#I don’t know if I would count myself as one

[fangdokja]

The cage he’s built for you is so beautiful, you almost forget it’s there.

❤︎ Synopsis. In a love that teeters between devotion and obsession, escape is futile—his jealousy isn’t just possessive, it’s a consuming force that leaves no room for freedom. With each calculated act, he dismantles your world, ensuring you’ll always belong to him, body and soul.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Alhaitham x Reader, Yandere! Diluc x Reader, Yandere! Zhongli x Reader, Yandere! Dainsleif x Reader

♡ Headcanons. Heart's Chains - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 2,801

♡ Alhaitham – The Scholar’s Cage.

“Your freedom is the illusion I designed for you. Do you see it now?”

Alhaitham’s jealousy is a quiet, suffocating force, crafted with precision and intellect. It doesn’t roar or rage, nor does it seek to overpower with brute strength. Instead, it threads through the very seams of your life, a methodical and unrelenting presence that tightens its grip with every passing day. His love is not chaotic—it is controlled, sharpened into something surgical, leaving no room for resistance.

You don’t notice it at first, the way he dismantles your autonomy. It begins with simple suggestions, his calm voice dripping with reason. “Why waste time with them? They don’t understand you.” A polite dismissal of your acquaintances, a small reorganization of your daily routine—all done under the guise of care, of making your life more efficient. Slowly, the world outside his orbit fades into obscurity, replaced by the inescapable reality of him.

Each step is calculated, deliberate, like the turning of pages in his meticulously annotated tomes. Alhaitham doesn’t need to raise his voice or resort to crude displays of anger. His jealousy operates in silken whispers, in arguments so flawlessly logical that to disagree with him feels like an admission of ignorance.

“You waste your time on frivolities,” he states, his tone flat but unyielding. His eyes pierce through you, sharp and unreadable. “Do you truly believe anyone else sees you for who you are? I’ve devoted myself to understanding you, shaping a life where your brilliance can thrive. What have they done?”

And when someone dares to overstep, lingering too long in your presence or speaking to you in tones he deems too familiar, Alhaitham does not act impulsively. No, his retaliation is an art form. The offending individual doesn’t disappear suddenly—that would be too crude, too obvious. Instead, they find their world unraveling.

A missed promotion, an inexplicable reassignment to a far-off land, their life tangled in bureaucratic webs they can’t escape. By the time they realize the Scholar’s hand in their downfall, it’s already too late. You notice their absence, perhaps even question it, but Alhaitham’s explanation is maddeningly irrefutable.

“They were a distraction,” he says simply, his voice devoid of emotion. “You don’t need people like that cluttering your life. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

He’s maddeningly composed, his jealousy cold and unyielding, a stone wall against which your protests shatter like glass. And yet, beneath his calm exterior lies a hunger so all-consuming it feels like an abyss, ready to swallow you whole.

In intimacy, that hunger reveals itself in the way his hands move over you—not hurried, but deliberate, like he’s studying you, mapping every inch of your body with the same precision he applies to his research. His touch is a paradox, both clinical and possessive, as if he’s documenting every reaction, every tremor, every gasp, to remind you that no one else could ever know you this intimately.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice is steady, each word a carefully crafted statement of fact. “Not just your body, but your mind, your soul. Every thought you have—I’ve already claimed it.”

There’s no room for resistance in his embrace. When he takes you, it’s a symphony of control, every movement deliberate, every whisper a reminder of how deeply he owns you. He doesn’t seek to hurt; pain is a crude tool, unworthy of his intellect. Instead, his love is an overwhelming force, designed to erode your defenses until you can no longer imagine a world without him.

And when he looks at you, there’s something terrifying in his gaze—a blend of devotion and dominance that leaves you breathless. You see yourself reflected in his eyes, not as a partner, but as something precious, something he’s spent his life perfecting. And as much as you might wish to escape, a part of you knows the truth.

“You’ll thank me one day,” he says, his voice as steady as ever. “When you finally understand that no one else will ever love you like I do. Your freedom, your independence—they were illusions, distractions. I am your reality now. Do you see it?”

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♡ Diluc – Ember’s Obsession.

“There’s a certain poetry in the way flesh burns. Shall I show you what it means to belong to me?”

Jealousy in Diluc is not a sudden blaze—it’s a simmering ember buried deep within his chest, smoldering until provoked. And when that ember finally ignites, it consumes everything in its path. His rage is a tempest of fire, and his vengeance is exacting, merciless, yet meticulously controlled. To call it passion would be a mistake; this is something darker, primal, and utterly destructive.

The tranquility of the winery is the first thing to vanish when his jealousy peaks. The birds no longer sing, the soft rustling of leaves becomes an oppressive silence, and the air carries the faint, acrid tang of smoke. The vineyards, once a symbol of beauty and life, become the stage for his wrath. The trespasser who dared covet what was his is gone before you even realize it, their existence wiped away as if they never belonged to the world.

When you ask, his eyes burn with an intensity that freezes you in place. There’s no need to raise his voice—his silence is deafening, his actions more eloquent than words. The blood on his gloves isn’t cleaned, the charred remains of their belongings left just close enough for you to see. He wants you to understand the cost of disobedience, of entertaining the thought of anyone but him.

“Why are you trembling?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, like embers crackling in a dying fire. He steps closer, his gloved hand brushing your cheek, a tender gesture at odds with the ferocity in his gaze. “Surely, you knew how this would end. They weren’t blind. They saw you. And I don’t forgive those who covet what’s mine.”

When Diluc kisses you, it’s bruising, his lips pressing against yours with a feral desperation. His hands are hot against your skin, leaving an almost burning sensation in their wake, a reminder of the fire he wields and how easily it could destroy you. He holds you tightly, his grip a cage, as if you might vanish if he let go.

The manor becomes your prison, the towering walls that once promised safety now looming like an inescapable fortress. He replaces the staff with people who would die before they crossed him, their loyalty bought or burned into submission. Your freedom dwindles day by day—no visitors, no letters, no life beyond the world he’s carved for you.

Even in his tenderness, there’s a darkness that pervades. When he pulls you into his arms at night, the weight of his obsession is suffocating. His fingers trace the curve of your throat, his touch almost reverent. His words, however, betray his madness. “If you ever think of running, don’t. Fire purifies everything, even memories. You won’t last without me. And I won’t let you.”

He doesn’t need chains to bind you; his fire does that for him. You feel the heat of his wrath even in his absence, a smothering presence that lingers in every room. The scent of charred wood clings to your senses, a constant reminder of what lies in wait should you ever defy him.

Yet, in the darkness of his obsession, there’s a twisted beauty—a fervent devotion so consuming it becomes poetic in its destruction. Diluc’s love burns, and like moth to flame, you can’t help but stay, even as it threatens to destroy you.

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♡ Zhongli – The Stone Emperor’s Dominion.

“Erosion affects everything… but my love for you will endure until the last star in the cosmos burns out. Whether you want it or not.”

Zhongli’s jealousy is an ancient, unyielding force, as patient and inevitable as the shifting of tectonic plates. It doesn’t erupt like fire or howl like the wind—it seeps into every crevice of your life, an invisible weight that crushes resistance beneath its relentless pressure. His love is not the passionate frenzy of youth but the solemn, eternal claim of an Archon who has witnessed millennia. To him, you are no mere mortal; you are an artifact of immeasurable value, something to be preserved and guarded with the ferocity of a dragon.

The world he creates for you is gilded, opulent, and suffocating. The room he keeps you in is not a prison at first glance—it’s a sanctuary, filled with treasures and comforts that most could only dream of. The air carries the faint scent of incense, rich and intoxicating, lulling you into a false sense of security. But the longer you stay, the more you notice the details: the impenetrable walls, the locks on the doors that click softly but firmly behind you, the way every window seems to frame the same unchanging landscape.

The jewelry he adorns you with is exquisite, every piece a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Gold cuffs around your wrists, delicate yet unyielding; a collar around your neck, encrusted with amber that seems to glow in the light. He drapes you in finery not to celebrate your beauty, but to mark you as his possession. Each piece is a reminder that you belong to him, that his touch lingers on your very skin.

“You are a treasure beyond mortal comprehension,” he murmurs, his voice a rich baritone that reverberates in your chest. His golden eyes, warm and commanding, hold an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “And treasures must be protected. The world would destroy you with its greed. Only I can preserve your perfection.”

When someone dares to approach you with intent that Zhongli deems improper, the earth itself seems to revolt against them. Their screams echo through the mountains, raw and unrelenting, as the ground splits and swallows them whole. He doesn’t act in haste—his punishments are deliberate, poetic in their cruelty. He encases them in stone, their faces frozen in terror, their bodies turned into monuments to his wrath.

He brings you to see them, not out of malice but necessity. His explanation is calm, almost tender, as he gestures to the stone effigies lining the mountainside. “This is what becomes of those who fail to understand their place. Do not mourn them, my love—they were nothing but dust, unworthy of your light.”

In intimacy, Zhongli is an overwhelming force. His touch is unhurried but suffused with a quiet dominance that leaves you breathless. Every gesture, every kiss, is deliberate, as though he’s carving his presence into your very being. His hands glide over your skin like sculptor's tools, firm yet reverent, shaping you into something only he can claim.

“You are mine,” he whispers against your ear, his breath warm and steady. His voice carries the weight of an oath, a declaration that transcends mortal comprehension. “The stars may fall, the earth may crumble, but you will remain at my side. You will see eternity through my eyes.”

Even his affection feels like a trap, his love as unyielding as stone. There is no escape, no corner of the world where his reach cannot find you. He doesn’t need to shackle you with chains—his power, his presence, is enough to bind you to him. His jealousy is not a fire that burns hot and fast but an eternal petrification, turning you into a piece of his world, preserved forever within his grasp.

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♡ Dainsleif – The Eternal Hunter.

“You think you can hide from me? You forget, little one—I was forged in the abyss. There is no shadow I cannot find you in.”

Dainsleif’s jealousy is a force older than time itself, a chilling void that consumes everything in its path. It is not fiery or chaotic but cold and relentless, like the creeping frost that settles over a dying world. His love is not the kind that comforts or soothes—it isolates, suffocates, and ensnares, binding you to him in a cycle of obsession and despair.

You only begin to understand the depth of his control when it’s far too late. Every path you walk, every whispered conversation, every fleeting thought of freedom—it all leads back to him. The world feels smaller with each passing day, the shadows deeper, and his presence inescapable. He is always there, watching, waiting, a hunter biding his time.

When he appears, it’s always when you least expect, stepping from the darkness as though he is the shadow itself. His eyes glow faintly, a piercing luminescence that chills you to the bone. Tonight, he drags behind him the lifeless body of the one who dared to think you could be theirs. Blood drips steadily onto the floor, pooling like spilled ink, staining the silence of the room.

“You thought I wouldn’t know,” he murmurs, his voice low and resonant, carrying the weight of centuries. His expression is calm, unnervingly so, but his eyes burn with quiet fury. “Did you think they could take you from me? That anyone could?” He steps closer, his shadow engulfing yours, his presence as suffocating as it is magnetic. “Not the gods. Not even death itself. You are mine, little one. And nothing can change that.”

Dainsleif does not rage or scream; his fury is measured, deliberate, and terrifyingly methodical. The evidence of his jealousy is etched into the world around you—a ruined village, a bloodstained battlefield, a silence that feels too heavy. He ensures you see it, ensures you know the lengths he will go to preserve his claim on you.

And when his hands touch you, they are impossibly gentle, the contrast as cruel as it is deliberate. He traces the scars he’s left on your skin—some visible, others invisible, etched into the deepest corners of your soul. Each mark is a story, a vow, a declaration of his ownership. His touch lingers, reverent and obsessive, as though you are a relic of his own design.

“You see these marks?” he whispers, his voice a mixture of awe and menace. His fingertips graze the lines on your skin, the memories of his possessive love. “They tell the story of what you are to me. They are the proof of eternity, of something no one else will ever touch.”

There is a madness in his devotion, one born not of fleeting passion but of centuries of suffering and longing. You are his anchor, the one thing that grounds him in a cursed existence, and he clings to you with the desperation of a drowning man. Yet, his love feels like a weight, an unyielding chain that drags you into the abyss alongside him.

“Do you feel it, little one?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your ear as he holds you in an unbreakable embrace. “The weight of eternity? That is my love for you—boundless, inescapable, unending. You cannot run from it, and you cannot escape me. I will follow you through every shadow, every lifetime, until nothing remains but us.”

Even in intimacy, Dainsleif is overwhelming. His touch is both a promise and a warning, every caress laden with a sense of inevitability. He moves with a precision that leaves you trembling, as though every moment is calculated to remind you of his dominance. His kisses are slow but consuming, pulling you under like a tide, his words soft yet chilling as they thread through your mind.

“You can fight me, but it’s useless,” he breathes against your lips, his tone almost tender but laced with quiet menace. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And the moment you tried to run, you sealed your fate.”

In Dainsleif’s arms, you are both cherished and caged, his love a prison of cold eternity. No matter how far you go, no matter how deep you hide, he will always find you, his shadow stretching across the expanse of time itself. You are his, and there is no escape.

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General TAG LIST: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk-blog1

[froggiewrites]

Sickly Sweet

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've got a horrible cold, and Sanji is determined to take care of you. He may be going a bit overboard. Warnings: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Illness Word Count: 1.1k Notes: I'm sick as a dog right now, so I wrote a little something to comfort myself. Not proofread or edited, just words on the page. Hope everyone's having a good Christmas Eve (or Christmas, if it's already day of for you), and I hope none of you are sick like I am!

The doting had been so nice at the start. Your head was pounding, you could barely breathe through your nose, and your throat was so sore you felt like you had swallowed glass. So when your dear sweet Sanji had insisted on taking care of you, you had absolutely no problem with it.

Until now.

“Darling, angel, light of my life, please, just one more sip.” He was holding the cup of soup directly in front of your face, begging you to open your mouth. This was sweet the first time, but now you were halfway through your fourth cup of broth and you felt like you were going to explode.

You manage to mumble through pursed lips, “Sanji, I’m full.”

“Just one more, love, please.”

“Sanji, if I drink any more, I’ll throw up.”

“You won’t throw up, dear.”

“I definitely will. I’m about 80% soup right now. Maybe even 90.”

A slight wrinkle settles on his brow as he pouts. “Darling, you need fluids. It’ll help you recover.”

“I understand that. But there’s only so much room in my body, and we’re full up right now.” Your voice is getting croakier with every word you speak, and you can see Sanji’s eyes filling with even more concern. “Sweetheart, I’ll have more later, I promise. Please just…let me digest for a little bit.”

For a moment you simply stare into each other’s eyes, and you try to emphasize your pout and watery eyes. He folds like a house of cards. “Alright, dear.”

His hands are gentle as he cradles your face, his eyes adoring. You let your eyes close, basking in the love he has for you, before you feel him pull you closer.

You just barely get your hands between your lips, his brushing lightly against your palm.

“Mmm?” He mumbles against your hand in confusion.

“You can’t kiss me! You’ll get sick!”

You’ve never seen him look more devastated in your life. You honestly think he’d be less hurt if you shot him. “I can’t–I–What? No! I can’t kiss you?”

“No! You’ll catch whatever I have!”

“And it will be worth it!”

“I don’t want to get you sick! I don’t want you to feel like this!”

“Darling, not kissing you for however many days this lasts will be far more tortuous than the cold, I assure you.” He leans in again, his expression just begging you to let him press his lips to yours. Are those tears in his eyes?

“Well I’d feel awful getting you sick. And you went twenty-one years without kissing me, I think you can last a few days.” You pull your blanket tighter around you as though to shield yourself from his desperate begging.

“Darling, I didn’t know what I was missing then. Now I can’t live without you for a moment. Please, just one kiss. I probably won’t even get sick.” He falls to his knees, his chin resting on your thigh as he gazes up at you adoringly. “Please, dear. Just one.”

It would be so easy to deny him if you didn’t also desperately want to kiss him. You imagine the comfort of his warm, his arms wrapped around you protectively, his lips against yours. You could really forget how awful you felt, just for a moment. Sanji has a way of making you forget about the rest of the world. But you have to remain strong, for his sake. “Sanji, my love, it’s for your own good.”

He presses his face into your leg, making a pathetic whimpering noise. “My love denies me at my weakest. How cruel.” Despite his words, he nuzzles into your leg when you place a hand on the back of his head. “Would you kiss me if I were sick?”

“You wouldn’t let me.”

His silence speaks volumes.

But then he changes gears.

“But if I get sick from this would you kiss me? Since you’ve already had it?”

“I would.”

He lifts his head a moment, staring at you, before diving for your forgotten cup of soup. Before you can even process what he’s doing, he chugs it, pressing his lips against where yours had rested and purposefully consuming all of the germs you probably put into the cup.

“Sanji, what the hell?”

“Now I’m already infected! I’ll either get sick or I won’t. Kissing you won’t change anything.”

You sigh. That’s not really how this works, but he’s staring at you with such boyish pride for his genius little trick, and you were always going to give in anyway. “Come here, love.”

He actually cries out, “Yay!” like an excited child, before rushing forward to crash your lips together. The kiss is sweet as always, his lips soft and his hands gently caressing your cheeks. When you pull back to breathe, he falls forward, wrapping you in his arms and pressing comically loud smooches all over your face. “I adore you,” he says, with an amount of reverence normally reserved for gods.

“I love you too,” you say with the exasperation that one can only hold for the people they love most. “I’m not taking care of you when you get sick.”

“Yes, you will.” He has the slightest hint of a smug grin on his face before he nuzzles into your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse point. You wonder if he truly understands that beat is only for him.

You can’t hide your smile as it cracks through your faux annoyance. “Yeah, I will. But I’m going to be very smug about it.”

“You can be as smug as you’d like, my dear, as long as you’re with me. You can treat me however you’d like.”

“Don’t say that. What if I wanted to be mean to you?”

“Do you?”

“No, never!” There’s real horror in your tone beneath your cracking voice.

You can feel his lips turn into a fond smile against your skin. “I know, dear. That’s why I can say that to you.”

“I could be evil. People change.”

“Not you, my love.”

“I could be evil! I contain multitudes!”

He laughs quietly, pulling you so you’re pressed against the bed under his comforting weight. “Sure, sure. You could be as evil as you wanted.”

“Right,” you murmur, before a yawn breaks through. Sanji had managed to distract you, but you truly were exhausted fighting off this bug.

“Go to sleep, my love. You need your rest.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I’ll try. If I’m not, I won’t be long, I promise.”

“...Are you going to bring more soup? I don’t think I can handle any more.”

He doesn’t answer, kissing your forehead before slipping his eyes closed, encouraging you to do the same.

He’s definitely going to bring more soup.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[blog-o-meter]

25 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) decides to get her brother’s best friend’s attention and he’s more than willing to give it to her.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, brother’s best friend!nicholas, dominant tease/bratty submissive, slow burn, forbidden romance??, implied age gap but not by much tbh it’s mostly just power dynamic

required listening: 25 by Veruca Salt

word count: 7,742

a/n: ik I try to wait a week between fics but I’m sawriiii I just loved this one too much to not post immediately. I do have another fic in the drafts but honestly I hate it now so I don’t think I’ll post that one. anyway im already planning on continuing this one YUPPPPP 🙂‍↕️ i just love listening to my playlist and writing xoxo lmk if you’re a veruca salt fan

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

I never meant to eavesdrop on my brother’s conversations with him — Nicholas. Their voices, along with the sounds of Call of Duty blasting through the tv speakers, always managed to spill through the Jack and Jill bathroom that bridged our bedrooms. I would catch myself lingering by the bathroom door, my book or phone in hand as a cover, pretending I just happened to be nearby. My brother would crack some joke, and Nicholas’s laugh would come through low and warm, and my skin would prickle at the sound. Or sometimes I’d even hear the salacious stories of Nicholas and his fling of the week. Either way, I listened intently.

Nicholas and my brother have been best friends for years. He just showed up to the house one day and just kept coming back, like what happens whenever you find your best friend for life, like how I did. But my brother and I don’t run in the same circles, not really; he has his friends, and I have mine — and they never mixed, not even at our backyard cookouts where we’d each invite a friend or two. We always found ourselves at opposite corners of the house, and it was probably because they were a little older than us.

As a result, I never bothered, or was too nervous, to exchange more than a few words with Nicholas other than the occasional polite conversation, but he always managed to get under my skin either way. It was like he knew, somehow, like he could see right through me, past all my attempts at being casual or indifferent.

I couldn’t control the way my heart skipped a beat every time Nicholas’s eyes flicked over to me whenever I’d pass by them in the living room or as we passed around plates at the dinner table, especially not when I’d pass by him in the hallway and he’d flash me that all-too-famous smirk. I guess that’s why I eavesdropped on them; it was the only way I got to know him without having to say a word to him.

So, I didn’t know what was so different about that night that I just had to get Nicholas’s attention somehow, even if for just a second. I wasn’t sure if I would’ve bumped into him in the hallway, or even the bathroom, or not, but I still decided to slip into the skimpiest set of pajamas I had — a delicate pair of shorts that barely reached the back of my thighs and a camisole that clung to me like second skin. My mom had told me to never wear it whenever there were people over; it was “too revealing.”

“(Y/N)!” My brother’s voice traveled through the bathroom, shouting over his TV.

Hesitantly, I rolled out of my bed, my sock-covered feet quietly shuffling across the floor over to the bathroom. Before I reached the door to his room, I looked down at myself and suddenly grew shy. Maybe I was trying too hard. Would Nicholas notice? Second guessing my sudden boldness, I carefully hid half my body behind the door frame when I cracked open the door to his room.

My eyes flickered to Nicholas, who was perched on the edge of my brother’s bed, controller in hand, leaning forward slightly as he focused on the screen. He didn’t look over right away, but the second I peeked through the crack of the door, his gaze shifted back and forth between me and the TV, his thumbs hesitating on the controller.

“Yeah?” I asked quietly, trying to sound as casual as possible, one of my feet cricketing against the other. 

My brother barely glanced at me, his eyes glued to the team deathmatch round they were playing. “Do we still have any snacks left in the pantry or did you finish them?”

I hesitated, feeling Nicholas’s eyes on me. His gaze lingered, scanning over what little of me was visible behind the door. His dark brown eyes were unreadable, but there was something in his expression, something curious, that made me feel both exposed and exhilarated.

“Yeah, there’s still some cookies and chips. I'm not a vacuum,” I said finally, my voice softer now and muttering the last part. I rested my cheek against the frame, my gaze flickering between Nicholas, the floor, and my brother.

“Could you bring us some?” My brother asked, his fingers violently attacking the buttons on the controller, the sounds of loud gunshots and footsteps responding to his every button mash. “We’re in the middle of a round.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice even. I pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the bathroom, catching the way Nicholas’s gaze dropped briefly, taking in more of me now that I wasn’t partially hidden.

I ducked back into my room, the air feeling heavier as I padded toward the kitchen. My heart was racing, every nerve in my body alive with the lingering awareness of his gaze. It wasn’t just my brother’s casual request that stuck with me, but the way Nicholas had looked at me — like I wasn’t just his friend’s little sister sneaking glances from behind doors.

In the kitchen, I opened the pantry and pulled out the cookies and chips, my nerves bubbling as I anticipated the moment I’d walk into my brother’s room wearing this outfit. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected — maybe a quick glance and nothing more, but the idea was scintillating either way.

My mom strutted into the kitchen then, still in her work clothes. “I thought I told you not to wear that when people were over,” she smirked knowingly. I had a little bit of a tendency to defy orders.

I glanced over my shoulder, feigning innocence. “It’s hot out,” I shrugged my shoulders as I closed the pantry and scampered past her with snacks in tow.

I returned to my brother’s room with the snacks in hand, pausing at the cracked bathroom door before taking a breath and sheepishly walking in. I stepped fully into the room, my bare legs feeling more exposed than they ever had before. “Here,” I called, keeping my tone neutral, like nothing about this moment felt significant, even though my pulse told a different story.

My brother barely spared me a glance as I set the snacks down in front of them, his attention glued to the screen. Nicholas, on the other hand, wasn’t as discreet. He leaned back slightly, one arm draped over his knee as he finally looked up from the game. His dark brown eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make me feel like every inch of my skin was on display under his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t smirk or tease the way he usually did. My cheeks burned as I shifted on my feet, my fingers brushing against the hem of my shorts, unsure what to do with myself.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Nicholas said finally, his voice cutting through the tension. It was smooth, casual.

I smiled softly, more out of nerves than anything else, and started to retreat toward the door. “Don’t get used to it,” I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder. I cast one last glance at Nicholas. He was still watching me, his head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was suppressing a smirk. It was like he knew exactly what I was doing.

Now, I don’t know why I did it, maybe because I was so flustered that I didn’t notice or maybe I subconsciously knew what I was doing, but I left my bathroom door open just a smidge, enough for the soft light of my room to spill out and shine through the darkness of the bathroom, like a beacon in the night begging to be followed. Maybe it was a dare, or maybe I was just curious to see if he’d take the bait.

I threw myself onto my bed, stomach down, trying to calm my ever-racing heart as I replayed the moment Nicholas’s gaze lingered on me. I couldn’t bite back the smile forming on my lips as I pictured the look in his eye when I walked into the room. It sent a thrill through me. Did I finally manage to pique his interest as much as he piqued mine?

My heartbeat was unrelenting, so I reached for the book on my nightstand, hoping that reading a few pages might calm me. Of course, though, I wasn’t focusing on the pages. How could I? When my older brother’s hot best friend was right on the other side of that door?

Eventually, the sound of video games and laughter died down as the minutes ticked into the late night, replaced by muffled conversation before trailing off into complete silence. The only sound I could hear, now, was the occasional turn of the page and my thumping heartbeat, maybe the imperceptible hum of the lightbulb coming from my bedside lamp.

And on the other side, Nicholas could also hear the faint scratch of a page turning, too. He was lying down in his makeshift bed of blankets on the floor, quietly scrolling on his phone. The screen of his phone cast a faint glow on his face, but his attention wasn’t on the timeline of tweets he had planned on reading through. It was on that tiny crack of light spilling into the dark bathroom, the faintest view of my room on the other side.

He couldn’t sleep. How could he? The tight, little number I was bold enough to wear but still shy enough to hide behind the door frame, the way I glanced at him when I passed through to give them snacks, the subtle sway of my hips as I disappeared back into the bathroom to my room as if I hadn’t worn that number on purpose. And now, the crack in my door was basically daring him to walk through.

I didn’t know it, but it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed me. He always looked forward to seeing me scamper through the kitchen as quickly as possible whenever they took it over for whatever they were doing, and he was always equally curious about what would happen behind my door, especially when he could hear me laughing with my friends or my CD player blasting Veruca Salt.

His friend — my brother — was out cold, snoring like a chainsaw. Nicholas glanced at him, then back at the door, then back at him, then back at the door. It was a bad idea; he knew it. I was off-limits. My brother hadn’t told him that explicitly, but he did express his distaste when Nicholas made an off-handed comment about me some a couple years ago and that was enough to deter him. But tonight, my brother was asleep, while Nicholas and I were still awake.

Nicholas turned his phone off then, quietly pulling the blanket off himself and standing up, padding quietly to the bathroom and closing the door to my brother’s room behind him. He tiptoed toward my door, taking a peek through the crack and hoping that maybe just indulging himself in the image of me would satiate him. But the moment he saw me on my bed — twiddling with the end of a braid or two or many as I laid on my stomach, propped up on my elbows as I read, my legs crossed at the ankles, the pajamas I wore barely covering anything — he knew just looking wouldn’t be enough.

My heart raced when I heard the faint creak of my door, but I didn’t look up right away, choosing to pretend I was so engrossed in my book that I couldn’t be bothered to see what had made the noise. What did make me glance over my shoulder, though, was the light clinking of glass.

I turned my head and saw Nicholas leaning against the doorframe curiously inspecting a nail polish I had left on the dresser that was near the bathroom door, a smirk on his face. That set my heart racing.

“Nicholas,” I spoke quietly as I closed the book in my hands, watching him as he continued to fiddle with the things on my dresser — nail polishes, bracelets, a hairbrush.

Nicholas didn’t say anything at first, just let his dark brown eyes sweep across my dresser one last time before they swept across my room, then finally landed on me and took in the scene — the book in my hands, the way I was sprawled across the bed, the faint flush on my cheeks that I couldn’t seem to shake.

He glanced over his shoulder back toward my brother’s bathroom door, still closed, before looking back at me. “Are you usually up this late?” he said finally, his voice low, like he was afraid of breaking the stillness of the moment.

I turned onto my side, giving him a better view of me in my pajamas. His gaze lingered on my torso, and I bit back a smile. “Sometimes.”

He dropped his arms and stepped in, his movements unhurried as he quietly closed the door behind him and looked around my room. I couldn’t believe it. He was in my room.

“Your brother’s out cold,” he said, almost like an explanation, as if I didn’t already know. He turned his head to look at the Heart poster on my wall, arching his back to stretch, his shirt riding up a little to show off the happy trail adorning his lower abdomen. I just about choked at the sight.

When he looked back at me, he had that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You left your door open.”

“Did I?” I asked quietly, lying back down on my stomach but looking at him over my shoulder.

His smirk deepened, like he didn’t believe me for a second. “Didn’t you?”

My stomach flipped, the challenge in his tone making it impossible to look away, but I had to if I didn’t want him to see the heat rising to my cheeks. So I turned my attention back to my book but the words blurred together. I couldn’t focus, not at all. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

He stepped further into the room until he was at the edge of my bed looking down at me, still smirking. “You don’t sound very convincing.”

I shrugged, letting my fingers trail along the edge of the pages. I decided to give him an out, something that would test his resolve. “My brother’s gonna kill you if he finds out.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before sitting down next to me. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I shifted slightly to face him. “I know,” he whispered as his eyes trailed my bare legs.

He slowly laid down on his side beside me, and it all started with a touch — his hand reaching out to rest on my thigh, his palm hot against my skin. My breath hitched, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let my leg drift closer toward him, the faintest encouragement.

“I should go,” he murmured softly, his fingers brushing up and stopping just short at the hem of my shorts. His eyes flicked up to mine, gazing at me through his abundance of eyelashes.

I couldn’t look away from his dark brown eyes, the way they softened as they met mine, yet held something deeper — something that made my pulse race. I was quiet for a moment, savoring the heat of his hand on my hand, the warmth spreading all over my body. “Yeah, you should,” I whispered, my voice lacking any real conviction.

Neither of us moved.

Nicholas’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just watched me, his gaze flicking to my lips, then back to my eyes. His hand inched higher, stopping just at the edge of my shorts again, as if he were waiting for a signal. And I gave him it, letting my book fall through my fingers and shifting closer toward him.

That was all it took. He leaned in, his hand sliding up my thigh as his lips captured mine in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs. It was slow at first, like he was testing the waters, but it didn’t take long for the tension between us to boil over. Quickly, the kiss deepened. His hands roamed, pulling me closer as I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“Tell me to go,” he murmured against my lips, his breath warm on my skin.

I tugged him closer, “Stay.”

Nicholas’s weight pressed into the mattress as he rolled me over, his hands sliding along the curve of my waist and down to my hips as our legs tangled together. My fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer as the world outside my room melted away. Every shift of his body against mine, every brush of his fingertips against bare skin, ignited a fire I couldn’t ignore.

His lips trailed down to my jaw, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. His breath was warm against my neck, and I arched into him instinctively, feeling his body tense in response.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he obliged, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. My eyes traced the lines of his shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he leaned back down, his delicate chain dangling over me, his hands framing my face like he needed to commit every detail to memory. My own hands wandered, exploring the warmth of his skin, the tension in his back as he pressed closer.

The cool air hit my skin as he slid the strap of my camisole off my shoulder, his lips replacing it with a trail of soft, heated kisses that moved to my collarbone. My heart raced as I looked up at the ceiling of my room, every sense heightened as his hands roamed lower, his touch firm but unhurried.

My breath caught in my throat as Nicholas’s lips continued their slow descent, every kiss igniting sparks along my skin. My hands moved of their own accord, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I arched into his touch. His hand slid under the hem of my camisole, his fingers splaying over my ribs as he paused to look at me, his dark brown eyes asking the silent question.

I nodded, and his lips were back on mine in an instant, the kiss growing more intense, as he bunched the fabric in his palm and pulled it off of me, leaving me bare-chested. He pulled back and drank the sight of me in, his jaw going tight as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against mine.

For a moment, I grew self-conscious, thinking maybe he would pull away completely now that he’s seen me half-naked. Maybe I didn’t measure up to the girls he’s been with. “Is something wrong?” I quietly asked.

Nicholas shook his head almost immediately, his forehead still resting against mine as he let out a shaky breath. His hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks as his dark brown eyes opened to meet mine. They were softer now, but no less intense.

“No, fuck no,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, like he was trying to find the right words and failing. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes locking onto mine. “You’re perfect, (Y/N). That’s the problem.”

The raw honesty in his tone made my breath hitch, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I swallowed hard, my gaze dropping for a moment before flicking back up to him. “Then why did you—?”

“I needed a second,” he interrupted softly, his voice almost strained as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin. “You’re just—you’re making it really hard to be the good guy here.”

His words sent a rush of heat through me, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched his face. “I’m not asking you to be the good guy,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

“You sure?” he murmured against my lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if we do this, there’s no going back. Your brother’s gonna kill me if he finds out, and I don’t—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as he pulled back to look at me again. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

I reached up to frame his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as I held his gaze. “I want this, Nic,” I said softly, my voice steady now despite the chaos in my chest.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure out if I really meant it. Then, with a quiet curse, he groaned quietly, like he was fighting an internal battle, before he leaned down to kiss me again. This time, it wasn’t tentative or testing — it was all-consuming.

I gasped softly into the kiss, my hands gripping his shoulders as he pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine with a heat that made it impossible to think straight. His hands slid down my sides, his touch rougher now, less restrained, like he was done holding himself back.

Nicholas’s lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I couldn’t bite back the quiet moan that escaped me. He groaned in response, his fingers gripping my hips tightly as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Jesus, baby, you’re gonna wake the whole house,” he muttered, his voice rough and muffled against my skin.

I let out a breathless laugh, tugging on his hair to make him look at me. “You’re the one talking so much,” I shot back, my voice barely above a whisper.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. “Oh, is that right?” he said, his tone low and dangerous as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re the one moaning like you don’t give a shit if your brother hears us.”

My cheeks burned, and I glared at him, my hand smacking lightly against his chest. “You’re an asshole,” I muttered, but the smirk at the end of my lips betrayed any conviction I’d intended to convey.

Nicholas caught my wrist gently, grinning and clearly pleased with himself, and pinned it against the pillows above my head, “And you’re a fucking tease,” he whispered, a teasing glint in his eyes. He planted a wet kiss on my lips, murmuring, “Okay, we both stay quiet then, deal?”

I bit my lip, narrowing my eyes at him, the corner of my mouth twitching with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible but dripping with playful defiance.

Nicholas’s grin deepened, and he leaned down, brushing his nose against my own before pulling back completely and resting back on his heels as his fingers trailed down to the waistband of my shorts. His fingers lingered, his touch light but deliberate as his dark brown eyes locked onto mine. His teasing smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, something that made my heart pound harder than I thought possible. He hesitated for just a second, like he needed one last confirmation, and I gave him a small nod, my breath catching in my throat as I lifted my hips slightly.

He exhaled softly, almost like he was steadying himself, before he slid my shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving me completely bare beneath him. The air felt cool against my skin, and I had to fight the instinct to cover myself. Instead, I forced myself to hold his gaze, my cheeks flushed and my heart racing.

Nicholas’s eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every detail to memory. He let out a quiet curse, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on my stomach and leaving lingering kisses near my navel.

My fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as I looked down at him. He rested there for a moment, his breath warm against my skin as he closed his eyes, like he needed a second to process everything.

I let out a soft laugh, the sound trembling slightly as I tugged gently on his hair. “You’re so dramatic,” I teased, my voice light but full of warmth. “Are you sure you’ve seen a girl naked before?”

He shot his head up, his eyebrows flared in surprise, and for a split second, I thought I might’ve caught him off guard. But then his smirk returned, sharper now, and he grabbed both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head as he shifted to cover me completely. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that,” he growled playfully, his voice dropping an octave as his free hand skimmed down my side, his touch light but promising.

I squirmed under him, trying to hide the way his teasing touch was already getting to me. I don’t know what it was about Nicholas that brought out this side of me — teasing, defiant — but I loved it.

“You’re such a—” My words cut off in a gasp as he pressed his hips against mine, the sudden pressure of his sweatpants against my bare self making me lose my train of thought completely.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “What was that, baby?” he murmured, his tone smug. “You were saying something?”

I glared at him, my cheeks burning, and wriggled my wrists under his palm, “Nic, the longer you’re not inside me, the more time you’re giving my brother to wake up.”

Nicholas froze, his dark eyes widening for just a second before narrowing into something almost predatory. The smirk tugging at the corner of his lips turned wicked, and his grip on my wrists tightened slightly as he pressed his forehead against mine. But then, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Fine,” he murmured, his tone dropping even lower, sending a shiver down my spine.

He released my wrists, and I immediately brought my hands to his chest, letting my fingers trail over the defined muscles before sliding them down toward the waistband of his sweatpants. My heart raced, my cheeks burning as I hooked my fingers under the fabric.

Nicholas shifted slightly, propping himself on his elbows as he watched me, his dark eyes hooded with intensity. The faint smirk tugging at his lips remained as I hesitated for a moment, my fingers gripping the waistband of his sweatpants. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and steady, as if he were daring me to go further.

Slowly, deliberately, I tugged the fabric down his hips, the soft material sliding against his skin. His muscles tensed slightly beneath my touch, and I couldn’t help the way my breath hitched as his length slipped out — ready and aching. The tension between us was palpable, the room heavy with anticipation as I pushed his sweatpants lower until they pooled around his knees.

Nicholas’s hands found my hips, his grip firm but not rough as he leaned down to kiss me again, his lips capturing mine in a way that made me forget everything else. His body pressed against mine, the heat of his skin sending a rush of warmth through me as his hands trailed up my sides, fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath my ribs.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, our breaths mingling as we stared at each other, the unspoken tension between us reaching its peak. Nicholas’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes searching mine as if he were asking for permission one last time.

I didn’t bother nodding. Instead, I reached to wrap my hand around his length and guide him in, to which Nicholas responded by burying his head in the crook of my neck and muttering a quiet, “Fuck,” before reaching to replace my hand with his own. “You’re so wet already.”

The air seemed to still, the only sound in the room being the soft rustle of sheets and our breathing — ragged, uneven. Nicholas moved slowly at first, his grip on my hips tightening as he inserted himself into me. I let out a whimper as I felt every inch of him, the way he stretched and filled me, his warmth burning into me like a fire I never wanted to put out.

My hand found its way to his back, my nails digging lightly into his skin as I arched beneath him, a quiet gasp slipping past my lips. “Nic…” His name came out in a breathy whisper, and the sound of it seemed to spur him on. His hips moved, deliberate and measured, and every movement sent shockwaves through me.

“Baby,” he murmured into my neck, his voice strained and breathless. “You feel so fucking good.”

The heat pooling in my stomach grew with every roll of his hips, my body responding to him in a way that felt instinctual, like I had been waiting for this moment all along. His hand slid down to grip my thigh, pulling it higher around his waist as he angled himself deeper, drawing a sharp cry from me that I quickly muffled with my free hand.

“Shh,” he teased softly, his lips brushing against my ear as he chuckled, though his voice was tight with restraint. His breath was warm against my skin as he added, “You don’t want your brother barging in, do you?”

I shot him a glare through my haze of pleasure, but it was useless. Nicholas was in control now, and he knew it. The rhythm of his hips changed, slower but impossibly deeper, making it even harder to stay quiet. I bit down on my lip, my hand reaching to clutch at the sheets as waves of heat rolled through me with every deliberate thrust.

Nicholas shifted slightly, his lips brushing over my jawline before capturing my lips again in a kiss that was just as demanding as the way his body moved against mine. His free hand trailed up my side, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin just below my ribs, making me shiver beneath him. His hand trailed further down, pressing down on my lower abdomen as if he could feel himself moving inside.

The added pressure made me gasp, my head tilting back as pleasure rippled through me, sharp and consuming, and quickly I covered my mouth again. Nicholas groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, and I realized just how loud he was getting. My heart raced, panic and desire tangling together as I reached up and pressed my other hand over his mouth, muffling the next moan that slipped from his lips.

His dark eyes widened in surprise for a split second before narrowing, a flicker of something mischievous and dangerous sparking there. His hips slowed, the deliberate roll of his body against mine making my own breathing hitch. He didn’t protest my hand, though — instead, he leaned into it, his tongue flicking out to trace along my palm teasingly, his eyes locked onto mine as if daring me to keep him quiet.

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was useless. Every movement of his hips, every flick of his tongue against my skin, was breaking me down piece by piece. He shifted slightly, angling deeper, and I bit down hard on my lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape.

I peeled the hand I had over my mouth, “Nic,” I hissed under my breath, my voice shaking as I glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned against my hand, his dark eyes hooded and filled with heat as his hips rolled again, drawing another muffled gasp from me. His free hand slid up my thigh, gripping firmly before pulling my leg higher around his waist, allowing him to press even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and my fingers flexed against his face as I tried to stifle my own sounds.

Nicholas groaned again, louder this time, and I pressed my hand harder against his mouth, shooting him a warning look. “Shh,” I whispered harshly, my voice trembling as I struggled to keep my own composure.

He nodded slightly, his lips brushing against my palm in silent agreement, but the way his hips moved told me he had no intention of slowing down. If anything, his pace quickened, each thrust more precise, more deliberate, as if he were testing just how far he could push me before I completely unraveled.

My hand stayed over his mouth, but I could feel the vibrations of his muffled groans against my skin, each one sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. My free hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging into his skin as my body arched beneath him, helpless to the rhythm he’d set.

The tension between us was unbearable, every movement, every touch pushing me closer to the edge. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as I fought to stay quiet, to stay in control. But Nicholas wasn’t making it easy. The hand he was using to press down on my lower abdomen slipped between us, his fingers brushing against the sensitive spot where our bodies met, and I couldn’t stop the sharp cry that escaped me.

His eyes flicked up to mine, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as they remained muffled against my hand. He pressed his fingers harder, circling with just enough pressure to send me spiraling. My body tensed, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure crashed over me in waves, and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. That’s when he let go of the thigh he had wrapped around his waist and guided his hand over my mouth, pressing down to muffle my sounds.

And now, we were both there, covering the other’s mouth with our hands, trying so hard to fight back our moans. All we could hear was the sounds of skin and our labored breaths blowing through our nostrils.

The room was thick with tension, every sound amplified as we moved together, muffling each other as if the act itself were part of the thrill. Nicholas’s hand covered my mouth firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine as his hips drove deeper, more deliberate. Each thrust sent waves of heat rippling through me, my body trembling as I teetered on the edge of control.

My breaths were shallow, uneven, my free hand clutching at his shoulder as the tension in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. His other hand slid down my thigh, pulling my leg higher around his waist to angle himself deeper, and the sensation was overwhelming. My head tilted back, the cry building in my throat muffled against his palm.

I was close — so close it felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. Nicholas must have sensed it because his pace quickened, his movements more erratic as he chased the edge with me. His lips curved into a smirk against my hand, but the dark intensity in his gaze told me he was just as affected.

When the tension snapped, it was like a dam breaking. My thighs trembled around him, my breaths coming out in sharp, uneven bursts, as I arched beneath him, a wave of pleasure crashing over me so powerful it left me shaking. Nicholas’s hand pressed tighter against my mouth, muffling the sharp cry that escaped me as I clung to him, my nails digging into his back. He groaned in response, his movements faltering as he watched me fall apart beneath him, my hand covering his mouth falling limp over my forehead.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. His hand stayed firmly over my mouth, his other sliding down to hold my hip as his pace grew erratic, desperate.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I realized he was close too. His movements grew rougher, his control unraveling as his own breathing turned ragged. The hand covering my mouth loosened slightly, and I took the opportunity to nip at his finger, earning a low growl from him as he pulled it away.

Nicholas’s eyes snapped to mine, wide with surprise. “What the hell—” he started, but I cut him off with a fierce whisper.

“You better pull out,” I hissed, my voice sharp despite the trembling in my tone.

Nicholas’s jaw tightened as my words registered, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and urgency. His breath hitched, and I could feel the tension radiating off him as he fought for control, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “I’ve got it,” he muttered, his voice strained and low, almost as if he were trying to reassure himself as much as me.

“Nic,” I pressed, my tone firm despite the lingering haze of pleasure coursing through me. My nails raked lightly down his back, urging him to listen, to not lose himself completely.

He nodded, his movements becoming deliberate, careful. His hand shifted to grip my waist tightly, steadying himself as his breathing grew heavier. “I’m not gonna—” His words cut off with a guttural groan, and I felt his body tremble against mine, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

At the last possible moment, Nicholas pulled out with a strangled curse, his hand reaching down to finish himself. His dark eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenched as his release spilled across my stomach, warm and lingering. The sight of him unraveling like that, the raw vulnerability etched into his features, made my chest tighten.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing, his body still hovering above mine as he tried to catch his breath. His head dipped forward, his lips brushing softly against my temple as he whispered, “Are you okay?”

I nodded, my voice catching slightly as I answered, “Yeah, I’m okay.” My hands found his shoulders, grounding both of us as he shifted to sit back on his heels. His gaze softened as it roamed over me, searching for any sign of discomfort or regret.

“I didn’t—” he started, his voice hoarse and unsteady, but I cut him off with a small smile.

“You didn’t,” I reassured him, reaching up to trace the edge of his jaw.

Nicholas exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. It wasn’t rushed or heated like before; it was gentle, filled with a quiet kind of affection that made my heart ache. When he pulled back, his fingers brushed lightly across my stomach, his touch careful and almost apologetic.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmured, his voice soft as he reached over to grab a discarded shirt, maybe mine, from the edge of the bed.

I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching in amusement as I watched him carefully clean me up, his movements surprisingly gentle despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips. When he was done, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my stomach, his lips lingering for just a moment before lying  down beside me, pulling me into his arms without hesitation. His body was warm and solid against mine, his breathing still slightly uneven as his fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder.

The silence that followed was thick but not uncomfortable. Nicholas’s fingers moved gently across my skin, as if he were trying to map every inch of me. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath my ear. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, even as a thousand unspoken thoughts swirled between us.

It felt natural, lying there with him. His hand slipped to my hair, tangling in the strands softly, and I let out a contented sigh. Neither of us said anything for a long time, the stillness interrupted only by the sound of our breaths syncing together.

Nicholas was the one to break the silence, his voice low and husky. “What time is it?”

I blinked, my mind still clouded from everything that had just happened. I tilted my head toward my bedside table, squinting at the digital clock. “Almost three,” I mumbled.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face while tightening the arm he had around me briefly before letting out a resigned sigh. “Your brother’s gonna wake up in a few hours.”

“Exactly,” I muttered, untangling myself from his arms and sitting up, “which is why you need to get out of here.”

Nicholas smirked as he sat up as well, his dark brown eyes watching me closely. “Kicking me out already?” he teased, his voice low and playful. “I’m starting to feel used, baby.”

I rolled my eyes, climbing out of bed and walking past my dirty camisole that was discarded on the floor to reach into my dresser and pull out a clean shirt, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You’re the one that asked me to stay,” he quipped, leaning back on his hands as if he had all the time in the world.

I shot him a warning look, but it only seemed to amuse him further. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I grabbed my shorts from the floor as I walked back over to the bed and tossed them in his direction. “If you’re so eager to hang around, you can help me get dressed. I think that’s the least you can do after fucking your best friend’s sister.”

Nicholas froze for a moment, his smirk faltering as his dark eyes widened slightly at my words. A laugh escaped him, low and incredulous, as he shook his head. “Wow, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed my shorts from where they landed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he beckoned me closer with a playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, princess. Let me help.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I stepped closer, though the flush creeping up my neck betrayed my nonchalance. Nicholas patted his thigh, gesturing for me to stand between his legs. His hands were warm as they slid up my calves to my thighs, holding me steady as he crouched slightly to help me into the shorts.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he guided the fabric up my legs. He tugged the waistband gently, his thumbs brushing against my hips before snapping the shorts into place. His dark eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, the teasing glint softened into something quieter, something that made my heart stutter.

I reached for the clean shirt I’d left on the bed, but Nicholas beat me to it, picking it up with a smirk. “Arms up,” he instructed, his tone mockingly authoritative as he held the shirt open.

Rolling my eyes but unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips, I raised my arms, letting him slip the shirt over my head. His hands brushed against my skin as he adjusted the hem, smoothing it down over my waist. When he leaned back on his hands to admire his handiwork, his smirk returned, but it was softer now.

“There,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Good as new.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, my stomach fluttering. I bent down and reached for Nicholas’s clothes and tossed them to him.

Nicholas caught the bundle of his clothes easily, the smirk on his face growing as he stood to pull his sweatpants back on. I watched as he stuffed his dick into his sweats, my cheeks growing hot as he then slipped into his shirt. The chain around his neck glinted faintly in the dim light as he adjusted it, his dark eyes flicking back to mine.

Nicholas smiled softly, running a hand through his tousled hair as he stepped toward the bathroom door.

I followed him as he reached for the door, keeping my voice low. “Please don’t tell anyone about tonight.”

He turned to face me, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe as his smirk softened into something more genuine. “Relax, baby. Your secret’s safe with me.” The teasing lilt in his voice was gone, replaced by a quiet sincerity that made my chest tighten.

I nodded, swallowing hard as I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “Good.”

He pushed the door open slowly, peeking into the bathroom to make sure it was still quiet on the other side. Just as he stepped through, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk returning in full force. He winked, disappearing into the bathroom with a quiet click of the door.

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door as the reality of everything that had just happened settled over me.

My skin still tingled everywhere he’d touched me, his hands, his lips, the way his voice had dropped when he whispered my name. It all replayed in my head, over and over and over. With a deep breath, I turned back to my bed, doing a horrible job of biting back the smirk on my lips.

I should’ve been panicking — thinking about what my brother would do if he found out, but all I could feel was a heady mix of excitement and disbelief. I had just slept with Nicholas, my brother’s best friend.

[letsgoletsgetit08]

soft hours pt. 2 - christmas

how they would celebrate christmas with you (plus a suprise they have trouble keeping secret)

maknae line

warnings: mdni, christmas fluff, smut

pairings: choi san x f!reader, song mingi x f!reader, jung wooyoung x f!reader, choi jongho x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

author's note: MERRY TEEZMAS! Here's the maknae line, finally! I picture this as slightly aged up members and their significant others, still famous and working in the industry but with solo careers (hence the ability to take actual time off for themselves). But I did try to keep that part vague. I'm not religious but I grew up with Christmas, but feel free to sub in whatever winter holiday tickles your fancy. Once again found myself writing much more for the maknae line but sue me, it's where 2/3 of my bias line lives!

likes, comments, and reblogs always welcome as long as you're not a minor!

Choi San: “Are you sure you want to do this? My family really wouldn’t mind coming to Seoul instead.” San fixed you with a worried look.

“Choi San,” you rolled your eyes, “I promise you, I’m not only happy but excited to see Namhae. It’s where you grew up, it’s important to me. I don’t care if everyone there knows your name, I don’t care if I’ll get dirty glares in the grocery store. As long as you’re with me, everything will be fine. I want to see every part of you and the town you grew up in is part of that.” 

San’s troubled expression softened, his lips curling into a small smile, dimples revealing themselves on his cheeks, “I’m the luckiest man on earth.” He picked you up before you could protest, spinning you in a circle before gently letting your feet meet the ground once again, pulling you into a swift, tender kiss, “I’m going to make it worth it for you, I promise.”

“Spending time with you is always worth it, Sannie.” You kissed his left cheek, unable to hold back any longer, his dimples having tempted you for too long. 

“Stop being so sweet or we’ll never get on the road.” He teased, planting one last kiss to your forehead before gathering your suitcases into his hands and heading outside towards the Uber. There wasn’t a great way to drive there from the city, so you’d be taking a very quick flight, likely spending just as long in the airport as you would on the plane. At least your days in economy seating were over since having started dating San. 

Airports gave you mega anxiety, and you were soon reminded of several reasons you loved your boyfriend so much. The way he could sense your nerves, keeping you close to his side, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, holding onto your ticket and boarding pass for you so you didn’t have to panic every time you thought you misplaced it, speaking softly in your ear to help distract you from your surroundings. 

He guided you in front of him through security, knowing you didn’t like feeling left behind. He was caught up with security for a minute as his bag passed through the sensor. You could see him trying to remain calm, speaking to the workers in a rushed but polite tone and wondered what the hold up was, but as soon as you were about to approach to check in, he was being waved through, an understanding seeming to have been reached. 

“Everything okay?” You asked as he approached.

“All good,” He smiled at you reassuringly, “Just couldn’t figure out what my razor was I guess.”

“Ah, yes, because you definitely wouldn’t be more dangerous with just your bare hands.” You joked.

“Exactly.” He laughed.

The rest of the flight went off without a hitch, and soon you were waiting on the curb outside of the small airport, excitedly waiting for San’s parents to arrive to take you to their house. 

You loved his family, and they were always so warm and welcoming to you. It was so nice to see them in this context, the town they knew so well and loved. 

Once at their house, you got to see something you’d been dying to witness since you met the man, “Byeoli!” San squealed as his cat trotted out and began rubbing on his ankles, purring loudly, “Hi, baby! It’s so good to see you.”

You knelt down beside San, and Byeol approached cautiously, sniffing your finger until finally deciding she approved, rubbing her cheek on your hand. 

“Look at that. My two girls meeting at last.” San beamed at you, “She likes you. But I always knew she had good taste.”

“He has the best taste, isn’t that right, Byeol?” You addressed the cat rather than San. 

After unloading your luggage into San’s childhood bedroom (still decorated the same, much to your amusement), the two of you were sent on a grocery run for some last minute things San’s mom needed for dinner that night. 

San had been right to warn you. No less than ten people in the grocery store recognized him, assessing you in varying degrees of approval, ranging from polite acceptance to obvious, poorly hidden distaste and jealousy. But the latter didn’t hurt your feelings as much as you thought it would, easy to ignore with how proud San looked when he introduced you to them. 

You adored hearing San wax poetic about his memories of his hometown as you drove around, taking an unnecessarily scenic route back home, how his face lit up when he saw that his favorite old ice cream shop was still open, the billboard with his face on it, which he blushed at the sight of, his high school, the park where he had his first kiss, his dad’s taekwondo studio. All of it was so distinctly him, painting the picture of the man with whom you were so deeply in love with as you put images to places you had only heard described to you before. 

“San,” You grabbed his hand as he parked the car back in the driveway, “Thank you for showing me.”

“It’s not much to show,” He shrugged, “But it’s part of me.”

“It means the world to me, baby. You mean the world to me, and this town is part of you. Don’t undersell its value.”

He picked up your hand that was holding his, bringing it to his lips, kissing each knuckle gently, “I don’t think I realized how important it was for you to see it until we were here.” He sighed, “So thank you, jagi.”

“Any time, my love.” You smiled at him, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the look he was giving you, amazed that after all this time, he could still elicit that sensation within you so easily. 

You pulled him into a quick, deep kiss, pulling away before the two of you got lost in it, knowing everyone inside was awaiting your return. 

San's older sister and brother-in-law arrived shortly after and you couldn't stop smiling at how happy you were with these people. You were all but estranged from your own family and before you met San, the holidays were spent either with friends or alone and it never really bothered you too much, but now, experiencing what this was like, it was making you emotional. 

As you sat by San's side on the couch in their living room while everyone got caught up, you felt a tear escape your eye, rolling warm down your cheek.

San caught on immediately as you went to wipe it away, “Hey,” he squeezed your hand, “Everything okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, “Sorry, I just really love your family. You know how mine is…”

“Oh, honey,” San wrapped his arm around you, pulling you securely to his side, “I know. You never had this, huh?” 

You shook your head. 

“Well they're your family now, too, jagi.” He assured you. 

San's sister overheard the last part, “Oh, did you already-” 

San cut her off before she could continue, ignoring the confused look on your face, “Let's do gifts!” 

Later that night, you had assured San you could be quiet when you couldn't take his teasing any longer, but you were having a hard time keeping that promise as his tongue lavished your core with expert precision, clasping a hand over your mouth as he carried you over the edge, other hand clasped tight in his hair, desperately trying to keep your movements small but unable to control your hips bucking against his face as you reached your peak, waves of pleasure rolling over you. 

He pulled back, crawling towards you again, settling in behind you, kissing all over your shoulders and neck, “I will never get tired of that.” He whispered, and you could hear the smile on his voice. 

“I hope that's true, because I sure as hell won't.” You turned to catch him in a lopsided kiss, “Let me help you, too, baby.”

“Jagi,” he kissed you sweetly, pulling away to yawn, but lining his cock up to your entrance nonetheless, “How did I get so lucky?” 

“If you're too tired-”

“Never.”

He started rolling his hips slowly, knowing the exact motion that drove you crazy. You were still coming down from your last orgasm and he built it back quickly. Soon, you were clenching around him and his hips stilled as he followed. You tried to adjust to pull yourself off of him, but he wrapped an arm around you, stopping you, “Mmh, no, just stay. You're so warm.” 

“I-” You chuckled as you heard him already breathing heavy, falling to sleep, “Yeah, okay. Anything for you, baby.” 

You awoke a little while later to the feeling of San hard inside you again, unable to stop from clenching at the feeling, realizing he was awake and was obviously trying to stay still. 

“Go ahead, baby, use me.” You whispered. 

He grunted in acknowledgement, rolling you to your stomach and fucking you slowly and carefully into the mattress, your face graciously buried in the pillow to muffle any noises that may have tried to escape. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were falling apart once again. This time, once you had ridden your orgasms out, San pulled out and allowed you to get up and go to the bathroom. 

When you returned, he was sitting up in bed, a wild look on his face as you climbed in beside him, “Jagiya, I lied earlier at the airport.”

“You what? When?” You were racking your brain for anything he had said that might have been false. 

“It wasn’t my razor that confused security,” he pulled a ring box from under his pillow, “It was this.” He opened it, revealing the ring of your dreams, “I was serious earlier though, when I said you're family now. I already consider myself the luckiest man on earth having you by my side, and I want that to be true. Permanently. Take my name. Join my family. And let's start our own someday. Please, love? Marry me.” 

“Choi San.” You felt tears well up again, “Yes, God, yes. Nothing would make me happier.” 

“Choi Y/N.” He whispered it like a prayer. You were his family now and he was yours. You could hardly sleep in your excitement afterwards, making out with your fiance into the early hours of the morning. 

Song Mingi: The bed dipping with added weight roused you from a deep sleep. Blue early morning light streamed in through the curtains as you blinked open your eyes. 

“Mingi?” Your voice cracked as you sat up, bleary eyed and disoriented, reaching for the bottle of water you kept on your bedside table. 

“Baby!” Mingi’s deep voice rattled your sleepy brain as he pounced on top of the suitcase he had just hefted onto the bed, “Can you help me out real quick?”

“What time is it?” You groaned. 

“7am! Come on, we need to be on the road at 8!” 

“Song Mingi. Once upon a time, you and I bonded over the fact that we're not morning people.” You grumbled as you tossed the comforter aside to assist your goofy boyfriend. 

“I know, that's why I was very brave and got up early to pack for us. There’s coffee on in the kitchen, cutie.” He kissed your temple hastily as you came around to help hold the pieces of the suitcase together for him to zip. 

“Okay, I forgive you- wait, is this all games? Do you really think you can get the guys to play Catan again after what happened last time?” You eyed him skeptically. 

“Wooyoung and Jongho made up a week later!” He defended himself, “You know I've gotta at least try.”

“I know, I know.” You rolled your eyes, “It's your favorite.” 

“No, baby.” He grunted as the zipper finally closed all the way, “You're my favorite.” He tackled you back onto the bed, peppering your face with kisses, ending with a slow, sweet kiss on your lips, “I love you a whole lot, have I said that recently?”

“Hmm.” You pretended to consider it, “I mean, not in the last business day, probably.”

Mingi gasped, “Inconceivable!” He practically shouted in your ear, resuming his attack. 

“You're the silliest goose on the whole pond.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. 

“As long as it's your pond.” He replied, hopping to his feet and pulling you up behind him, not awaiting your reply, “C'mon, go get dressed! I'll go pour you some coffee.” 

“You're acting more odd than normal and I'm going to figure out why.” You mumbled as you trudged over to your dresser, finding it nearly empty, “Wait, Mingi, did you pack for me, too?” You called to him in the kitchen.

“Yeah! I just grabbed everything!” He called back, “I laid you out an outfit, it's on your desk chair.”

You looked over to find a pair of his sweats and one of his oversized t-shirts with your bra and a pair of underwear laid on top. “These are your clothes!” You yelled through a chuckle. 

“You look so cute in my clothes,” He reentered the room, handing you your favorite coffee mug, “Plus, I kinda packed everything I've ever seen you wear.” 

You rolled your eyes as you began changing in front of him. 

“Ugh, baby. That's no fair.” He whined.

“What?” You asked, confused, as you pulled on clean underwear.

“You're so hot and I don't even have time to have sex with you about it.” Mingi pouted, ogling you from his position on the bed. 

You laughed, crossing over to him with only underwear on, “Not with that attitude.” 

Half an hour and three orgasms later, Mingi came up for air from in between your legs, licking his lips like he had just eaten the most delicious meal in the world - he probably would argue he had, if you'd asked him. 

“Jagi,” You gasped, still breathing hard as he kissed up your torso, “We have to get on the road.”

Mingi pouted but didn't protest too much, letting you up to get dressed and pack your toiletries. 

Yunho's lake house had become a yearly tradition for the eight of them, everyone heading there a couple of days after Christmas to stay through New Years. Plus ones were prohibited except for “serious” relationships, which they typically defined as at least engaged. You had thought Mingi might propose on Christmas, but you were even more excited at the thought of it happening on New Years Eve. 

Christmas this year had been lovely. He had an uncanny ability for gift giving, you suspected he kept a running list of every thing you mentioned vaguely wanting throughout the year, and this year was no exception. His mom had the two of you over for Christmas, feeding you far too much and giving you knowing glances like she knew what laid ahead for you in the very near future. You were so grateful with how welcoming she had been since you started dating Mingi, knowing how big of a momma's boy he was, her approval meant everything to you. You would have been happy had he proposed at Christmas, and as much as having his mom's approval meant to you, you absolutely adored the seven other members of his group, considering them to already be like brothers to you, and by how they treated you, you figured they considered you similarly. Truth be told though, you would be thrilled no matter where or when he proposed. 

Road trips were one of your favorite things to do with Mingi. They were always filled with silly made-up car games and singing along to music at the beginning, turning to comfortable silence with his hand on your thigh as he drove, talking intermittently about anything and everything and nothing at all towards the end. Most of all, you loved the uninterrupted time you got just to simply stare at him and take him in. You thought he was the most beautiful person on the planet, every detail of his face and body a work of art in and of itself. 

“...and that's why I don't think you'd ever remember it even if you had been abducted by aliens.” Mingi concluded his thesis as he pulled the car into the driveway of the lake house at last. 

“Hmm.” You considered, “I think we'll just have to agree to disagree on this one, my love.” 

“I'm taking a vote when we go in.” Mingi shot you a challenging look as he got out of the driver's seat, darting around to your door to open it for you before you could do it yourself. 

“Good, I can't wait to win the vote.” You teased him, leaning in for a kiss, gasping as he pulled a fast one on you, leaning in to return it only to turn away and deny you at the last second. 

“Song Mingi!” You chastised him, “Fine. No more kisses ever again since you don't want them.”

“What!” He pouted, rushing back over to you with pleading eyes, taking your empty threat seriously, “Baby, no! Please, forgive me, I'm so sorry, don't deprive me!” 

You snickered at him, “Aw, princess.” You pulled him close, giving him a chaste peck on his pretty lips, “I would shrivel up and die if l couldn't kiss you.” 

“You guys are disgusting, I take it back, no plus ones.” Yunho bullied you from the porch, “Mingi, go ahead and go home.”

“Hey!” Mingi barked, offended by his best friend's words. 

“We missed you, too, Yunho.” You rolled your eyes, strolling over to him as he waited with open arms for a hug. 

“It’s been too long, noona.” Yunho crushed you to his chest. You weren't exactly petite, squarely on the tall side and you could wear Mingi’s jeans pretty easily, filling them out similarly in the ass and thigh region, but he and Yunho still made you feel small in comparison. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” You answered through constricted lungs, “I do have to breathe, though.” 

“My bad.” Yunho chuckled as he released you, “I just have to make sure you know you're my favorite. But don't tell anyone.”

You crossed your heart, “It's our secret, Yuyu.” You winked at him. 

The rest of the night followed in a similar fashion, ending with all of you in the spacious living room, pleasantly buzzed. Wooyoung sat curled in San's lap, relaying a story you all had heard a thousand times but indulged in letting him tell regardless, mostly due to the entertaining way he reenacted it. Seonghwa sat on the floor in front of Hongjoong, building the Star Wars Lego set the latter had gifted him from Christmas as his husband stared at him with an endless depth of adoration in his eyes. Jongho, who was pretty perpetually single by his own choice, sat in front of the fireplace with his guitar, humming and singing quietly. Yeosang leaned onto Yunho's shoulder, letting his boyfriend play with his hair absentmindedly. You hadn't realized the two of them were dating, but you had to admit, it was rather cute. Roommates to lovers, a tale as old as time. You supposed the “engaged at minimum” rule didn't apply to the host himself. 

You felt so at peace, so at home with everyone there, so full of love for all of them. Honored to have been let in to this sacred circle and welcomed with open arms. 

The next few days were spent playing games - including, much to your surprise, an oddly civil game of Catan - or with Wooyoung and Mingi in the kitchen, San, Yunho, and Seonghwa fighting like siblings in the snow, Hongjoong and Jongho writing and singing songs together, you and Yeosang watching movies and discussing the quirks - some endearing, some harder to stomach - of your significant others, the two of whom had known one another since middle school. You were so excited for this to be your family, you could hardly wait for New Years. 

When the night in question finally came around, though you knew it was coming (Wooyoung had barged in as you were getting dressed earlier, making sure your fingernails were painted), Mingi’s proposal still managed to surprise you. 

Right before midnight, champagne flutes passed out, all of you dressed in cocktail formal, excited for an excuse to get dressed up after a week of sweats and pajamas, Mingi tapped his flute with a knife to get everyone's attention, “A toast! To my friends, who have been with me through everything, the ups and downs of being idols and just life in general, and most importantly, who have listened and advised me on my relationship with my beautiful girlfriend. It means the world to me that you all love her so much. I consider us to be family,” he turned to you then, fishing in his pocket, “But I'd really like us to be family officially. If you'll have me, sweetheart. Nothing could make me happier.” He knelt down, opening the ring box with one large hand, showing you the most perfect ring you could have dreamed of. 

“Mingi,” you beamed at him, “Yes, of course, baby. You better fucking marry me, you goose.” 

“As long as I'm your goose.” He rose, removing the ring and guiding it gently onto your ring finger. 

“Always.” You promised. 

“Ten!” Wooyoung began the countdown to midnight. 

“Nine!” The others joined in, yourself and Mingi included, waiting for the clock to strike twelve before you sealed the moment with a kiss. 

“Eight!” You all chanted. “Makes one team!” You added in between, garnering laughter from the group. 

“Seven!”

“Six!” 

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!” 

“Happy New Year!” 

It wasn't your first kiss, obviously, but it might as well have been, the way the butterflies in your abdomen danced at the contact, face going warm as several of the boys wolf whistled at the display. It only served to egg Mingi on, and he swung you down into a deep dip, never breaking your kiss. 

“Okay, okay, ew. Enough. Save it for the wedding.” Jongho pretended to complain from across the circle. 

“Booooo!” Wooyoung shot back at him. 

“Be nice, baby.” San half-heartedly scolded him. 

“He's being rude!” Wooyoung defended himself.

Mingi brought you back to your feet as the bickering escalated in the background, wiggling his eyebrows at you conspiratorially. 

You nodded, grabbing his hand and sneaking away as the other seven continued their nonsense, too absorbed in it to realize the two of you had made like bandits for the bedroom. 

Mingi didn't even scold you for getting distracted by your new ring as you straddled him and rode his cock for the first time as an engaged couple. In fact, you're pretty sure he only fucked you harder for it. 

The two of you eventually collapsed onto the bed in a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs after round three, completely blissed out on the love you had for one another and excited for the future together that awaited you. 

Jung Wooyoung: Sure, introducing your Harry Potter-obsessed boyfriend to the Lord of the Rings trilogy was a calculated risk. They had always been your favorite Christmas break movies and you wanted to share that tradition with Wooyoung. You had predicted he would like them, but what you hadn't been prepared for was just how much he liked them. You would be spending a belated Christmas with his family, postponed a few days due to his older brother's work schedule, so Christmas Eve and Day would be spent just the two of you at your apartment together. 

Little did you know, Wooyoung had been planning. 

The unmistakable noise of clattering pots and pans in the kitchen served as your alarm that morning, followed by a hushed curse under Wooyoung’s breath. You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you dragged your still sleep-laden body out of bed, donning Wooyoung’s discarded sweatshirt on your way into the kitchen. 

“Everything okay, baby?” You asked, your voice still gravelly with sleep. 

Wooyoung jumped at the sound of your voice, clearly deeply concentrated as he stirred the pot on the stove, “Ah! Fuck! You scared me!” 

You chuckled, coming up behind him, wrapping your arms around his sinfully slutty waist, “Sorry, kitten,” You apologized, “I just heard a noise and wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“Dammit.” Wooyoung pouted, “I wanted to wake you up with breakfast, I’m sorry.”

You kissed his cheek, “There’s nothing to apologize for. Want me to go back to bed so you can do your original plan?” 

Wooyoung turned around in your embrace, kissing you on the nose, “No, baby, not unless you want to. It’s almost done and I love your company.”

“Okay, but, um…” You trailed off, hating to ask for something when he was already doing so much, “Nevermind, I’ll do it.”

Wooyoung grabbed your wrist to stop you, “Absolutely not! My baby is not lifting a finger today. What did you need, jagi?”

“I just wanted some coffee.” You smiled at him sheepishly.

“Say less.” Wooyoung beamed at you, planting a swift kiss to your lips before breaking off and moving to make you coffee. 

An hour later, three cups of coffee in, Wooyoung was placing the last pastry on the table after putting a different dish he was preparing for later in the oven. 

“If you want me to die in a food coma, just say so.” You teased him as you sat down to indulge yourself on his delicious-smelling baked goods. 

“No, sweetheart, I just want you to enjoy yourself.” Wooyoung couldn’t contain his smile as he watched your eyes roll back at the first bite of his creation. 

“Baby. No offense but I’m breaking up with you for this danish.” You joked.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped in fake offense, “But wait! That danish can’t get you off!”

You shrugged, “Ah, well. Good thing I have a vibrator.”

Wooyoung stuck his bottom lip out, “You know good and well you like my dick better.”

“Hm…” You pretended to consider his words, “My memory is hazy, maybe I need a refresher before I can answer that completely honestly.”

The Fellowship of the Ring played in the background as Wooyoung fucked you over the back of the couch, but neither of you were paying attention to the movie. 

“Admit it.” Wooyoung growled in your ear, “My cock is the only thing that can truly satisfy you.”

“God. Fuck, yes, Youngie. Your cock is the only thing now please fuck me harder.” You begged, sweat dripping down your brow as your boyfriend pounded into you painstakingly slowly, knowing he was driving you crazy. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Wooyoung obeyed, picking up his pace until the two of you were panting as you were finally able to release. 

The rest of the day passed much the same way, between eating, fucking, watching movies, exchanging gifts, and nodding off in between. Hours past sunset, the two of you were back in the kitchen, lethargic from your day of consuming calories and quickly turning around to burn them in the most hedonistic ways possible, washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Wooyoung paused after he put away the last plate you handed him, “Oh, wait! I forgot! I have one more gift for you!”

“Wooyoung!” You protested, “You got me more than enough!” 

“I really think you’ll want this one, though.” Wooyoung winked at you before darting out of the kitchen only to return a few minutes later, hands behind his back, kneeling down in front of you, revealing the ring box he had grasped in his hands, “Baby, you’ve been nothing but a bright spot since you came into my life. I want to spend the rest of it teasing you, spoiling you, and making you laugh. Will you make me the happiest Hobbit in the whole Shire and please marry me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his silly proposal, “Yes, but try again without the references.”

“Oh, if that was an issue, I’m afraid you’ll hate what I engraved the ring with.” Wooyoung blushed. 

“You didn’t.” You buried your face in your hands, “Good Lord. I should have never introduced you to Tolkien. Yes, Jung Wooyoung. Of course I’ll marry you.” 

“Yeah?” He stood up quickly, opening the ring box to show you the most intricate, most you ring of all time, sure enough, engraved with “one ring to rule them all” on the inside of the band. 

“Yes, honey.” You pulled him in for a kiss before he could fit the ring onto your finger, “I never want anyone else.” 

“I’m the happiest man alive.” Wooyoung’s smile reached from ear to ear. 

“I’m incredibly happy, too.” You returned his smile, “But we are not having a Lord of the Rings themed wedding.”

“Right. Harry Potter themed.” Wooyoung nodded, like this was the only answer. 

“Hell fucking no.” You tickled him, “We can plan later, though. Right now I need to show you my secret cave.” 

“Ooh, is Gollum in there?” 

“Only if you’ve decided to call your dick ‘Gollum’, then I guess so, yes.”

“I prefer to think of it as more of a Smeagol.” Wooyoung took your hand dragging you to the bedroom. 

“Just please don’t try to do the voice.” You pleaded.

He didn't oblige. You were going to marry the fuck out of him anyway. 

Choi Jongho: You could always tell when Jongho was up to something, and this week, the week leading up to Christmas, was turning out to fall directly into that category. A mischievous glint sparkled in your boyfriend’s eye all week. The two of you had been dating for a few years now and you suspected he would propose at some point in the near future, but you honestly had no idea when. The man lived to keep you on your toes. 

He didn’t do it while the two of you celebrated Christmas with your family. 

He didn’t do it while the two of you celebrated Christmas with his family. 

He didn’t do it as the two of you opened your gifts to one another late at night on Christmas Day. 

No. Why would he? He just spent the entirety of both days tricking you into thinking he might do it. He had handed you a conspicuously sized square box wrapped in paper. Earrings. They were beautiful, of course. He knew your taste well. 

He had taken you on a scenic walk, kneeling down at the overlook, only to tie his shoe, laughing at your face, poorly disguised in shock, disappointment, then frustration, all in quick succession. 

He had asked to make a toast at your family’s Christmas dinner. Didn’t propose.

Your boyfriend might be a little evil. 

Christmas with him had always been somewhat like this, with him feeding you false leads about what gifts he was getting you, especially as it got closer to the actual holiday, only to have gotten you something better than what he was alluding to the whole time. On top of everything, of course he was an annoyingly good gift giver. 

It was December 27th and you were nearly at your wit’s end. The two of you were still off work and with everything temporarily back open between holidays, Jongho had planned something incredibly special for the two of you, much to your surprise. You honestly had no clue how he was so damn talented at hiding things from you. Maybe you just weren’t as observant as you thought you were. 

Dinner at a nice restaurant turned into a carriage ride around the park, ending with the two of you slow dancing in a gazebo to a song that he had written just for you. 

“I mean every word, you know.” Jongho whispered as the gravity of his lyrics rushed over you. For as often as he was impish and playful, he was at other times, equally as genuine, vulnerable, and honest with you. It nearly broke your heart every time he shared that side of himself with you. 

“Jongho…” You didn’t know what to say, “You mean so much to me, baby.” 

“And you to me.” He answered, leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

You waited with bated breath, thinking that this might be it, it might be time for him to finally pop the question, but instead, he simply carried on dancing with you. 

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, throat constricting with your frustration. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” Jongho looked at you, concern evident on his face.

“Nothing.” You lied. “Sorry. Today has been wonderful, I just feel like I’m going crazy.” 

“Crazy?” He cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“Yes, Jongho.” The tears fell genuinely now, “It’s probably stupid, I don’t even know if it’s where we’re at, I thought I did, but now I’m confused and I feel stupid for ever thinking it-”

“Thinking, what, baby?” Jongho pushed the hair off of your forehead. 

“All week you’ve been doing little things that I keep misinterpreting as you being about to propose. It’s stupid. I’m probably just delusional.” You sobbed then, pulling away from him. 

“Oh, no, sweetheart.” Jongho pulled you back to his chest, “I’m so sorry. I was just being a problem to mess with you. I never should have gone this far. You’re not crazy, though. I promise.” Jongho kissed your forehead before kneeling in front of you, reaching into his jacket pocket, “I’ve had this for about three months now. It’s just a weird tradition in my group to propose on Christmas so I wanted to make our anniversary different from theirs. I’m so sorry, darling. I want nothing more than to call you my wife. I’ve known I wanted to marry you since our first date. I’ve worked to be the man you deserve every day since then and I never plan on stopping, though I don’t see myself as ever reaching that goal, because you deserve better than I can ever give you. But I never want to stop in my pursuit. If you’re not too terribly mad at me, will you please consider? Marry me, my love.” 

The tears streaming down your face took on a whole different meaning at his words, “I feel so silly.” You sobbed, “But yes. Yes, please, Jongho. I’d be so happy to.”

It took the loud clearing of a passer by’s throat to break the two of you out of your public makeout session, both of you agreeing that your activities should move back inside your apartment. 

The way he took you apart so devotedly, so lovingly, bringing you wave after wave of pleasure on his mouth, his hands, and his gorgeous cock that night made you more sure than ever of your decision to marry him. He kept you on your toes and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[chooppi]

♡ A LONG NIGHT - VINSMOKE SANJI

WARNINGS: fluff, gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 697

it is way past midnight as you’re looking at your boyfriend who is sound asleep. usually, he will always stay up and make sure you fall asleep first, but today was a long day and he could no longer keep his eyes open. if he knew about it, he would probably curse himself in the morning, he wouldn’t want to know that you were laying wide awake with your own thought while he slept comfortably.

his blonde hair is a mess as it’s covering half his face and even through the dark room, you can see his eyelashes resting against his cheeks.

one of his arms is holding you close to him by being wrapped around your waist, making it difficult for you to turn and find a more comfortable position, not wanting to wake him up.

life does become hectic at times, especially when you’re out sailing for a living and meet new people, both good and bad on different islands. having to cook dinner for the entire crew, sanji hasn’t been able to spend as much time with you as he would like.

if it wasn’t this late into the night, you wouldn’t be giving it extra thought, but your mind is wandering away into dangerous territory, overthinking.

the two of you are on the same boat all the time, even if you aren’t always right next to each other, you’re basically always in the same room. you’re always wandering around the islands together and always spend the night together, it isn’t impossible for him to grow tired of you, right?

after years of being crew mates and a couple, it wouldn’t surprise you at this point. there could be others that might be more interesting for him.

you shuffle slightly closer to him and bury your face into his chest, trying to get rid of the nagging thoughts, and feeling you moving in his arms, sanji slowly opens his eyes to find you still being awake.

“darling, are you not sleeping?” he mumbles while stretching slightly. his gaze moves towards you who is now looking back at him, eyes wide by hearing his voice. “can you not sleep?”

you shake your head and hear the sigh escape his lips. “you should’ve woken me up earlier, i could’ve made you something to eat or drink,” sanji whispers while placing one hand onto your cheek, rubbing it gently. “are you worrying about something?”

he kisses your forehead lightly while awaiting your answer. “i just hope we can be together forever,” you admit quietly. “i don’t want to lose you…”

sanji’s eyes widen at the sound of those words leaving your mouth, but he quickly composes himself and pulls you closer. “i don’t want to lose you either, baby. and you won’t lose me, i promise,” he leans his forehead against yours. “i’ll be your private chef for the rest of our lives, you don’t need to worry.”

you can’t help but smile when he says that, and you move as close to him as you possibly can, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “so you like having a private chef? i knew you were just with me for my cooking skills,” he tries to lighten the mood, knowing exactly how to make you feel better.

“don’t get full of yourself,” you roll your eyes at him, but sanji won’t let you say anything else as he finally presses his lips to yours. it’s not harsh, instead it’s soft and gentle while his hand stays resting on your warm cheek. “how can i not be full of myself when i somehow get to be your boyfriend?”

he begins brushing a hand through your hair. “but seriously, don’t doubt my love for you, ever. i’ll keep loving you for the rest of my life, i promise,” sanji whispers as your faces are only mere centimeters away from one another. “let’s try to sleep again, okay? and if you can’t fall asleep i’ll make you a snack and something to drink, okay?”

“that makes me not want to fall asleep.” “if you fall asleep you’ll get breakfast in bed, so shut those pretty eyes and get your beauty sleep.”

[yoru-no-seiiki]

“Lie to me, cheat on me, I don’t care. Just do your job and all’s fair.”

— yandere! rent-a-boyfriend x apathetic! reader

tw/cw: no smut, but this account needs a revive so… reader is gender neutral but i hc them as a dommy mommy. more headcannony than a proper story.

You met him after he managed to con one of your friends at work. Posing as this suave, nice guy, who happened to lack the money to support himself. The one time your friend finally put trust in someone else, that was the time it was completely broken. Turned to ash and bones.

You remember the night your friend came to you, eyes red-rimmed and voice trembling as they recounted the whole ordeal. How he’d slipped into their life so seamlessly, with that charming smile and easy laugh, only to hollow them out from the inside. Every word he’d said was carefully crafted, every gesture perfectly calculated to lure them into a false sense of security. And when they finally realized the truth—when the money was gone and so was he—it wasn’t just their savings he’d taken. It was their ability to trust, to hope, to believe in people again.

And so you decided to take him for yourself.

You remember the look of relief, and then recognition before it settled into confusion with the slight hint of derision.

He was perfect.

“If you managed to fool them, then you’ll do a good job fooling my own parents.”

You needed him. He needed you. It was the perfect agreement. His confidence was alluring as it was powerful. The way he turned heads just by being in the room. And the sex? Simply amazing. I mean, if he managed to make your prude of a friend to buckle then it must’ve counted for something.

Sure, the look in their eyes when you brought him to work one day was horrific. But they’ll get over it you think.

After all, you’d made your choice, and you weren’t about to apologize for it. Maybe it was reckless, maybe even cruel, but there was something about him that kept you hooked. The way he carried himself, all charm and sharp edges, like he knew exactly how far he could push before breaking someone. It wasn’t love, not really, but it was magnetic, intoxicating. Besides, your friend would move on eventually—people always did— it was the natural course of things. You told yourself it wasn’t your responsibility to mend what he’d shattered, even if the shame clawed at you every time their gaze lingered, silent and accusing. You shrugged it off.

But then suddenly he began to act nice? You could feel the gradual loss of his impassivity. How he suddenly became interested in what you were doing, saying and most importantly disinterested in the money you gave him.

“Don’t you get it—? I - I can’t believe I’m even saying this myself - but I love you. I fell for you. And I don’t even know why—“

“Stop.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. A puff of moisture blows through the air as seasons passed and winter has arrived. Frustrated that the one thing you had over him was now seen as no longer valuable. But then realized . . . , “You know what? S’long as it makes the job easier for you.”

With the last smoke from your cigar, you press the tip of it to his nose. Ash, skin and snow collide.

You thought it was better for the both of you. He could have the so called love of his life, and you could spend a bit less trying to keep him tied to you as long as he was useful. However, what you needed from him wasn’t just love, it was strength, not this blubbering piece of mess that kept stuttering the moment you two were left alone.

He was turning weak. Pathetic. Something you didn’t need nor want in a partner.

Too bad he knew you too well. He knew that you were going to leave him behind. He knew that he only had moments to waste before all of this would be over.

So on Christmas Eve, he plans it all out. The meal, the lighting, the music.

He did what he always did best—he made those moments count. His words were sharp, like knives carefully aimed to slice through your resolve, each one designed to remind you why you’d stayed this long. He painted pictures of what you’d lose, of how lonely it would be without him, and how no one else could ever understand you the way he did. His smile was bittersweet, a mask for the desperation lurking underneath.

And it ends with a cheer,

all of this so that he could drug you.

And at last, with a kiss to your lips he mouthed, “Happy Holidays.”

[Author’s Note] Reader definitely comes from a Mafia family of sorts.

[ikeuluvr]

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE || Nishimura Riki

synopsis - surviving months on end without you while he’s touring is the equivalent of torture for bf!ni-ki, but thankfully facetime exists…

idol!ni-ki x reader / established relationship - fluff + teeny bit of angst / warnings: none! / word count: ~1k

part of ikeuluvr’s song series ᵔᴗᵔ — works inspired by songs! requests are open for other songs + anything else you would like to see from me <3

Ni-ki loves the rush of performing more than anything in the world. Standing on stage in dozens of different countries—looking out at the faces of his fans while some of them cheer, some laugh, dance, or even cry. The sound of everyone screaming his name makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. He dreads leaving the stage each night; watching the lights of the crowd slowly disappear as the screens close in front of him, giving him one less thing to look forward to. However, the one thing he knows he can always count on is speaking to you at the end of the night.

As much as Ni-ki adores touring, a small glint of guilt always resides in his heart each time he has to leave you for months at a time. Each goodbye is never easier as you go from having him sitting in front of you to propping up your phone screen at the table with him on a call. The time difference was nothing enjoyable either, the both of you waking up at the crack of dawn or going to sleep obnoxiously late depending on where Ni-ki is to make sure you have a chance to speak to each other that day.

As tonight marks week five out of six of being apart, Ni-ki feels especially restless wishing nothing more than for you to be in his arms as he sleeps his exhaustion off tonight. Once he’s driven back to the hotel, he doesn’t waste any time to say good night to his members before trudging to his room and throwing himself onto the bed. He pulls out his phone and speeds to click your contact to start a FaceTime call. Letting out a sigh, he stares at his tired face on his screen until it’s replaced with yours.

“Hi beautiful,” he hums, a smile plastering on his face as all of the energy he lost suddenly rushes back into his body, “I miss you.”

“Hi Riks, I miss you so much too!” you respond excitedly as you get comfortable on your couch, the sunlight peeking through your curtains while the moonlight peeks through Ni-ki’s, “How was the show tonight? I saw clips on social media, you guys were on fire.”

Ni-ki lets out an endeared chuckle at how adorable you are—the way you always keep track of every performance makes his heart flutter, “It was really really good! I love the Chicago crowd, they’re amazing. They were so loud tonight I could barely hear myself sing even with my monitors in.”

You flash a smile, listening intently as he speaks, his eyes sparkling with each word, “Aww I’m glad, it’s what you guys deserve,” you say, “I wish I could’ve been there. It looked so fun.”

“Yeah… me too,” Ni-ki answered, his tone dropping softly as the pain of missing you starts to hit again, “I keep wanting to look for you in the crowd until I remember you’re not here.”

A frown takes over your face as Ni-ki’s voice gets solemn, your heart slowly breaking at the way his face immediately drops, “Honey… only one more week, right? Only one more week and then we can spend every night cuddling in bed again while I kiss you all over your pretty face,” I grin, trying to cheer him up a little bit.

Ni-ki lets out a laugh as a pink blush covers his cheeks, “I’ll be counting down the week by the minute, don’t worry,” he hums before pausing, a smirk drawn on his face, “Do you think you could drop of of university to start touring with me?”

“Well! No…” you laugh, “Probably not the best idea sweetie, but good question.”

“I’m kidding, I wouldn’t let you do that even if you wanted to,” Ni-ki smiles, “But I really do wish you could be here with me every night. I love my job, but I love you so much more and I just-” he lets out a defeated sigh, “I wish I could bring you along and triple the joy I feel on tour by having you in the crowd each night.” His face falls again, a mix of irritation and heartache quickly filling his voice.

You tilt your head with a pout as Ni-ki’s eyes leave the screen to look somewhere else, the pained look on his face killing you inside, “I know Riki… I wish more than anything I could be with you too. In the future when things are a little different, we’ll travel the world together, hm? I’ll make you my cute little tour guide in every country,” you snicker with a smile, trying to bring him out of his melancholic state.

He lets out a snort at your response, playfully rolling his eyes, “Okay babe, I promise to be your cute and very handsome tour guide in the future,” Ni-ki retorts, letting out a long breath, “Hey love, can you give me a kiss?”

You quirk an eyebrow at his request thinking the jet lag may be getting to him at an exponential level and pause for a second to think of how to respond, “Ummm… I would love to baby, but there’s kind of an obstacle in the way if you haven’t noticed.”

“No, no I know, I’m not stupid I promise,” he chuckles, “But I miss you, I miss you, I really wanna kiss you…”

“And how are you expecting me to do this, Riks?”

“Baby, kiss me thru the phone,” Ni-ki says in a shy whisper, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips making you smile and flush a rosy pink, “Come on… I know you want to.”

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?” you laugh, absolutely smitten with your boyfriend on the other end of the line, “But fine… I’ll kiss you thru the phone babe.”

Ni-ki lets out a giggle as he cheeses a boxy smile, quickly bringing the phone closer to his face and planting a kiss to his phone camera just as excitedly as if it were your actual lips he was kissing. You do the same with a lovesick grin painted on your face, pulling away a few seconds later to see the same adoring smile on Ni-ki’s lips, “We get to do that but for real in 7 days you know…” you remind him with a playful smile.

“Can’t wait baby… see you then.”

masterlist

[girl-next-door-writes]

Golden Hour

Characters: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: On a snow-kissed Christmas Eve, the quiet magic of a museum visit brings unspoken feelings between you and Steve Harrington to light, culminating in a heartfelt confession under twinkling lights.

Word Count: 1321 words

Prompts: Museum. Mutual pining. A hug that lingers.

A/N: This is the final of my Build a Christmas Fics, and a birthday gift to myself. A sweet anon requested it, and after writing it I decided it had to be my Christmas Eve post, so enjoy.

The museum was aglow with warm light, golden and soft, casting long shadows across the gleaming marble floors. Christmas Eve had brought a quiet charm to the usually bustling space, and the twinkle of fairy lights strung along the banisters only added to the enchantment. Outside, snow fell steadily, blanketing the city in a layer of pristine white. Inside, you wandered the halls, your hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat, your breath still thawing from the cold.

Steve Harrington was a few steps behind you, his gaze less on the exhibits and more on you. He wasn’t subtle about it—he rarely was when it came to his feelings. But you’d managed to ignore it for months, chalking up his lingering looks and sweet gestures to Steve just being Steve. Today, though, something felt different. There was a charged warmth between you, one that even the vast, echoing halls of the museum couldn’t dissipate.

“This place is nice,” Steve said, finally breaking the comfortable silence as you entered the Impressionist wing. His voice was soft, reverent even, as if afraid to disturb the peace.

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling at him. “Told you it would be. Thanks for agreeing to come.”

“Yeah, well, it beats sitting at home with a TV dinner,” he teased, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You frowned, catching the hint of melancholy in his tone. Christmas Eve had a way of amplifying loneliness, and you knew Steve’s family wasn’t exactly the “let’s gather around the tree” type. “You’re not spending it alone,” you said firmly. “And this place has paintings, history, charm… what’s not to love? I mean, I know you have to put up with me…”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart stutter. “You say that like it’s a bad thing to hang out with you.”

You laughed, shaking your head and bumping your shoulder against his arm. “Come on.”

Steve didn’t reply, but his gaze softened, lingering on you a moment longer than necessary before he turned his attention to the nearest painting.

The museum was nearly empty, save for a handful of other visitors and a few staff members. It made the experience feel more intimate, as if the grand halls and priceless artwork existed solely for the two of you. You wandered from gallery to gallery, pausing every so often to admire a particular piece or read the accompanying placard. Steve trailed beside you, his presence steady and warm, even in the cavernous space.

In the Renaissance wing, you stopped in front of a painting of a winter scene. It depicted a bustling village square, with townsfolk ice skating and children throwing snowballs. The colors were rich, the scene alive with movement and joy.

“That one’s nice,” Steve said, standing close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.

“It is,” you agreed, your voice softer now. “Makes me wish we had more days like that.”

“Like what?”

“Simple ones,” you said, gesturing toward the painting. “Skating on a frozen pond, building snowmen, spending time with people you care about. No chaos, no stress. Just… peace.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced at him, you found him looking at you again.

“Sounds nice,” he said finally, his voice low. “You make it sound really nice.”

Your stomach flipped, but you pushed the feeling aside, turning back to the painting. “It’s just a painting, Steve. Don’t read too much into it.”

He chuckled softly. “Too late.”

The hours passed quickly, the two of you slipping into an easy rhythm. You found yourself relaxing, the weight of the season—and everything left unsaid between you and Steve—falling away as you shared quiet moments and exchanged lighthearted banter. The museum’s festive decorations added to the atmosphere, each twinkling light and garland reminding you that it was, after all, Christmas Eve.

Eventually, you found yourselves in the sculpture garden, an open-air courtyard in the center of the museum. Snow drifted down from the sky, the flakes catching in your hair and on Steve’s coat. The garden was lit by warm golden lights, and the sculptures cast long, intricate shadows on the snow-covered ground. It was breathtaking, the kind of scene you’d expect to find in a holiday card.

“This is amazing,” you said, spinning slowly to take it all in. Your breath formed little puffs in the cold air, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “It’s like a dream.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, though his voice was distracted. When you turned to look at him, you found him watching you again, his expression unreadable.

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze. “What?”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing. Just… you look happy.”

“I am,” you admitted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this… light.”

“Good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You deserve that.”

The air between you shifted then, growing heavier but not uncomfortable. It was as if the snow, the lights, and the golden glow of the courtyard had wrapped around the two of you, drawing you closer together. Steve stepped forward, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his breath visible in the cold.

“Hey,” he said softly, his gaze meeting yours. “I… uh… I’ve been meaning to say something.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, glancing down at the snow before looking back at you. “I know I’m not always the best at this stuff, but I just… I wanted you to know that I… that you mean a lot to me. More than I think you realize.”

You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. “Steve…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, his cheeks flushing. “I just… I needed to tell you. Because being here with you, it’s the best Christmas I’ve had in… well, maybe ever.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears. Then, without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for half a second before hugging you back, his hold warm and firm, as if he was afraid to let go.

“You’re such an idiot,” you murmured against his shoulder, though your tone was affectionate.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled. “But you love me anyway.”

You laughed softly, pulling back just enough to look at him. His hands lingered on your arms, his touch gentle despite the strength behind it. The golden lights reflected in his eyes, and you felt yourself falling for him all over again.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

Steve’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“Is this… is this okay?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, your gloved hands cupping his face as you close the gap between the two of you.

His lips met yours, soft and warm, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. The snow, the lights, the sculptures—everything faded until there was only Steve, his kiss gentle but full of unspoken emotion. When he pulled back, his gaze searched yours, his expression equal parts hopeful and nervous.

His smile was radiant, and as he saw nothing but adoration in your eyes, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you close as the snow continued to fall around you. In that moment, wrapped in his warmth and the golden glow of the courtyard, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And as Christmas Eve gave way to Christmas morning, you couldn’t help but think that this—Steve, the snow, the kiss that had left your heart racing—was the best gift you could have ever asked for.

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Laungue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?—To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years, to be honest, she had me broader line obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching place and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history with someone—sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust, that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked, fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten, and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket, and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor. I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf, but then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I declare, bending down—Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking—You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Were did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave—he’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get his back; This man—the love of my life. There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bone it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. “Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour is interrupted when my mom speaks. “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone—How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence—and it wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through our families, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Dissasoiating—the word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost. All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandler, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day; what a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bounding to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earth quack, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply—they appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I can check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remakes, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filter out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch. I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own—and maybe I speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise. We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulder to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lip and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor. I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob, “Oh Bee—” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mourful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb of my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[12raccoonsinadress]

Harvey smut !! I don’t have a plot have a idea for it buuut if could give it some plot that leads into smut

Fem!reader

Stress Is Bad For Your Health: Harvey x Fem!Reader (Smut)

Hope everyone is doing well ~ 💚

Art Cred: @mimipippin

Word Count: 4,314

Third POV

You somehow always find yourself here after a long day. You sit at the bar, never drinking much, but trying to soak in some of the relaxed ambience of the saloon, hoping it'll somehow melt off some of the stress. You didn't assume being a farmer would be easy, but that wasn't it. It was being a farmer, helping the community, rebuilding the community center, mining, fighting off beasts. Really the list went on and on. It was overwhelming. You sipped your drink.

As you lowered your mug you could see the familiar green coat in your peripherals as you were joined at the bar.

"Hard day?"

You looked over now. Harvey always had this cute sort of charm to him in your opinion. Like he was just a little bit nervous to be around you. You sighed, running a hand down your face.

"Clint wanted some iron samples from the mine today. I don't think I've ever seen that many bats in my life."

His expression became one that was more concerned.

"Are you hurt at all?"

"No, I'm alright. Just stressed I guess."

You said, sipping your drink.

Harvey didn't seem convinced, watching you as you did.

"Stress can be bad for your health, Y/n. It impacts your immune system and makes it easier to contract illness. Not to mention the long term affects"

"I know, I know. Don't worry about me, Harvey. I'll be fine."

"Have you tried anything to relieve the stress?"

"I tried a few things. None of them really stuck."

Which was true. No matter what you tried, nothing really helped you relax, even this. Harvey hummed a bit, trying to think for a moment. He wanted to help you, the same way you've done so much to help the community.

"What have you tried?"

"I dunno, yoga, meditating, going to the bath house. And this."

"Well, I can say looking for relief at the bottom of a bottle won't do you much good."

You caught his quick glance towards Pam, who sat across the bar on her third mug of beer. You had no intentions of becoming a drunk, but you could see why that'd be a concern for him.

"I'm not. Trust me, Harvey, I have no interest in drinking myself stupid."

He seemed to relax a bit at that, though still thinking on your behalf.

"Surely there's something that'll help you relax."

You shrugged. You were used to it, not that that was a good thing. His face went a bit red as a thought dawned on him.

Both of you were painfully aware of the tension you had, but it was something neither of you could possibly find a way to address without making things weird. And now, he was considering breaching that barrier between the comfortable tension where no one needed to say anything, and the certainty that you had feelings for each other but all the unknown that comes with that.

"I apologize if this is an invasive question, but have you considered, uh, finding someone to assist you with your stress relief."

You looked at him for a moment, puzzled, like you might not have been following what he said. He continued quickly, more flustered now.

"I just mean, in the sense of, suggesting it as another option that may help you. Plenty of people seek intimacy as a form of stress relief or regulation."

You blushed now too. You hadn't considered getting the stressed fucked out of you, but you also weren't really the one night stand type of person. And with how small Pelican Town was, you didn't think sleeping around would be the best idea anyway. You looked at Harvey, who looked nervous enough to fall off his bar stool. You decided to try and lighten the mood. Or maybe just tease him. Either would be ideal.

"Is this an offer, doctor?"

He blushed harder if that was at all possible. He stammered out quickly.

"I- Well, I wouldn't- Not necessarily."

You raised a brow, an amused smile creeping onto your face. You sort of liked that idea, letting Harvey try and help you relieve your stress.

"Well, if I were to try this method of stress relief, who better to put myself into the hands of than the trusted town doctor?"

You smiled, leaning on the counter and tipping your head. He took a moment, analyzing all the thousands of ways this could be wrong versus how incredibly beautiful he thought you were and how he wouldn't want to give you off to someone else for this. He was looking away as he spoke, too nervous to look at you.

"If.. you believe it'd be in your best interest, I don't see any issue with.. ah, assisting you with your stress problems."

You put the money for your drink down on the bar and extended a hand to him.

"Shall we then?"

"Now?"

"I don't see why not. As long as you don't bite as much as the bats tried to."

You winked. Despite being mildly concerned about that comment, he did take your hand. You left together, making the walk out to the farm. The walk was quiet. He was thinking about all the ways this could go. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint you, especially when this was, or so he kept telling himself, for your health. He wondered if this would effect his chances with you, in a positive or negative way. On one hand, it was an opportunity to get closer to one another on an emotional and physical level, but on the other, to skip over so many of the usually relationship steps and get right to sex wasn't the kind of thing that had a good track record of leading to long term partnerships. He didn't want this to be a one night stand or some kind of friends with benefits thing. He wanted to care for you, cherish you, hold you in his arms after a long day at work and kiss your forehead before blissfully drifting off to sleep. He wanted to see you sleepily stumble from the bedroom in the morning and join him for coffee in the kitchen before you both began your day. He wanted to take you somewhere lovely on some sunny day, take your hands in his, and give you a mermaid pendant. He wanted to be the only person you'd come to for stress relief.

Soon you both arrived at the farm. You opened the front door, going inside and kicking off your boots. He followed suit, taking his shoes off at the door. You turned to him.

"You alright if we head to my room?"

Yes, the plan was to have sex, but you still felt the need to ease him into this. He was usually nervous, so you'd imagine now being no different. He nodded. So, while still holding his hand, you led him back to your bedroom. It wasn't anything too fancy or special. Truthfully, aside from sleeping you didn't spend much time there. You turned on a small lamp near the bed, which illuminated the room with a dim, warm, yellowish glow. You sat on the edge of the bed, having now let go of Harvey's hand.

"Is there any particular way you'd like to proceed?"

He asked. He was really a bit lost on what you wanted from him. He wanted to do good for you. You pat the bed beside you, urging him to also sit.

"I figured we could just feel it out as we go."

He sat beside you, though wasn't looking at you just yet. He was steeling his nerves. You admired the doctor for a moment. Gently, you reached over to cup his cheek and turn his face towards you. He looked at you now, waiting for you to make the next move. You figured you'd be leading this for the most part, but were surprised when he reached for you, placing a hand on the small of your back, simply touching you. He was cute. You leaned in, kissing him softly. It didn't take him more than a moment to adjust and return the gesture. As you suspected, he didn't fight for control, though he didn't fully surrender to you either, doing fairly well at matching you. His hand wandered down, resting on your hip as you deepened the kiss. From his cheek, you trailed your hand down his chest. You'd imagined what he may look like beneath the button up and the jacket. So many layers. Left too much to the imagination. You began your attempt to push off his jacket. He pulled back slightly.

"Allow me. This is for you after all. It wouldn't be right for me to make you do all the work."

His voice was slightly hushed. You blushed hard at that. It was a new side of him. Still caring, yes, but it was more... sure. He took off his jacket, setting it on the foot of the bed. You watched as he loosened his tie, sighing a bit as he did. You were practically in awe. He looked back at you, looking you over a bit.

"If... we are to continue this direction, would you like some assistance undressing, y/n?"

You nodded, maybe a little too quickly. The idea of Harvey undressing you was just too good to pass up. You'd love to feel what those precise doctor's hands felt like brushing against your skin. He moved to be standing in front of you, slipping his hands under your shirt. He wasn't much of a tease, taking it off of you gently but with little ceremony. He set your shirt nicely off to the side before looking at you. There was a bit of a glaze over his eyes. You could only describe it as a look of want. Need.

"Will you be taking off your shirt as well, doctor?"

You teased, breaking him out of his little daze. He nodded, pulling his tie off fully.

"Yes, of course."

He went to work unbuttoning his shirt, looking down as he did. You watched it slowly open up, discarding your bra while you did. You weren't sure what exactly you expected him to look like, but you felt a soft smile creep onto your face. He was him. There was no secret six pack, he didn't look thinner or bigger than he did normally. It almost felt like you knew this is what he was going to look like, and you liked that. He still felt like himself and that was who you loved.

Once he'd set his shirt off to the side, he looked back at you. He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. He leaned down, speaking softly.

"Could you raise your hips for me? It will be easier for me to help you undress if you do."

You did, biting the inside of your lip just a little bit. His hands were gentle, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down to the point where you could just kick them off. He seemed to contemplate going and grabbing them to put with the rest of the clothing, but decided to redirect his attention to you. You, and how absolutely stunning you were sitting before him, mostly naked. He swallowed hard.

"How... exactly would you like me to, ah, assist with your stress problems?"

He knew he had a few ideas on what he'd like to do for you and what he'd like to do to you, but now was about you and what you wanted. You thought for a moment.

"Well, doctor-"

"Harvey."

He corrected you, much to your surprise. He blushed as he explained himself.

"Doctor is what my patients call me. People that only know me professionally, not like this. If we continue.. I'd prefer you use my name."

Your heart melted a little bit.

"Of course."

You continued, correcting yourself this time, using a softer tone as opposed to the teasing one you had intended on using.

"Well, Harvey, I think what would help me destress the most would be seeing the rest of you and deciding from there."

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you saw his glasses fog up, just a little bit. He unbuckled his belt, looking down as he did. It seemed to be how he avoided looking at you. He set his belt aside, soon followed by his pants. You looked him over with almost a hungry sort of expression. You couldn't find the words to describe how you wanted this soft spoken, nervous man to carnally destroy you.

He sat beside you now. You put a hand on his thigh, leaning closer to him. He looked at you, a softness in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. Regardless, you kissed him. He didn't hesitate in kissing you back, wrapping an arm back around you, placing a firm hand on your hip, pulling you closer.

He deepened the kiss this time, getting more excited than nervous now. You liked that. You wanted him to take more initiative with this. You let him lead, almost curious how far this bold streak would take him. He broke the kiss, mostly to catch his breath. You spoke, out of breath.

"I want you on top of me, Harvey."

It wouldn't relieve much stress if you had to do all the work. His face flushed red, and he took a moment to find his voice, nodding first.

"I can do that. Would you like to lay down then?"

You gave him one more peck on the lips before moving to lay back comfortably in your bed. You sprawled yourself out in the most "casual-sexy" way you could manage without putting too much effort in, mostly to tease him. He moved to hold himself up over you, looking down at you.

"If this is the way you'd like to proceed, I should ask if you have the proper... protection."

Right. You almost forgot about that. You couldn't actually think of a reason you would have bought condoms recently, considering your dry spell. It's not like you'd been expecting this tonight. You thought for a moment.

"Does the clinic have plan B?"

He went a bit wide eyed at the implications of that.

"W-we do, but are you sure you want to depend on that?"

You half shrugged.

"I'm alright with it if you are."

He weighed his options for a moment. On one hand, it was risky for multiple reasons, he knew that, but on the other hand, you looked so incredibly enticing beneath him and here you were, essentially asking him to fill you with himself. You were getting inside his head and fogging his better judgement. He nodded.

"Only if you promise to come to me if anything happens afterwards."

Whether that be side effects of the medication or otherwise, he wanted you healthy and taken care of.

You smiled, pulling him down to kiss you. He was so sweet. It's why you think you were so okay with all of this. It was Harvey. He'd never hurt you, he'd always treat you so preciously. While still supporting himself with one hand, his other moved to your waist, moving up and down aimlessly. You let your hands run down his chest, feeling him up a little. A little more curiously, you let one hand wander down further towards his boxers. You smiled slightly against his lips as his breath hitched. You were glad to know you got him excited like this.

He broke the kiss, looking down at you with lidded eyes, a needy expression. It definitely did something for you. His gaze trailed down, as far as it could from his current position.

"May I?"

He asked, a slight roughness to his voice you'd never heard before. It shot through your body and straight between your legs. You nodded, not even completely sure what he was asking to do to you. Then again, you'd let him do just about anything to you as long as he kept looking at you like that.

His hand moved down, fingertips slipping into the front of your panties. You bit your lip, anticipating his touch. He started slowly, brushing against your clit with his middle finger, rubbing at an almost teasing pace. Slow circles one direction, then the other, he'd pause, just for a moment, before pressing a little harder than before and rubbing up and down, a little faster. You started to squirm beneath him, which seemed to be what he wanted as he smiled, ever so slightly.

"I suppose I should ask."

He started, not relenting on his touches.

"If I were to get you to orgasm like this, clitorally that is, it would be a fairly satisfying, but short lived experience. If I were to bring you to a vaginal orgasm, it would be longer lasting, and more intense. However, if you were to finish this way first, it would ideally let your body relax, as well as produce enough slickness to make a vaginal orgasm much easier to achieve."

You gave him a pleading expression, wanting him to get to the point. He seemed to understand.

"All of that to say, Y/n, would you like to experience both tonight, or would you prefer we get to the good part now?"

With the fact that he had continued gently torturing your clit through all of that, you truthfully gathered very little of what he said. What you did gather, was he wanted to get you off, and then fuck you into getting off again, which you weren't necessarily against at the moment. You whined softly as you responded.

"Do whatever you want to me as long as you please stop teasing."

He smiled some at that, though blushing.

"Anything you say, dear."

He said softly, beginning to move a little faster with his hand, though not so fast as to be uncomfortable. You were going to have to ask him where he learned how to do this, because fuck was he good at it. He leaned down, kissing your lips. Perfectly timed, as you arched your back, pressing yourself into his hand, moaning into his lips as he worked you through it, slowing until you relaxed beneath him. He pulled away, letting you catch your breath. He moved back, working on getting your now wet panties off and put to the side. He admired you laying there, flushed red, panting, glistening. A beautiful sight, all for him.

As you came down off your high, you looked over at him. He was hesitating slightly, pursing his lips, sort of messed with the edge of his boxers.

"Something wrong?"

You asked, catching his attention.

"No, nothing is wrong. Apologies, I was just a little distracted."

You weren't completely sure you believed that. You didn't have much time to look into it more though, because you were promptly distracted by him pulling his boxers off. You felt a slight chill wash over your body, mostly in anticipation. It'd been a minute since you'd had anyone, or anything really, inside of you like this. He wasn't an intimidating size by any means though he might have been slightly girthier than you would have said you were used to. You could imagine how good he'd feel filling you up, how nicely he'd stretch you. Thankfully, you didn't have to just imagine for long.

He set his boxers aside, adjusting his glasses slightly. He moved his hand back between your legs, pushing a finger in carefully. You bit your lips as he rocked it inside of you for a moment before going and adding a second. He almost looked lost in thought, staring down at his hand between your legs, watching his fingers disappear inside of you with such ease. Soon, he added a third finger and you started to get impatient. You didn't want to wait any longer. With the hand not prepping you, he gently rubbed your thigh.

It was tempting for him to continue like this. He wanted to see you there, in pure bliss, as much as he could tonight. He didn't know if he'd get you like this again. Tonight wasn't about his desires though, it was about you and getting you to relax. He pulled his fingers out, adjusting so he could spread your legs a little more and place himself in between them. You could feel him pressed against you.

"Are you ready?"

He asked in a gentle tone. You nodded quickly, too eager for him to fill you up. He took a deep breath, adjusting, and slowly starting to press into you. You let your head fall back, eyes closing. You let yourself get lost in the feeling, focusing on how he felt as he started to push inside of you. At the same time, you felt his hand grab yours, making an attempt to lace your fingers with his. You held onto him. He was so sweet, even like this. He stopped. You looked up at him now, seeing that his own eyes were closed. He was taking a moment to relish in the feeling of you around him. Warm, soft, and so incredibly good. His chest rose and fell like he had just finished a marathon. It was a sight to behold. When his eyes opened, he looked down at you, gently squeezing your hand.

"Still alright?"

He asked, out of breath already. You nodded. He nodded in return. He leaned down slightly, bringing your hand up to him so he could kiss your knuckles. He places a few, soft kisses there. It almost distracted you from the way his hips began to slowly rock. He let your hand back down, adjusting to pull your hips more so into his lap. He was trying to get a very particular angle, guiding one of you legs up over his shoulder.

"There we go."

He said in a near whisper, giving a more precise thrust now, causing you to gasp, gripping the blanket beneath you. He had to have done this before. Recently. This couldn't be the same socially nervous doctor you knew. He was still his sweet self, but he knew too well how to work your body, maybe more than even you did. Either way, he must've liked the reaction you gave because he did it again, finding his pace gradually. You moaned beneath him, which only encouraged him on. When you looked at his face, it was an expression of focus mixed with need, desperation.

His pace gradually increased until you felt you were going to lose yourself. Just as it started to get to being too much, he'd slow, causing you to whine beneath him. This happened at least 3 times. You couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or not. By that third time, you looked up at him.

"Harvey, please-"

He nodded, seeming to understand your plea as he kept his faster speed. You felt your orgasm start to bubble up inside of you before finally, finally, bursting through your body in a way you couldn't remember feeling. Your body tensed, twitching, your hips trying to fuck themselves down onto him more than just what he was doing as he worked you through it. Right as you began to feel your senses start to calm down, you felt him bottom out, holding there, groaning quietly. You could feel the warm feeling inside of you as he came. He was quite the sight like that. Blushy, sweaty, and completely caught up in pleasure. He lowered your leg, readjusting before carefully pulling out.

He took a second to breathe. Then he looked at your face.

"Stay here. Do you have tissues somewhere? Or, um, maybe a washcloth?"

You gestured to the door that led to the bathroom. He stood up, going that direction to find something to clean you both up with. He took that time to think about what just happened. Not only did he get to be intimate with the woman he was in love with, but he came inside of you. Which, granted, was something he'd have to deal with later. Even so, he felt like he was lighter than air. He came back with a wash cloth, slightly damp with warm water. He cleaned you up, as well as himself.

"Would you like any assistance getting into pajamas?"

He asked. You looked up at him, tired and honestly a little clingy at the moment.

"Harvey, just come here and lay down."

He seemed a little surprised, though did as you asked. He pulled the blanket back so you could at least be beneath it. You got comfortable and moved to be close to him, snuggling against him. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, like you were fragile or maybe as if you'd disappear like some dream if he held you too tight. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, taking a moment to just think.

You were laying here, naked, wrapped in Harvey's arms, listening to the sound of his breathing. You felt calm. Tomorrow, you'd probably be a little embarrassed. Tomorrow, you'd have to talk about it, figure out what this meant for your relationship. You hoped this wasn't just a one time thing. You'd like to do more with him. You'd like to be in an actual relationship. You felt his hand move, gently rubbing your back. You decided to focus on that for now. For now, you were cozy and comfortably pressed up against Harvey's chest, and that's all that mattered.

You felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Whatever happened tomorrow, you were sure it would be okay.

[emsprovisions]

❄️ Day 24 - A Very Royal Christmas ❄️

🎁 Today’s fic is dedicated to the Tarlos Fandom 💕

Summary: A modern-day prince au where TK and Carlos were childhood friends, who have become estranged until now.

Word count: 1244

Dear Tarlos fandom,

We have reached the final day! I have had so much fun crafting these stories to post each day and I love seeing all your reactions to being gifted a fic and just all your sweet encouragement in general. You have all been so wonderful and welcoming to me and I see how kind you are to each other as well. I feel so lucky to be in such an amazing online community with so many other kind people who love tarlos. I am so grateful for the friends I’ve made this year because of this show. You all made 2024 a much better year than it would’ve been for me, and for that, I want to say thank you. Happy holidays, everyone!

With love, Emily

24 Days of Tarlos Masterpost

Prince Carlos has been staring at Prince TK all night at the winter ball, hoping he just might catch the eligible bachelor all by himself.

Carlos just wants a moment of the prince’s attention for a dance. Just a simple dance. TK is the crown prince of his country, and while Carlos isn’t next in line for the throne of his own country, he would be remiss to assume TK would ever spare a second glance at him.

He hasn’t since they were kids anyways. 

They used to be best friends, the two young princes were inseparable as playmates when they were children. Now however, one would think they hated each other for the lengths they’d go to avoid one another at functions such as these. 

Carlos doesn’t really understand where it all went wrong. One day, TK was his best friend, and the next day, he wasn’t. 

The prince in question is currently laughing with a few dukes and duchesses, picking a canapé off a passing tray. Carlos watches him from where he stands with Lady Iris, one of his other longest friends. 

“Stop staring, your highness,” Iris teases. “You might burn a hole right through him.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and turning to his friend. “I’m not staring,” the prince insists. “I’m trying to find my nerve.”

“Your nerve?” Iris raises an eyebrow at him.

“You know,” Carlos glances around to ensure no one is listening to their conversation before he hisses, “to ask him to dance.”

That makes Iris raise another eyebrow at him. “You’re going to ask the prince to dance?”

“Shh!” Carlos’s eyes widen. “Not so loud.”

“Oh my god, Carlos,” Iris grabs Carlos by the sleeve and drags him to a quieter area of the ballroom. “You are grown and acting like a child. TK doesn’t want to be your friend, he’s made that very clear. You need to get over your schoolboy crush on him and move on.”

“I deserve to know why he hates me,” Carlos huffs. “It’s been ten years and he’s still ignoring me. He can’t ignore me here.”

Iris just shakes her head, raising one of her hands. “You know what, I can’t watch this trainwreck. You are my best friend, I can’t watch you make a fool of yourself over a boy.”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself. It’s a winter ball, you’re expected to dance with people, even if you don’t like them.”

Iris’s eyes only widen and she stares at Carlos like he’s grown two heads. 

“What?” Carlos scowls. 

It’s only then Carlos realizes Iris is actually staring at a point over his shoulder. He whirls around and comes face to face with Prince TK himself. 

“Oh, your highness, I didn’t see you there…” Carlos stares into bright, green eyes he’s been in love with as long for as he can remember.

TK just smiles at him, all suave and charismatic. “Prince Carlos,” he says, holding up a hand. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

Carlos stares at TK, stunned, he glances backwards at Iris who shoos at him with wide eyes. “Um, sure, yeah.”

TK leads Carlos out onto the dance floor before pulling him in by the waist and beginning to lead. Carlos’s own hand settles at TK’s elbow as their remaining hands clasp together. It’s the closest Carlos has been to TK in years and it’s making his head spin in a way neither the champagne or dancing ever could.

“I heard of your father’s passing earlier this year, I’m so sorry, Carlos,” TK says softly.

Carlos furrows his brows. “Thank you, but is this just a pity dance?”

TK’s eyes snap back to Carlos’s. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think of you, TK,” Carlos shakes his head. “You’ve refused to speak to me for years when we used to share everything.”

 “I didn’t cut you out,” TK looks away sheepishly. “I ran away.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carlos huffs.

“Look, you have every right to be pissed,” TK shakes his head. “You have every right to hate me. But it wasn’t until your coming out story this year that I thought…”

“Thought what??”

TK’s gaze finds Carlos’s once more as he softly says, “That I might have a chance with you.”

Now Carlos is even more confused. He’d always known TK is gay. He wasn’t shy about admitting it, unlike Carlos, who always kept that part of himself locked up tight. This year, he felt brave enough to come out on his own accord, because he was tired of the endless marriage proposals and requests from advisors for him to find a nice girl to marry. People get antsy when a handsome prince nears his thirties without a ring on his finger, evidently.

Carlos stares back at TK. “I still don’t understand.”

“Carlos,” TK smiles at the prince sadly. “I’ve been in love with you forever, and I never thought you could even possibly like me back. So I ran. It wasn’t right, and I hate that I lost such an important friendship over it, but I was terrified of losing you regardless.”

“So you made the choice for me.”

“I made the choice for you,” TK agrees.

Carlos glances around the noisy, crowded ballroom. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

TK nods and leads Carlos from the dance floor and towards a quiet balcony that overlooks the grounds, beautifully lit up with Christmas lights over all the shrubbery in the gardens.

“Wow, it’s beautiful out here,” Carlos remarks as he leans up against a stone railing. It’s cold, but he’s warm from the drinks, and dancing, and the man beside him.

TK leans against the railing next to him, head turned to look at Carlos. “It sure is,” he murmurs softly.

Carlos catches TK’s gaze and shakes his head. “You’re impossible, you know.”

“I wouldn’t deserve you.”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” Carlos finds himself admitting.

It’s TK’s turn to stare at Carlos in shock. “Come again?”

“It’s true,” Carlos shakes his head with a soft little smile. “Maybe I’m crazy, but even though you walked out of my life, I’ve still thought about you. I’ve never been able to get you out of my head.”

“What does that mean, Carlos?” TK shakes his head, staring at Carlos.

Carlos thought he needed to be brave to ask TK to dance, but the real show of courage comes from this moment. 

“It means, I’d like to kiss you, your highness,” he grins, biting his bottom lip to try and contain his smile. He takes a tentative step forward. “And I hope you might allow me to.”

TK’s eyes dazzle from the glow of the moonlight and the Christmas lights all around. He nods, stepping into Carlos and circling his arms around his neck. “You’re really giving me a chance after all I’ve done to you?”

“I really am.”

The kiss is pure magic, like something out of a movie, as Carlos presses his lips to TK’s. Butterflies dance in the prince’s stomach as he pulls the other prince ever closer, wondering if he’s possibly crazy. He’s unsure how this will even work, or where they’ll go from here, but Carlos decides to be brave anyway. Despite it all, he just can’t let TK go.

[lovetaroandtaemin]

A Perfect Christmas

Lee Chan x Reader

Word Count: 671 Genre: Pure fluff Rating: PG! However, I still ask that if you are under 18, you do not interact with my blog.

Summary: Y/N and Chan celebrate Christmas together with an unexpected surprise.

Content Warnings: None! If you think there is something that needs a warning that I missed, please let me know, though! A/N: This is part of a Secret Santa drabble event hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios! This entry is for the lovely @chanranghaeys. I hope you like it! Event masterlist can be found here!

Fic is under the cut.

The tree was exactly how you and Chan envisioned it, covered with shiny tinsel and ornaments that covered the full spectrum of color. Some of them were references to your favorite movies, like a recreation of the “Burn Book” from Mean Girls, while others were brightly colored dinosaurs in homage to your boyfriend’s stage name. Sure, the tree wasn’t exactly aesthetically cohesive, but it was perfect in your eyes. Honestly, everything about the day had been perfect so far, just like every Christmas you’d spent with Chan before.

You were distracted from your admiration of the tree by Chan calling your name. When you turned around, he asked, “What are you thinking about, baby?”

“Nothing, just admiring the tree. It’s beautiful”

“I think that there’s something in this room that’s even more beautiful,” Chan said as he pulled you closer into a tight hug. As you relaxed into his hold, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to have someone that loved you as much as he did.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your boyfriend asking, “So, are you ready to open your gift?”

You nodded and responded, “Yep! I just need to go get yours.”

Chan let go of you, and you went to retrieve his gift from its hiding place. When you returned, you found him sitting in front of the tree like an excited little kid waiting for permission from his parents to open presents from Santa. It was absolutely adorable, honestly. When Chan saw you, he smiled like he knew something that you didn’t. You were curious about what he had gotten you, but you decided not to say anything.

You sat in front of Chan and smiled, handing him the box. It was small, but you were certain he would like the gift. When he opened the box and saw it, you were proven right. He carefully pulled out the two crocheted otters, sewn together to look like they were holding each other’s hands, and hugged them. With tears forming in his eyes, he looked at you and asked, “Did you make these yourself?”

With a smile, you nodded and said, “I couldn’t help myself. I recently learned that otters hold hands when they sleep so they don’t float away from each other, and I thought it was adorable.”

Chan laughed and said, “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Channie.”

Carefully, Chan placed the otters back in their box and set the box aside. Then, he handed you a box covered in bright red wrapping paper with the same excited smile on his face, like he had a secret. You carefully removed the wrapping paper, and when you opened the box, what you saw was the best surprise that he could have given you.

Inside the box was a diamond ring, just like the one that you’d excitedly shown him a few months before when you went to the mall together. You’d thought he wasn’t really paying attention, but now that you held the box in your hand, you knew that you’d been wrong.

You snapped out of your shock when Chan asked, “Do you like it?”

“I love it!”

Chan smiled and said, “I love you. From the moment I saw you, I knew that I wanted to be with you. From the moment we made our relationship official, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Tears started to fill your eyes as you nodded, and Chan carefully pulled the ring out of the box and placed it on your finger. Once the ring was on, you set the box aside and practically threw yourself into Chan’s arms. While he held you close, the two of you started to discuss what you wanted your wedding to be like. As the conversation went on, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to spend another perfect Christmas with the love of your life.

Thank you so much for reading, and merry Christmas Eve! I had so much fun participating in this event, so once again, I'd like to thank the incredible @camandemstudios for organizing it! When the event masterlist is posted, there will be a link in this post! If you liked this drabble, please like and reblog! If you'd like to see more of my work, my masterlist can be found here. If you'd like to see what I'll be posting in the future, my upcoming works list is here. If none of that catches your attention, or there's something specific you'd like to see, feel free to send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you for reading, and happy holidays!

[9ofspades]

Why are your experiences so relatable 😆

I tried making a spreadsheet to show how little of my purchases I was actually doing anything with, to shame myself into not buying anything until after I’d maybe actually read or played some more of the products, but the result was that I had fun messing around with spreadsheets and got very invested in reading ebooks and playing games to make numbers go up while also buying them at a much faster rate than I could actually get around to them. I don’t know if you would have this struggle or not.

I did try implementing a thing where I didn’t buy physical books until I got rid of ones I owned, because my space is a crisis of overflowing piles everywhere, but it turns out I am bad at holding myself to that when there are really good sales. Ebooks are a lesser evil but then I don’t read them because I still have such a backlog at the library (though I have a system in place for getting through those and then FINALLY tackling all the ones I own). I’m curbing the addiction slightly by using my libraries a bunch, but the result of that is I can’t finish books before they’re due and then I get salty about that. I tried allocating a specific budget for Humble Bundles but that didn’t work because any month there were a dozen good ones I couldn’t just *not* buy them, y’know? I might try a new system this year, though, where I let myself get a maximum of [number] bundles per month, so that any time I see one I sort of want I have to decide if it’s *really* worth using up one of my slots on it. They need to not roll over, though, and I need to come up with a sufficiently good reward for any slots I have left over at the end of each month, but that feels like it could help.

I very much did have a system starting in 2017 where I was only allowed to make one purchase per day, but that rolled over so I could save up for a spree. Restaurants and groceries counted, as did receiving packages or getting free stuff from the career fair. However receiving and opening gifts from other people did not. But buying gifts for other people did. So I had to be responsible and not buy things for myself in December cuz I needed the purchase slots to buy things for others. Opening a package counted as an additional purchase so ordering something online was 3 purchases. This was good except for the last couple of years, boring things like fines and healthcare and gas and car maintenance did not count, leaving me with a ton of extra purchase slots. BUT there’s no expiration date so I don’t feel any pressure to use them all up, so that’s also good!

I vote only buying the gift card counts as buying something.

the problem is that my goal isn't just to spend less money, or be more mindful of the money i'm spending, it's to Buy Less. like... my constant FOMO-fueled impulse-buying of $2 ebooks and $10 video game bundles is part of the problem. so buying a $25 gift card and buying my $2 ebooks with that feels like it goes against the spirit of what i'm trying to do. i have thousands of books i haven't read, and hundreds of games i haven't played, and maybe i should learn not to buy things unless i'm willing to pay full price.

... but also i've already decided that gift cards other people give me or that i earn through bing rewards etc. don't count so maybe in a few months i'll give up and decide i can buy a gift card and that buying a lot of cheap ebooks isn't the end of the world.

[mothhball]

Happy 500 Moth, it's so hard to choose o(≧o≦)o I don't drink but for you, cheers! Let's go for Robert Capa, Vodka, orange, grapefruit juice, simple syrup, and to top it off! A little cinnamon...(>////<) I'm such a sucker for fluffy...

Congrats dear 🎉

-Orchid

Robert Capa x Reader

summary short fic + fluff + cuddles + domestic + ❛ i do need you. i wouldn't be here if i didn't.  ❜

warnings none, except for the yearning that this caused within me

notes thank you so much for ordering this!!! it's so cold where I'm at right now, and this warmed me right up <3 Enjoy your drink!! (ngl this combo could actually be good)

! MINORS DNI !

event masterlist • main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 570

The dim lights of Capa‘s bedroom bathed your entwined hands in a faint blue hue as your fingertips traced gentle patterns over his palm. Exploring his fingerprints, the little cuts and scrapes from tinkering, and the few fingers where he chewed at his nails in a subconscious manifestation of his seemingly everlasting stress.

But tonight, he wasn’t stressed. No. Tonight, his body pressed against yours, holding you close against his warm frame under the sheets. Tonight, he breathed in the scent of your skin; of your hair. And he was at peace.

Every once in a while, his fingers would brush back against yours, returning the tender little touches while his free arm remained anchored around your waist. Worrying that his other arm might be falling asleep where it was resting under your head, you shifted in an attempt to make him feel more comfortable. And for a moment, it seemed to help.

Until you accidentally brushed your feet against his shins, causing him to grumble and shiver.

“Do you mind?” he murmured into your hair, tightening his free arm around your waist, wanting you closer despite your cold toes.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed out a quiet chuckle and whispered back to him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

A skeptical hum was your only answer for a moment, and you suspected he dozed off. Which, of course, wouldn’t do at all. Grinning to yourself, your feet brushed against his legs again, and you got the reaction you wanted when Robert now wrapped both arms around you.

One of his thighs slotted between yours, capturing you in his embrace to keep you from wriggling.

“I’m serious…” he grumbled. “You’re like a human icicle. Of all the people I could share a bed with.”

“And a life,” you chimed in. Your smile was smug, but fortunately, it was too dark for him to see.

“And a life…”

A peaceful silence settled over the two of you, only occasionally broken by a yawn or the rustling of the sheets. Eventually, Capa spoke up again. There was a tone in his voice that you didn’t get to hear often. Something vulnerable and soft. As a man of science, his rational mind was usually the driving force in his words and actions. But with patience and lots of persistent loving, you managed to crack his shell wide open, revealing his sweet, yearning heart. The heart of a man who used to hide behind books and equations to hide how head over heels he truly was for you.

“I used to think I could do everything by myself,” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his sentence. “But I can’t. And I’m so glad that I can’t.”

A sugary, sticky warmth ran through your body, spreading like thick molasses through your veins and causing your fingertips to tingle and your smile to widen.

“You’re the smartest person I know, Rob. I’m sure you don’t really need —“

He already knew what you were going to say, so he cut you off before you could finish, emphasizing his words with a squeeze of your waist.

“Oh, quiet. I do need you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't.”

Chuckling, he moved his body to hover over yours. The look in his eyes immediately caused your pulse to pick up.

“Even though it seems like I’ll have to use some unorthodox methods to warm you up.”

[nhaomhi]

✦ All I Want for Christmas is You .ᐟ

pairing: regretful!sunghoon x heartbroken!yn

synopsis: after a big fight, sunghoon completely disappeared. now, years later, you’re having to spend yet another Christmas alone.

genre: light angst, fluff, second chance

word count: 0.6k

naomi’s note: this lowkey sucks and i rushed it but i’m loving all of these christmas fics ahh 😭😭 i’m gonna try to make my fics longer cuz they always end up under 1k lol

.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The snowstorm was relentless, covering the city in a thick, white blanket. You stood by the window of your dimly lit apartment, watching the flakes swirl outside. The warm glow of your Christmas tree illuminated the room, but it didn’t feel festive. It felt… empty.

You sighed, clutching the mug of hot cocoa in your hands, and glanced at the clock. 10:23 PM. Two hours and it would be Christmas.

Your heart twisted as you thought about Sunghoon. You hadn’t seen him in over a year—not since the fight.

It had been ugly. He was overwhelmed with his skating career, constantly traveling, barely replying to your texts. You had felt like an afterthought, and when you confronted him, it all exploded. He said you didn’t understand the pressure he was under, and you said he didn’t care enough to make time for you.

He’d walked out that night, leaving you standing in the doorway with tears streaming down your face. You thought he’d come back, thought he’d call, but the silence stretched on, day after day, month after month.

Now, as Christmas approached, all you could think about was him. The way he used to drag you out into the snow to go ice skating, how he always pretended to lose so you could win your snowball fights. The way he’d hold your hand and tell you that you were his home, no matter where his career took him.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. You frowned, setting your mug down and crossing the room.

When you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

“Sunghoon?”

He stood there, snow clinging to his dark hair and coat, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place—regret? Hope?

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice almost lost in the howling wind.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see,” he began, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “But I couldn’t let another Christmas go by without trying to fix this.”

Your heart ached as you looked at him, the familiar features you’d missed so much. “You left, Sunghoon. You didn’t even try stay. How could you leave so easily after one fight? Why didn’t you find a reason to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice breaking. “I know I hurt you. And I’ve spent every single day wishing I could take it back.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in.

“I was scared,” he admitted, his eyes glistening. “I thought if I let myself get too close, I’d lose everything. But the truth is, I lost everything the moment I lost you.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you tried to process what he was saying. “You can’t just show up after all this time and expect everything to be okay.”

“I don’t expect that,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “But I had to try. Because… all I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is you.”

You wiped at your tears, your heart torn between anger and the love you couldn’t deny. “How do I know you won’t leave again?”

“You don’t,” he said honestly. “But I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I won’t.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the wind outside. Then, slowly, you stepped aside, letting him into the warmth of your apartment.

As he closed the door behind him, he looked at you, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t break my heart again, Sunghoon.”

He reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “Never.”

He kissed you softly, bringing his hands to wrap around your waist. The kiss was gentle and tender, full of longing. The years of pent up emotions pouring out.

And as the clock struck midnight, you let yourself believe in second chances.

[theartofcollapse]

Hello, I really love all your work! ❤️❤️ Was wondering if I can request R x Casey Novak where r is kinda hesitant getting into a relationship with her cause her job? Maybe happy ending just cause it is Christmas 😂

a/n: thank you so much. I hope you like this one as well🤍 i'm taking requests, so feel free to leave a message :) summary: read above pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.5K

masterlist

Legal Bindings - Casey Novak

Casey and you first met when you were called as a witness for one of Casey’s cases. You worked as a social worker, and your testimony had been crucial in securing a conviction. After the trial, Casey had approached you to thank you personally, and what started as a professional conversation quickly turned into something more.

You’d been casually dating for about two months, sharing coffee dates, occasional dinners, late night conversations on the phone, romantic walks at night around Central Park.

You’ve always admired Casey’s passion and dedication as an ADA, but getting close to someone whose job constantly exposed them to darkness was daunting, especially when that someone was Casey Novak, fierce, relentless, and prone to putting her job above all else.

The low hum of conversation filled the cozy coffee shop as you sat across from Casey, stirring your latte absentmindedly. She was radiant as always, her auburn hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window, her green eyes focused entirely on you. It should’ve been comforting, flattering even, but instead, it made your stomach churn.

“You’ve been quiet,” Casey said, her voice soft yet probing. “That’s not like you.”

You shrugged, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ve just been thinking, that’s all.”

Her head tilted, concern flickering in her gaze. “About what?”

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything at all. You liked Casey, more than liked her, actually, but the reality of who she was and what she did loomed over you like a shadow. It wasn’t her fault; she was incredible. But incredible came with a price, and you weren’t sure you were ready to pay it.

“Us,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Casey leaned back in her chair, her expression shifting from concern to cautious curiosity. “What about us?”

You took a deep breath, staring down at your coffee. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Her brows furrowed, and for the first time since you’d met her, she looked genuinely taken aback. “You don’t think we’re a good idea?”

“It’s not you,” you said quickly, your words tumbling over each other. “It’s your job. The cases you handle, the hours you work, it’s a lot, Casey and I’m not sure I can handle it.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak right away. Instead, she studied you, her sharp mind clearly working to piece together what you weren’t saying outright. Finally, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“Y/N, I know my job is intense,” she said, choosing her words wisely. “But it’s also just that, a job. It doesn’t define me.”

You met her eyes, your throat tightening. “But it does affect you. You go home with the weight of those cases on your shoulders. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Casey’s expression softened, and she reached across the table to take your hand. Her touch was warm, grounding. “You don’t have to compete with anything. Yes, my job can be overwhelming, but it’s also why I need someone like you in my life. Someone who reminds me that there’s still good in the world, that it’s worth fighting for.”

You wanted to believe her. God, did you want to believe her. But the thought of late nights, missed dates, and the constant worry that her work would take too much from her - maybe even from you - kept you rooted in hesitation.

“I don’t want to lose myself in this, Casey,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

Her grip on your hand tightened, and she leaned in even closer, her eyes boring into yours. “You won’t. I won’t let that happen. And if it ever feels like too much, you can tell me. I’ll listen. I’ll do everything I can to make it work.”

The sincerity in her voice, the determination, it was almost enough to tip the scales. Almost.

“I just… I need time,” you said, pulling your hand back gently.

Casey nodded, though you could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Despite your doubts, a small part of you, a hopeful, reckless part, wanted to believe her. Because if anyone could make it work, it was Casey Novak.

You weren’t sure what made you say yes when Casey asked you to meet her again the following week. Maybe it was the way she said, “no pressure,” or maybe it was the way her voice softened, almost pleading, when she’d said, “I’d really like to see you again.”

So here you were, standing in front of her apartment door with a bottle of wine in your hand and nerves twisting in your stomach. This felt big, too big. You told yourself you could still back out, but before you could entertain the thought, the door swung open, revealing Casey in jeans and a casual sweater, a rare sight that made her look softer, more approachable.

“Hey,” she said, smiling like she’d been waiting all day for this moment. “Come on in.”

You stepped inside, noting the space. It was neat but lived-in, with books and case files stacked on her coffee table and a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of her couch. It was the kind of home that reflected someone who was always busy but tried to make the most of the little free time they had.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, leading you to the kitchen, where the faint aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air.

“You cook?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Casey chuckled, setting out plates. “I had to learn at some point. Takeout gets old fast.”

You set the wine down on the counter, watching as she moved around the kitchen with ease. It was strange seeing her like this, so relaxed and normal. You weren’t used to thinking of her that way. To you, Casey had always been larger than life, a force of nature in the courtroom, all sharp edges and fiery determination.

“You okay?” she asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Just not used to seeing this side of you.”

She smiled, handing you a glass of wine. “That’s the point, isn’t it? For you to get to know me, not just the ADA, but the person behind it.”

You took a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the way her words made your heart ache. You wanted to know her, but part of you still wasn’t sure if it was safe to let yourself fall.

Dinner was simple but delicious, and Casey kept the conversation light, asking about your day, your interests, and steering clear of anything that might remind you of her work. It was nice, easy, even, but you could tell she was holding back, trying too hard to make this comfortable for you.

Afterward, the two of you settled on the couch, a comfortable silence stretching between you as you nursed your wine.

“I meant what I said before,” Casey said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.

You turned to look at her, your brow furrowing. “About what?”

“About this,” she said, gesturing between the two of you. “I know it’s not going to be easy, and I know my job makes things complicated. But I want this. I want you. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “What if it’s not enough? What if you get so caught up in your work that there’s no room for anything else?”

Casey reached out, taking your hand in hers. “Then you call me out on it. You remind me why I’m doing this, why it’s worth fighting for. Because I promise you, Y/N, I won’t let my job take me away from the people who matter most to me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with promise. For the first time, you felt a flicker of hope, a small, fragile thing, but real nonetheless.

“Okay,” you said softly, meeting her gaze. “Let’s try.”

A slow smile spread across Casey’s face, and she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “But if it gets to be too much, I’ll tell you. And you have to listen.”

“Deal,” Casey said, her smile widening.

For the first time in weeks, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift. It wouldn’t be easy, nothing worth having ever was, but as Casey leaned closer, her lips brushing yours in a tentative, hopeful kiss, you thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.