take them and break them. Loves it when something is two opposite things at the same time

- two reasons for his typing quirk: one, he thinks it makes him look like a cool gamer dude. Two, it alludes to the fact that he has a pretty nasally voice.

vaccillates just. constantly all the time. but to her there's a big difference between what she thinks of as "new relationship vacillation" (quadrant confusion, unsynched or one-sided vacillation) vs vacillation that is part of a healthy long term relationship (consistent vacillation, both partners vacillating together or one completely flipping because the other did, possibly quadrant blurring). Relationships in just one quadrant don't really exist for him.

- will add more

Other than that you're gonna have to find out through rp.

[lovelynim]

Congratulations on your milestone!! 🥳🥳🥳 You're so so creative and talented! I love your event so much skdkg

If I'm still on time, (if not, please feel free to ignore this!), could I request Wanderer & traveler of your choice, wheeeere traveler gets just t i r e d of Wanderer's nasty attitude so our traveler has to tickle that attitude out of him? >:)

If this doesn't inspired you, feel free to ignore it! Thank you very much and congratulations agaaaain~ ❤️❤️❤️

AHHH MIA

Thank you so much <3 <3 heheh and, well, your prompt did inspire me to write something. I hope you like it ~ I'm eager to see how this one turns out...

also sorry, i couldn't come up with a name for him so i just called him Scara

“Scara, plea-”

“I don’t want to.”

Aether sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to not lose his temper and snap back at the wanderer at that moment. He still needed his cooperation to reach that luxurious chest. ‘Think of the rewards, Aether, the rewards’, he told himself inside his mind. Maybe a different approach would do it…

“I really need your help, you know? I could end up hurting myself trying to climb that.”

“You can fall off that cliff for all I care.”

Aether jaw dropped in disbelief, shocked by the coldness and stubbornness of his teammate. His eyes twitched as Scara was starting to get at his nerves. The Lesser Lord Kusanali herself asked him to try to tag along with him, to keep him company and all, but this guy was simply impossible.

“You- ugh, can you stop with all this snark?”

The wanderer grinned, noticing how the traveler was already so flustered. “What if I don’t want to stop, huh? What then?” He continued, letting out a small chuckle when he saw Aether’s fists clenching. “You dragged me to this when I said I didn’t want to come, deal wit- AHH!”

Before he could do another sentence, Aether tackled him down to the ground, sitting on top of his legs. Using his arms to try to lift himself, Scara could only catch a glimpse of the traveler cracking his fingers with an angry smile on his face.

“What are you do-AHAH! NoHOHOh!!” 

Aether didn’t bother to answer, taking out all his hands as he mercilessly dug into the boy’s hips. Letting out some embarrassing high pitched laughter, Scara’s arms flailed around, barely able to reach Aether’s hands from where he was.

“AhaHAHAh, s-stohOHOHop!!” He whined through another stream of giggles, arching his back as Aether squeezed his side before going back to his hips.

“You reaaaally need to watch your words, Scara,” Aether muttered, not sure if his words could be heard under the other’s loud cackles, but the annoyance was evident in his voice. The angry, irritated smile remained in his face, making him almost look like some sort of psychotic villain. “People might not like how mean you sound sometimes, you know?”

“E-EnohOHIOugh! AHAhaha, j-just quIHihi- AHAH, q-quit ihihit!” He cried out softly, thrashing his head left and right as he tried to escape from the unbearable touch on his hips.

“Well, that depends,” Aether said, taking a deep sigh as he decided to give the wanderer a break from the ticklish punishment. Sitting back on Scara’s legs and moving his hands away, Aether crossed his arms as he looked down at the boy. “Do you have something to say to me?”

“Y-yes,” the wanderer wheezed, trying to catch his breath.

[klutzyroses]

I have thought of a this for a bit now and I so much hope you will like my idea, like how the mansion residents, above all the writers, will react with a MC who loves to write, especially romantic things ? Thank you Have a wonderful day :D

I hope you're ready for the fluffiness! And I hope you have a wonderful day as well!💖

IkeVamp HCs: Romantic Writer SO

How do they react to an s/o who loves to write romance?

Suitors: Arthur, Dazai, Jean, William

Arthur

The mystery writer very early on noticed the lovely Y/N seemed to have a little hobby she was rather reserved about.

He would somewhat prod at her teasingly about what she was doing when he wasn't around and would always be met with flustered responses of "nothing in particular".

Which he knew was not true. The detective in him has definitely been piqued due to her secrecy, but part of him just wanted to know a bit more about the woman he loves. He just genuinely wants to know.

So, with much observation and detective work, the mystery writer soon uncovers his darling's love of writing.

Writing what? He didn't know. So what else could he do than ask her directly. So he did.

While the girl hesitated at first, she relented and told him she often wrote romantic poetry and short stories in her little notebook. When asked if he could read them, she very timidly handed over her notebook, only asking that he read it in his own time.

And when he does...he is blown away.

Within the first few paragraphs, his heart began to melt at the affabrous literature before his sapphire eyes, speaking tales of passionate love and reverie blossoming from a clearly dreamy and wistful heart. It quite literally leaves him speechless by the time he is done.

When he is able to put it down, he immediately seeks out his tender worded angel and he twirls her once, reveling in her surprised gasp before simply gushing about what a gift she has. He is almost offended she kept this from him. He kisses each blessed finger that had written such divine words, silently hoping she will continue to write and maybe they can work together sometime.

Dazai

Being a writer himself, he was a master at wording and especially had a talent for weaving tales off the top of his head.

And as a writer, he is naturally observant, thus he was keenly aware of his sweetheart holding a little secret passion to herself.

A little passion held in a pretty little notebook kept close to her heart.

He of course was curious enough to ask about it and received a timid and vague answer that it was just a book of "meaningless babble that wouldn't interest him".

Somehow he had trouble believing that.

So it was when he was with her in the library one night that he asked her to read her "meaningless babble" to him. He asks in such a gentle, persuasive tone that the maiden couldn't refuse him. Which led to her being held in his lap while she read a short story she had written most recently.

As he listened to symphony of tender words, soft expressions of undying love and compassion echoing through the voice of his beloved, his heart ached, his golden eyes softened with warmth.

He never knew she was just a gifted amorist, able to spin such beautiful narratives, that could touch the heart so deeply and had he been a more expressive man, he might even been moved to tears.

He is so taken by it that when she finishes, he gently turns her head to meet her in a heartmelting kiss before whispering praise and sweet nothings to her.

It wouldn't be unusual to see the couple collaborate from then on, weaving breathtaking tales of love together.

Jean

When learning to read from his beloved, he noted she often taught him from very sweet and romantic books, centering mostly around poetry and anecdotes of passion and love in all sorts of settings.

He was not the most adept at understanding the concept, but he could feel his heart stir as the beautifully woven words danced forth into the air like a lover's waltz.

Romance is not his forte per se, but he never complains. He figures, this was just her preferred genre and didn't question it. He was just grateful to be taught.

However as he began to learn to write and learn to differentiate handwriting, he started to notice a strong similarity between the handwriting of the books his love read to him and the handwriting of his beloved herself.

He pushes the curiosity away for quite some time, feeling as though he was making assumptions until he couldn't help but voice the question one day whilst she was reading to him.

The response he got was Y/N looking away sheepishly, clearing her throat as she awkwardly admitted that she was the author of all those romance stories and poems, from her vivid, fairytale imagination, transferred to her quill onto paper.

To say the soldier was taken aback is an understatement.

He hadn't guessed that his mademoiselle was a writer at all. But he supposed it made sense in the end.

He wonders now if the amorous content was a window into her own desires and wants, which later leads to him becoming just a little more affectionate towards her. From holding her hand, to cuddling her sweetly, anything to make her feel as loved as possible.

William

This was William. William Shakespeare. If anyone knew about writing scenes of love, whether intense, sweet, passionate, sensual or all of the above, he could do it, seamlessly, without batting an eye.

Which would likely explain why Y/N wouldn't be too much in a hurry to show him her little hobby.

Likely, she feared that it would only pale in comparison to the Bard of Avon's prowess.

So it was almost purely by chance that when he had his love staying in his abode, he had come up behind her to find her deeply absorbed in scribbling something in a notebook, so distracted by it that she didn't even realise he was there.

Taking this opportunity, he reads over her shoulder to see what was taking up her attention.

And to say he was impressed...would be putting it lightly. What fanciful wording! Such poetry!

He could quite literally feel the passion between the characters and the deep love they had for one another.

He never knew his love possessed such a talent for romance, he couldn't help but feel just a little offended she didn't tell him.

To pay her back, he recreates one of the scenes in her writing and surprises her by holding her face in his hands, staring into her luminous eyes as he murmured words of love, much like the male protagonist in her story splaying tender kisses upon her cheek.

The lovely maiden was most flustered indeed.

🌸