#i already know the not fun fact about her:(

[dksfml]

scripted - yjw

pairing: yang jungwon x reader x nishimura riki genre: ULTRA fluff, tiny angst, unrequited love, jealousy, love triangle (if you squint) word count: 10.3k summary: where you wrote a screenplay for your theater project about your sweet daydreams about jungwon, which got chosen for your class to present to the entire school. with him cast as the male lead while you, as the director, watch another girl play your own life story.

'Cause I, I don't wanna say what's scripted Whether you aren't with it I know what I need

The rumors about your crush on Jungwon weren’t just whispers—they were facts etched into the walls of the school. Everyone knew. Your friends, your classmates, even the juniors who only knew you by name. You had always been comfortable with it. Why wouldn’t you be? Jungwon was, by all standards, crush-worthy.

He was the type of guy people noticed instantly. Good looks, a quick wit, and a confidence that bordered on cocky but never quite crossed the line. He was friendly with everyone, not a single person immune to his easy charm. And you? You were no exception.

It was almost comical how blatant your admiration for him was. You didn’t try to hide it, laughing along with your friends when they teased you for staring at him during lunch or lingering too long by his desk. For the longest time, you were fine being the girl with the obvious crush. It was harmless fun.

But then the school retreat happened.

It had been a late-night campfire activity, the kind designed to foster trust and openness. Under the flickering firelight, with everyone’s attention pinned on you, someone dared you to confess your feelings to Jungwon.

At first, you laughed it off. “Why should I? Everyone already knows.”

But the chant started: “Do it! Do it!” Your friends joined in, and even Jungwon—sitting across from you, grinning in that infuriatingly charming way—raised an eyebrow as if daring you to go through with it.

So, you did. You stood up, brushed the dirt off your hands, and announced, “Jungwon, I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time.”

It was meant to be bold, confident, a way of taking control of the narrative that had always surrounded you. But as the laughter and applause erupted, you noticed the way Jungwon’s smile faltered. He chuckled, scratched the back of his head, and said, “Thanks, Y/N. That’s… flattering.”

Flattering. That was it. No reciprocation, no playful banter to ease the sting. Just a polite brush-off in front of everyone.

You didn’t let it show, of course. You sat back down, forced a smile, and played along with the jokes that followed. But something inside you shifted that night.

Since then, the teasing felt different—less like harmless fun and more like salt in a wound.

Weeks later, when your media studies professor announced that your play had been chosen for the class project, the room erupted into chaos.

Gasps of excitement rippled through the room, followed quickly by hushed murmurs. Your classmates exchanged knowing glances, the kind that made your stomach churn.

“Of course, her script won,” someone whispered, loud enough for you to catch. The words were casual, almost dismissive, as if your victory was inevitable—not because of your skill, but because of the ever-present rumors surrounding you.

“She’s good at this stuff,” another voice chimed in, but it was tinged with something less kind, as though your talents were overshadowed by something else entirely.

And then it came: “I bet Jungwon’s the inspiration for her male lead.”

That one landed like a punch.

You stiffened slightly, forcing your expression to remain neutral. Showing any reaction would only fuel the fire. Instead, you stood and walked to the front of the classroom with measured steps, pretending not to notice the smirks or the pointed glances being exchanged.

“It’s a well-written piece,” your professor said warmly, handing you back your script. Her genuine praise should have felt like a balm, but the weight of your classmates’ stares made it hard to savor the moment. “You’ll be the director, too, so start preparing.”

You nodded, managing a polite smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

As you turned to return to your seat, you could feel the whispers start up again, quieter now but no less cutting.

“Did you hear about the retreat?” one voice said. “Yeah. She confessed to him in front of everyone.” “And he didn’t say anything back.” “Awkward…”

The words followed you like a shadow as you sat down, gripping the edges of the script.

This was supposed to be a win—a moment of pride for your writing—but instead, all you could think about was how the story you’d poured your heart into was about to be dissected by the very people who had watched you get rejected.

You’d spent countless nights drafting this play, pouring your soul into the characters, crafting a story that felt raw and honest. But now, all you could hear was the echo of your own confession, the way Jungwon had smiled politely, like he didn’t want to hurt your feelings but didn’t know what else to say.

Flattering. That’s what he had called it.

The memory burned, and for a fleeting moment, you considered pulling your script from the project entirely. But no—that would only make things worse. The last thing you wanted was to give anyone more ammunition to use against you.

So instead, you forced yourself to meet the professor’s eyes again as she moved on to announce the rest of the assignments. You sat there, quiet and composed, as if the whispers didn’t bother you.

The first group meeting for the play began in a chaotic hum of chatter and excitement. Despite your nerves, you stood at the front of the room, gripping the script like it was the only solid thing in your world. As the director, you knew you had to project confidence, even as the weight of everyone’s expectations pressed down on you.

“Alright, let’s get started,” you began, forcing your voice to sound steady. “We’ll need strong actors for the leads. There’s the rich male lead and the pauper female lead, they need to have believable chemistry.”

You barely got the words out before someone shouted from the back, “Jungwon should be the male lead!”

The room exploded with agreement, your classmates’ voices blending into a whirlwind of approval.

“Yeah, he’s perfect for it!” “Jungwon’s already the campus heartthrob—he basically is the rich boy.” “And he’s a natural actor!”

The noise rang in your ears, but you managed to nod as though the suggestion didn’t bother you. Inside, your chest felt tight. This was inevitable, wasn’t it? Of course, they’d choose him.

You raised a hand to quiet the room. “Jungwon, are you okay with that?” you asked, keeping your tone carefully neutral, professional, like this was any other task.

All eyes turned to him as he leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips tugging into that easy grin that made your stomach twist.

“Sure, why not?” he replied casually, like it was no big deal.

The ease with which he accepted stung more than it should have, and you hated yourself for letting it bother you. But that smile—the same one that had made your heart flutter countless times—felt sharper now, like a blade.

“Great,” you said briskly, moving on as though you weren’t fighting to keep your composure. “For the female lead…”

“How about Minji?” someone chimed in before you could finish.

The room buzzed again with approval. Minji, with her long, glossy hair and angelic features, was undeniably beautiful. She was talented, too—her voice could silence a room, and her presence commanded attention. And then there was the one thing that made your stomach churn: her closeness to Jungwon.

“She’d be perfect,” another classmate added enthusiastically. “She and Jungwon already have great chemistry.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing the muscles in your face to stay neutral. This was your moment to speak up, to push for a different choice, but what could you say? Everyone already assumed you’d written the male lead with Jungwon in mind. Picking anyone else now would only make it more obvious.

You turned to Minji, who was practically glowing under the attention. “Minji, are you in?” you asked, your voice sounding distant even to your own ears.

She flashed a dazzling smile, flipping her hair over her shoulder as if the decision had been made long before you even asked. “Of course!” she chirped, casting a playful glance at Jungwon.

It was a glance that made the whispers of their rumored closeness feel all too real.

“Perfect,” you said tightly, moving on to assign the rest of the roles. Your pen hovered over your notebook as your classmates debated the supporting cast, their voices buzzing around you like static.

The session ended quickly after that, with everyone chattering excitedly about their parts. You remained at the front, collecting stray papers and reminding everyone to bring their scripts for the first reading.

As the room cleared, you caught sight of Jungwon and Minji walking out together, their laughter echoing in the hallway.

You let out a slow breath, willing yourself not to dwell on it. This was your project, your story—and you’d see it through, no matter how much it stung.

The following afternoon, the cast gathered in a loose circle in the auditorium, scripts in hand, buzzing with the kind of energy that only came with new beginnings. You stood at the front, clipboard clutched tightly, feeling the weight of their eyes on you. As the director, you had to guide them through this. You had to remain composed, professional, and in control.

“Alright, let’s start from the top,” you said, your voice steady despite the anxious flutter in your chest. “We’ll read through the entire script first. Blocking and staging will come later.”

The hum of voices quieted as everyone found their places. The reading began smoothly, with the cast slipping into their roles as if they’d been made for them.

Jungwon, sitting with a relaxed posture, leaned forward slightly as he read his lines. His voice carried the same effortless charm he exuded in real life, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Each word felt natural, as if he wasn’t acting at all.

Minji was just as polished, her voice flowing with practiced ease. She smiled at the right moments, added depth to her lines, and cast Jungwon occasional glances that made their chemistry undeniable. The rest of the cast followed suit, and as much as you hated to admit it, the characters truly were coming to life.

But when you reached page 37, something inside you twisted.

Your eyes scanned the dialogue—the words you had written from a place of quiet vulnerability. It was a simple scene, one you thought would go unnoticed by everyone except you. But now, it felt like a spotlight was shining directly on your heart.

“We’ll skip this part,” you said quickly, your voice sharp enough to cut through the room’s focus.

There was a brief pause as everyone flipped to the page in question.

“Why skip it?” Jungwon’s voice broke the silence. His tone was curious but calm, the faintest hint of confusion in his furrowed brow as he studied you.

You met his gaze briefly, forcing a shrug. “It’s unnecessary,” you replied, injecting as much nonchalance into your tone as you could. “The pacing is better without it.”

Jungwon didn’t let it go. His eyes dropped to the script, scanning the scene you were trying to erase.

It was a quiet moment between the male and the female lead, walking side by side on their way to class. She teased him about skipping gym, and he promised, half-jokingly, that he’d join her next time.

Your chest tightened. The scene wasn’t just any scene. It was yours. A memory you cherished more than you wanted to admit; walking to gym class with Jungwon, just the two of you, back when things were simpler. Back when you could still let yourself enjoy the small moments without the weight of rejection looming over you.

Jungwon’s expression shifted as he read, his casual curiosity giving way to something softer. He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours with an almost cautious understanding.

“This…” he started, his voice quieter now, as though the realization struck him mid-sentence.

You turned your face away, refusing to let him see the crack in your armor. “It’s just a filler scene,” you said briskly, cutting him off. “Let’s move on.”

Minji, oblivious to the tension, glanced around before launching into her next line, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the group. The script reading resumed, but the energy in the room had shifted.

Jungwon’s usual ease and confidence seemed muted, his responses more measured and subdued. You could feel his eyes on you occasionally, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

As the session wore on, your focus remained on the script, your voice steady as you guided the cast. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the weight of his lingering gaze or the way your carefully guarded secret had come dangerously close to being exposed.

As the cast dispersed after the reading session, you stayed at the front, scanning your notes to look busy. Jungwon approached, the script dangling loosely in his hand, his expression unreadable.

“You’re good at this,” he said, his voice steady but quieter than usual.

“Thanks,” you replied without looking up, pretending to focus on the clipboard in your hands.

“You really wrote the screenplay very well,” he added after a beat, his tone careful, deliberate. “The school will really enjoy our performance, thanks to you.”

Your grip on the clipboard tightened for the briefest moment before you forced yourself to relax. You glanced up, keeping your face neutral. “Thanks, Jungwon. The story… I know that it’s a bit…”

He seemed to study you as he waits for you to finish your sentence, searching for something in your face, but you didn’t find the right word to say under his gaze. After your long pause, he nodded and turned to walk away.

But as his footsteps receded, you felt the weight of his gaze lingering, as though he wasn’t fully convinced.

The heavy sound of the auditorium doors creaking open snapped you out of your thoughts. A tall figure strolled in with an air of nonchalance—Riki, the ever-late and often-absent classmate.

“Wow, look who finally showed up,” someone from the remaining group called out, half-joking.

Riki grinned, unfazed by the attention. “What can I say? The world doesn’t stop turning without me.”

The teasing quickly shifted, and someone shouted, “All the roles are taken, dude! You’ll have to beg the director for a spot now.”

Riki’s eyes flicked to you instantly, his grin widening. He made his way over with a confidence that clashed with the fact he was perpetually absent.

You raised an eyebrow as he stopped in front of you, completely ignoring the clipboard in your hands or the seriousness in your posture.

“So, boss,” he began, crossing his arms. “What’s my role?”

“We’ve already assigned roles,” you replied flatly, not missing a beat. “You’re too late. You should’ve been here on time.”

Riki didn’t look even remotely deterred. Instead, he tilted his head, feigning a thoughtful look before shrugging. “Guess I’ll create my own role, then. Can I handle the choreography for the play?”

“What?” you asked, more baffled than angry.

“Relax,” he said with a wink. “It’s what I’m good at. You don’t want me acting anyway—I’d outshine everyone.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Riki raised a finger, cutting you off. “Trust me. I’ll do it right.”

There was something so audacious yet oddly reassuring in his tone that you found yourself momentarily speechless.

But then you snapped out of it. “Fine,” you relented. “But if you’re taking this seriously, you can’t skip practices anymore.”

Riki placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Do I look like the kind of guy who slacks off?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned.

He laughed, the sound echoing across the emptying auditorium. “Fair enough. See you at practice, boss.”

And just like that, he turned and strolled off, his bag slung over his shoulder as if he’d just secured the role of a lifetime.

You exhaled sharply, watching him leave. Jungwon, still standing at a distance, hadn’t said a word throughout the entire exchange. But you felt his gaze, quiet and observant, as if he were trying to piece together the dynamic between you and this latecomer who had confidently claimed a place in your play.

Shaking off the thought, you turned back to your notes, already bracing yourself for the chaos that Riki would undoubtedly bring to your carefully planned production

As the weeks of rehearsals progressed, one thing became undeniably clear—Riki was no longer the unreliable absentee everyone had pegged him to be.

“Is it just me, or has Riki been showing up every day?” one of your classmates whispered loudly during a break, eyeing him as he adjusted a prop onstage.

Another chimed in, “Yeah, and he’s actually… working. Who knew?”

You caught snippets of their conversation but chose not to engage. It was true, though. Ever since Riki had taken up the choreography, he’d been showing up not just on time but with energy and enthusiasm that sometimes even rivaled yours. His movements were precise, and he had a knack for motivating others to step up their game.

Still, you were wary. “Don’t let it get to your head,” you told him after one practice when he was lingering by the stage.

Riki only smirked, leaning against the edge of the stage. “Admit it—you’re impressed.”

You rolled your eyes, but his confidence was disarming.

One evening, during rehearsals, the cast gathered to practice a particularly intense scene between the leads. Jungwon and Minji were center stage, the script in Jungwon’s hand as he delivered his lines.

“I can’t let you leave,” he said, his tone calm but firm. His hand hovered awkwardly near Minji’s face, his fingers twitching slightly as if unsure where to place them.

“Jungwon, you’re supposed to grab her chin,” you reminded him, keeping your tone neutral as you pointed at the script. “It’s a pivotal moment of the play—it shows how desperate he is to get her to listen.”

Jungwon hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I get that. I just… don’t want to make it awkward.”

Minji, ever professional, smiled encouragingly. “It’s fine, Jungwon. Just go for it.”

But as he nodded and turned back to her, his shoulders tensed, and his grip on the script tightened. His hand moved forward again but stopped short, hovering in mid-air as though weighed down by an invisible force.

You frowned, watching him closely. Something about his hesitation seemed deeper than stage fright. His gaze darted toward the ground, avoiding Minji’s eyes entirely. His other hand, clenched at his side, betrayed the nerves he was trying to hide.

“Jungwon,” you said, your voice softer this time. “What’s holding you back?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening as if he were biting back words. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “I just… don’t want to mess it up.”

The murmurs of impatience from the cast grew louder, and before you could say more, Riki stood up from where he’d been sitting near the edge of the stage.

Suddenly, Riki, who had been sitting cross-legged near the edge of the stage, stood up. “Let me show you how it’s done,” he said, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

The group fell silent, curious to see what he would do.

You blinked, caught off guard when Riki gestured toward you. “Come here,” he said.

“What? No,” you replied, instinctively taking a step back.

“C’mon, boss,” he teased, his tone light but his gaze steady. “You’re the director. Let’s give them a proper demonstration.”

You hesitated, but the expectant stares of your classmates left you with no choice. Reluctantly, you stepped onto the stage, your palms clammy as you stood opposite him.

“Okay,” Riki said, his voice dropping an octave. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your chin before tilting it up, so your eyes met his.

The intensity of his stare made your breath hitch. His grip wasn’t too tight, but it was firm enough to command attention. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

The room erupted in whistles and laughter.

“Wow, you guys look natural!” someone shouted, breaking the spell.

Another teased, “Riki, are you sure you’re not auditioning for the male lead?”

Your face burned as you quickly pulled back, avoiding everyone’s amused stares. “That’s enough,” you said, trying to sound authoritative. “Let’s get back to the scene.”

But as you walked offstage, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes lingering on you—or the way your heart had skipped a beat during those few seconds.

From the corner of the room, Jungwon sat silently, the script still in his hands. He hadn’t said a word during the exchange between you and Riki, but his expression was thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the interaction unfold.

When rehearsal resumed, he seemed quieter than usual, delivering his lines with less enthusiasm.

By now, the whispers about Riki’s sudden dedication were impossible to ignore.

“Seriously, who is this guy?” one of your classmates joked as they watched him adjust the blocking for a scene.

“He’s even showing up to classes he doesn’t need to be at,” another added.

Riki overheard and grinned as he walked past. “Guess I’m a changed man,” he quipped, winking in your direction.

You shook your head, hiding a smile. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I think I’m your star player, boss,” he shot back, his tone playful but self-assured.

Despite your best efforts to keep things professional, you couldn’t help but feel that the dynamic between you and Riki had shifted. Whether it was his newfound confidence or the easy camaraderie you had developed, he was no longer just the absentee classmate.

And though you tried to focus on the play, you couldn’t ignore the growing sense that he was slowly stealing the spotlight—both on and off the stage.

The last bell of the day had already rung, and most of your classmates were already packing up for the gymnasium, where the final recital practices were scheduled. You, however, were asked to go to your professor's office to give her an update on the progress of your play.

"How are things going?" she asked, sitting behind her desk as you entered.

You took a seat across from her, straightening the stack of papers in your hands. "Everything's on track," you said confidently. "The cast is showing great improvement, and we’re refining the blocking. The choreography is coming along well, too."

Your professor nodded, clearly pleased with your professionalism. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. Keep it up."

Then, she handed you a pile of scripts. "These are your classmates' plays. I accidentally forgot to return them, so I need you to give them back personally when you can."

You took the scripts, nodding, and tucked them under your arm. "Of course, I’ll make sure they get them."

"Great," your professor said, standing up. "You’re doing well with the play. Just make sure you keep the momentum going. Let me know if you need anything."

With a quick smile and a polite nod, you left her office. The hallways were deserted, the school echoing with the sound of your footsteps as you walked back to your classroom to drop off your things before heading to the gym.

Once you returned to the empty classroom, you placed the pile of scripts on your desk and started organizing them. The last thing you wanted was to carry a mess of papers with you to the gymnasium.

But just as you were about to finish, something slipped from the pile, falling to the floor with a soft thud. You crouched down, trying to grab it quickly, but in the process, the rest of the scripts followed, scattering in every direction.

"Great," you muttered under your breath, crouching down again to gather them all.

As you reached for the scattered pages, your eyes landed on one particular script—Jungwon’s. Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the familiar handwriting on the cover.

Curious and, admittedly, a little nervous, you opened the script, flipping through the pages.

You froze.

The pages before you were filled with intimate details—details you never expected to see written down in such a way. It was his play, sure, but it was more than just a story—it was a record of everything you had ever experienced together, from his perspective.

The first scene you came across made your stomach flip. It was about the time you’d first noticed Jungwon at the vending machine—the way you both had awkwardly brushed past each other without ever speaking a word, and how, despite that, you felt something stir within you. Then, it was followed by a scene that took your breath away:

“He watched her, unsure how to approach her. His heart raced, but he was too afraid to speak. Would she even notice him?”

“She had no idea, but he had been quietly in love with her for a while now. He watched her with admiration from afar, unsure how to close the distance between them, afraid she wouldn’t feel the same.”

Your hands trembled as you read. It was about your confession to him, the moment you had told him how you felt, how he had turned you down, and how you had felt a part of you break. But what stopped your heart in its tracks was the next part:

“His chest tightened as he saw her face when she confessed. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just say the words back. He had wanted to, so badly. But the moment felt all wrong, the timing was off. He imagined confessing to her in a more intimate, personal space—just the two of them. He wanted to give her his best self when he said it, not under the scrutiny of friends. Not when she was the one taking the first step. That thought held him back."

"In that moment, seeing the hurt in her eyes, he understood just how much he had been lying to himself. He had always loved her, more than he had let on. But it was too late now. He had failed her."

You couldn’t breathe. The room spun around you as you tried to make sense of the words in front of you. His play—it wasn’t just about the story of two characters. It was about you. About him. About everything that had happened between the two of you.

And there it was, in black and white—his feelings for you, all these years, something he had never said aloud.

You were so caught up in the revelation that you didn’t hear the door open.

"Hey," a voice broke through your thoughts. Jungwon stood in the doorway, looking a bit concerned. "Everyone’s waiting for you. We’re about to start the practice."

You quickly snapped the script shut, your hands still trembling. Jungwon’s eyes flickered to the pile of papers you had spilled, his expression shifting when he saw the one you were holding.

Before you could say anything, he crossed the room quickly, reaching for the script you had been reading. "Give that to me," he said, his voice unusually serious.

You tried to pull it back instinctively, but Jungwon’s grip was firm. Without another word, he yanked it from your hands and tucked it under his arm.

"Jungwon—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Don’t," he said quietly, glancing at you with a flicker of something in his eyes—regret?

He quickly helped you gather the other scattered scripts, his movements swift but oddly gentle, as though trying to avoid causing any more tension. When everything was back in order, he straightened up, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

You nodded, still reeling from what you had just discovered. Without another word, you both left the classroom, walking side by side down the hall to the gymnasium.

The silence between you was thick, filled with unspoken words. You wanted to say something—anything—but you couldn’t find the right words.

And Jungwon? He didn’t say anything either. He simply walked beside you, his footsteps steady, his presence a quiet, unspoken reminder of everything that had just shifted between you.

As you approached the gymnasium, the muffled chatter and sounds of rehearsals filtered through the door. It was a stark contrast to the heavy silence between you and Jungwon. He paused briefly, glancing at you as if he wanted to say something but ultimately stayed silent. With a slight nod, he opened the door and stepped aside to let you enter first.

The cast was already bustling about, running lines and adjusting props. Riki, as usual, was at the center of the activity, demonstrating a dance sequence with a playful flair that drew laughter and cheers from everyone around him.

“Finally!” Riki called out when he spotted you. “Thought you’d abandoned us, boss.”

You forced a smile, but your mind was still stuck on Jungwon’s script. Riki must have noticed something off, because his grin faltered slightly as his eyes flicked between you and Jungwon.

“You good?” he asked, tilting his head. His voice was softer, more private, as he stepped closer.

“Yeah, just... long day,” you replied quickly, waving him off. The last thing you needed was more attention on whatever turmoil you were feeling.

Riki studied you for a moment longer before smirking. “Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” He clapped his hands together, effectively pulling everyone’s focus back to the rehearsal. “Alright, people, let’s nail this!”

The next few hours passed in a blur, each moment charged with a mix of anticipation and tension. Jungwon, usually the calm and collected actor, was delivering his lines with an intensity that was hard to ignore.

His voice held a restrained urgency, as though every word carried more weight than it should. His eyes, too, were different today: dark, focused, and filled with an emotion that couldn’t quite be placed. It wasn’t anger or frustration, but something deeper—something unspoken.

Minji, always perceptive, noticed the change immediately. During one of the breaks, as the rest of the cast gathered around the table, she leaned in, a small but knowing smile on her lips.

“Jungwon, that was incredible! Whatever you’re channeling, keep it up.” Her voice was playful, teasing, but there was a certain depth in her eyes that suggested she wasn’t just complimenting his acting. She was recognizing something more—something raw, something between them.

Jungwon looked at her, his usual smile absent, replaced by a flicker of something complicated. For a brief moment, his gaze lingered on her, searching her face, as if weighing her words.

His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gave a slow nod, as though acknowledging her comment, but not quite willing to let go of the emotion he was carrying.

The chemistry between them was undeniable—electric, yet unspoken. It hung in the air like a tension neither was willing to address.

Minji noticed the pause, her expression softening as she regarded him. She wasn’t bothered by his silence; she was used to the layers beneath his exterior. But something in the way he looked at her—intense, almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.

Something about the way their dynamic had shifted was undeniable, and Minji couldn’t help but wonder if Jungwon felt it too.

You, standing off to the side, watched the exchange with a quiet unease. You had become accustomed to their interactions during rehearsals—how they worked seamlessly together, how there was an unspoken rhythm between them.

But today, it felt different. There was a new level of intimacy in their shared glances, a quiet understanding that seemed to transcend the script.

Deciding to focus elsewhere, you turned your attention to Riki, who had the entire cast engaged in an impromptu choreography session. His infectious energy pulled everyone in, and even though you knew you had your own parts to direct, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the undercurrent of tension between Jungwon and Minji.

The way they stood near each other, their bodies close but not touching, was enough to make the air around them thick with unspoken words. Jungwon’s eyes would flicker toward Minji every so often, as though he couldn’t help himself, even as he pretended to focus on his lines. Minji, ever the professional, matched his energy, but there was something different in her demeanor too—an openness that seemed to invite his silent attention.

At one point, Minji laughed at something one of the other actors said, and Jungwon’s gaze followed her laugh, softening for a fraction of a second. He was caught in the moment, his usual composure slipping as he watched her.

For just a moment, it seemed like the world outside of them ceased to exist. Their chemistry was undeniable, a magnetic pull that neither could easily escape from.

As rehearsals continued, the dynamic between the two only grew more intense. Minji’s confidence fed off Jungwon’s intensity, and Jungwon seemed to find something in her presence that grounded him, making his performance richer, more layered.

The unspoken connection between them wasn’t just visible to the actors on stage, it was palpable to everyone in the room. The cast couldn’t help but notice the way they seemed to mirror each other’s movements, the way their eyes would meet at the most unexpected moments.

In your eyes, what they have was more than just good acting, it was something real. And you couldn’t ignore the weight of it—the way their relationship, both on and off stage, was evolving. The lines between performance and reality were blurring, and you couldn’t help but feel the emotional toll it was taking on all of you.

By the time rehearsal ended, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. As the cast began packing up, you lingered near the stage, tidying up stray props and papers.

“You’re still here?” Riki’s voice came from behind you. Turning, you found him leaning casually against a pillar, his bag slung over one shoulder.

“Just finishing up,” you replied.

He tilted his head, his playful grin returning. “Need help?”

You hesitated but shook your head. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

Riki didn’t budge. Instead, he stepped closer, his expression softening. “Hey,” he said, his voice low. “You seem... distracted tonight. Did something happen?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the concern in his eyes stopped you. Riki’s usual teasing demeanor was gone, replaced by a sincerity that caught you off guard.

“It’s nothing,” you said after a pause. “Just... personal stuff.”

He didn’t press further, simply nodding as if to say he understood. “Well, if you need to talk—or vent—I’m around.” Then, with a wink, he added, “Can’t have my star director burning out before opening night.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Thanks, Riki.”

He gave you a mock salute before heading out, leaving you alone once more.

As you turned back to finish cleaning, you heard soft footsteps approaching. Glancing over your shoulder, you found Jungwon standing there, his hands shoved into his pockets. His gaze was cautious, almost apologetic.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you nodded, setting down the props you were holding. Jungwon stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking as he lowered his voice.

“About the script…” Jungwon began, his voice tight, as though each word had to be pulled from him. He hesitated, running a hand through his hair, his expression flickering with something deeper—something he wasn't ready to reveal. “I didn’t mean for you to see it. It wasn’t... ready.”

You stood frozen, heart pounding in your chest, overwhelmed by the weight of the moment. The sudden shift in Jungwon, the vulnerability in his voice—it caught you off guard. “It’s not just a story, is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer but unable to hold back the question.

Jungwon’s gaze met yours, dark and intense, as if he were trying to carve his soul into the air between you. For a brief second, you saw it—the raw emotion swirling beneath the composed surface, something so fragile and real that it made your chest tighten. His lips parted as though he was about to say something, but then his eyes flickered away, as if he couldn’t bear to meet yours any longer.

“No,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of the secret he could no longer keep, like a confession he’d been holding back for far too long. “It’s not…” His words hung in the air, a razor-thin thread between you that neither of you could escape.

The tension in the space between you was suffocating, thick with the unspoken things that had been festering for weeks, months, maybe even years. You could feel your breath catch in your throat as you stepped forward, your heart racing in your chest.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Your voice cracked, the question more painful than anything you’d expected. The confusion, the hurt, the feeling of betrayal—everything you had bottled up finally erupted, sharp and raw. “Why wait until now, Jungwon? Why couldn’t you just... say it?”

His eyes were closed for a moment, his jaw clenched as if he was fighting something fierce inside himself. When he opened them again, the depth of the emotion there nearly broke you. He exhaled sharply, a shaky breath that made the air between you both feel like it was thickening, suffocating you both.

“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, the words spilling out in a rush, as if he couldn’t hold them in any longer. He stepped closer, but the space between you felt like miles. His voice cracked, raw with vulnerability. “Scared that if I told you, if I showed you what I really feel… it would ruin everything. I’m scared that when you graduate, when you leave for college… you won’t need me anymore. That I’ll be just some fading memory, and you’ll walk away from me without a second thought. And I… I can’t bear that.”

His words cut through you, deep and jagged, breaking something inside you. Your chest tightened, the world spinning as his confession sank in. His voice trembled with emotion, and for a moment, you didn’t know whether to cry or scream, the weight of everything you’d ever wanted from him crashing down in waves.

“I...” You swallowed, your voice unsteady as your heart hammered in your chest. “You... you really think that? You think I would forget you? That just because you’re going away, I wouldn’t still need you? You really believe that, Jungwon?” You stepped even closer now, the words pouring out of you faster than you could catch them. “You could’ve told me before. You should’ve told me before. You know how much I like you. Hell, everyone on campus knows. You said you’re going out of town for college? Do you really think that would change how I feel? It doesn’t. It never would’ve.”

Your voice broke as the last words slipped from your mouth, the emotion that had been simmering under the surface for so long finally breaking free. You weren’t sure when you had taken the step forward, but now, there was nothing between you but the distance of his unspoken words.

Jungwon’s face was tortured, like he was carrying the weight of something too heavy to bear. He bit his lip, his eyes filled with regret and something else—something deeper. And then, as if he couldn’t take the space between you any longer, he closed the distance, his breath warm against your skin.

But just as the tension reached its breaking point, the world seemed to shift. A loud crash, followed by a piercing scream from the far side of the auditorium, shattered the moment. The entire room fell into stunned silence.

You whipped your head around to see Minji sprawled on the floor, clutching her ankle, her face twisted in shock and pain.

The chaos erupted in an instant—cries of panic, footsteps scrambling toward her. But as you stood there, frozen, your heart still racing, all you could feel was the sting of everything unsaid, the weight of Jungwon’s confession hanging in the air, unfinished.

He hadn’t meant to pull away. Neither of you had. But in the next breath, everything had changed.

The commotion had taken everyone by surprise. Minji had been practicing a particularly complicated scene when she slipped, falling awkwardly and injuring her ankle badly. The room fell into chaos, the cast members rushing to her side, their faces filled with panic as she clutched her leg in pain.

“Someone get the nurse!” you shouted, but you were already on your way over, kneeling beside Minji, trying to calm her down. Jungwon was right beside you, his usual composed expression slipping into something much more concerned.

The moment the news came through, it felt like the entire world stopped. The hospital had confirmed that Minji had severely sprained her ankle—no one could have anticipated how badly she’d hurt herself, and now, there was no way she would be able to perform for at least two weeks, maybe more. The timing couldn’t have been worse. The performance was just days away, and without Minji, the play might not go on.

The cast gathered in the rehearsal room, tension thick in the air. You could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, the silent expectation building with every passing second. The murmurs began almost immediately as they discussed who could possibly fill in for Minji at the last minute.

“We could call in an understudy,” one member suggested, clearly grasping at straws.

“None of the understudies know the part as well as Minji does,” another replied, shaking their head. “We don’t have time for that.”

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll find someone who can—” Riki cut himself off, his face drawn with concern as he glanced at the empty space where Minji usually stood.

The silence that followed felt deafening. It was clear to everyone that there was no one else who could take over the role in such a short time. That’s when one of the cast members, a girl who had always been pragmatic to the point of bluntness, turned toward you. Her gaze was unwavering.

“Well... if we’re being realistic,” she began, the words hanging heavy in the air, “you know the lines, right?”

You froze, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. “I—what?” you stammered, your stomach sinking as her eyes bored into you. The thought of stepping into Minji’s shoes, even for a moment, felt like an impossible task.

“You’ve been working with her the whole time and directed this whole play,” she continued, a hint of impatience in her voice. “You’re the only one who knows her part well enough to do this. Plus, you’re the one who wrote the play.”

“I—” You faltered, panic creeping into your throat. “I don’t know if I can...”

“You don’t have a choice,” another voice cut in sharply. It was Riki. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “It’s you or no one. We don’t have time for hesitation. The play is in a week.”

The other cast members exchanged uneasy glances. Some of them, like Riki, seemed convinced that you were the only viable option, but others looked skeptical, unconvinced that you could actually pull it off.

“It’s not just about knowing the lines,” someone else muttered, crossing their arms. “It’s about embodying the role. You’re the director, sure, but stepping in for Minji? That’s a whole different challenge.”

The room fell into a tense silence, and you could feel the weight of the decision bearing down on you. Your palms were sweating, your mind racing. You glanced around, meeting Jungwon’s gaze for a brief moment. He was standing a few paces away, his expression unreadable, his eyes fixed on you. There was a softness in his gaze, but he didn’t speak up. He didn’t offer his support, not even a hint of reassurance. It was as though he was waiting for you to make the call on your own.

"I’m... I’m not sure I can do it," you said, your voice trembling as you shook your head. The words felt like an admission of failure even as they left your lips. The pressure was mounting, thick and suffocating. You could feel the anxious tension in the room, swirling around you.

Then another voice broke the silence, a supporting actress, her tone firm. “We don’t have time to find anyone else. You’re going to have to take the role, Y/N. There’s no other option.”

You hesitated, your heart thudding painfully in your chest, but the weight of the situation settled over you like a blanket. The others weren’t happy, and you weren’t sure you were either, but there was no room for second-guessing.

“Fine,” you muttered, almost too quietly for anyone to hear. “I’ll do it.”

Riki gave a brief nod, signaling that the decision was made. The cast moved forward, but there was no sense of triumph, only a shared understanding that the next few days would be exhausting and grueling. You weren’t sure what you had just agreed to, but it was clear that everyone was relying on you to make it work.

The first rehearsal in your new role was a mess. You stumbled through the lines, your tongue tripping over words that should’ve felt familiar. Every gesture that Minji had made with grace now felt awkward and forced. You felt like you were drowning, each second slipping away from you as you tried desperately to remember the blocking, the expressions, the emotions you needed to convey. The cast’s frustration was palpable.

“This isn’t how we rehearsed it,” one of the actors muttered under their breath, throwing you an annoyed glance as you fumbled with the choreography.

“Yeah,” another added, crossing his arms and clearly skeptical. “It’s going to take a lot more than this.”

You felt yourself shrink under their judgment, the weight of their eyes pressing on you. It wasn’t that they were outright cruel—it was more the fact that they were impatient. They didn’t think you could pull it off, and frankly, neither did you.

As the days passed, the rehearsals didn’t improve much. By the second day, you were losing confidence. You couldn’t stop comparing yourself to Minji, her effortless performance a constant reminder of how far you had to go. The tension between the cast members grew, and you could feel it in the air. Every practice session felt like a battle—one where you weren’t sure you were going to win.

Jungwon, as usual, was quiet during the rehearsals. He didn’t say much, but you could feel him watching you, always standing just a little further away than you would’ve liked. His eyes never left you, but he said nothing. His silence was both comforting and unnerving.

“Y/N, you’ve got to work harder,” one of your classmates said, his tone sharp as the cast took a break. “We don’t have time for mistakes. We know you have a lot on your plate, considering you’re still our director. Thankfully Riki’s now co-directing though. You just need to be better, we know you’re capable.”

His words stung more than they should’ve, especially when it wasn’t your fault that Minji had gotten hurt. But the pressure was unbearable. You were carrying the weight of the play on your shoulders, and it felt like the world was watching, waiting for you to fail.

It was during one particularly frustrating rehearsal that Jungwon finally spoke to you. You had just stumbled over another line and had nearly given up in frustration when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re doing your best,” Jungwon said quietly, his voice a gentle balm against the harshness of the rehearsal room. You looked up at him, surprised by the softness in his words. His gaze was steady, unwavering. “I know it’s hard... but just trust yourself. You’re stronger than you think.”

His words—simple, calm—pierced through the storm of anxiety inside you. Something in his tone made you pause, made you take a breath. For the first time in days, you felt a flicker of reassurance.

“Thanks, Jungwon,” you murmured, the weight of his support grounding you. In that moment, despite everything, you felt like you could at least keep going. Maybe you couldn’t do it perfectly, but you could keep trying.

The performance day arrived in a blur of last-minute adjustments. Everyone was exhausted, nerves frayed, but despite the tension, there was a sense of collective determination. The theater was packed with an eager audience, and as you stood backstage, the reality of it all hit you.

You were about to step out onto the stage, alone in a role you hadn’t fully prepared for, a role that belonged to someone else. But then you looked at Jungwon—he was standing at the edge of the stage, watching you with a quiet intensity.

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes met his, and in that moment, you found the strength you needed. He gave you a small, encouraging smile, and it was as though he was silently telling you that everything was going to be okay.

The stage was set. The audience’s murmurs faded as the play began, and the atmosphere shifted from anticipation to pure focus. The first few lines came out smoothly, and with each passing moment, the tension you had felt in the rehearsals started to melt away. The natural rhythm of the play flowed effortlessly between you and the other actors. But what you hadn’t expected—what you hadn’t anticipated—was how easy it felt to perform alongside Jungwon.

Every movement, every word, every glance felt effortless. As soon as you shared the first scene with him, there was an unspoken connection. His presence on stage was magnetic—his voice strong, yet soft, filled with depth. And his eyes—those eyes—spoke volumes without him having to utter a single word. You hadn’t expected to feel so at ease, so in sync with him, but it was as though you were breathing in rhythm, your performances becoming one.

Lila: (Her voice laced with doubt, her eyes searching his for reassurance.) “You... you really think you could want me? I’m nothing like the women you’re used to, Lawrence. I don’t belong in your world.”

Lawrence (Jungwon): (His voice calm, unwavering, as he looks at her with a sincerity that catches her off guard.) “I’ve always wanted you, Lila. You. Not the world you think I live in. Not the money or status. Just you.”

The way his words lingered in the air made your heart flutter. His gaze softened, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as if the entire world faded away. The audience, the stage, the lights—they all disappeared, leaving only the connection between your characters.

In this scene, Lila was supposed to be uncertain, lost in her own doubts, but Adrian’s unwavering confidence made it feel like she could do anything. He gave her the strength to believe in herself, just by being there.

Lawrence (Jungwon): (His voice deepens, a subtle warmth behind his words as he steps closer.) “You’re not alone in this, Lila. Not anymore. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

For a split second, it felt as though the scene had stopped being fiction, as if Jungwon himself wasn’t just acting but revealing a deeper part of himself. His sincerity was unmistakable. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and for a moment, you almost forgot that you were acting. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to remind yourself to stay in character.

Lila: (Her voice trembling just enough to make it feel real, her eyes searching his face.) “I... I’m scared, Lawrence. What if I’m not enough for you? What if I’m just some joke to you?”

He took a step closer, closing the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat.

Lawrence (Jungwon): (His voice firm, a promise in his words.) “Then I’ll be enough for both of us.” (He reaches out, gently cupping her cheek.) “This isn’t a game, Lila. I’m not here for some joke. I’m here for you.”

The line was so simple, so full of promise. And yet, in that moment, it felt like the most powerful declaration you had ever heard. The tension between the two characters—no, between you and Jungwon—was growing stronger with every passing second.

Lila: (Her heart racing, her voice a whisper.) “Are you sure? This... all of this feels too good to be true.”

Lawrence (Jungwon): (Stepping closer, his breath almost mingling with hers, his voice tender and serious.) “I’m sure, Lila. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The scene continued, each word flowing naturally, each touch, each exchange building the emotion. But nothing could have prepared you for what happened next.

As the final scene began to unfold, your characters stood face to face, the final lines lingering in the air. The tension had shifted. It wasn’t just the chemistry of the characters anymore—it was the undeniable pull between the two of you. Your heart pounded as you spoke the last few lines, your voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Lila: (Softly, her voice trembling.) “Is this... is this really goodbye?”

Lawrence (Jungwon): (His expression a mix of sadness and longing as he steps closer.) “No. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

And in that split second, just as the final words should have left your mouth, Jungwon did something unexpected. He didn’t wait for the cue. Instead, without a word, he leaned in toward you, closing the space between you until his face was mere inches from yours. The audience gasped as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek—soft, fleeting, but full of emotion.

You froze. The script hadn’t called for it. No one had prepared you for this. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it felt as though time itself had stopped. The kiss—completely unplanned—was full of unspoken meaning. It was a promise. A confession. It was everything he hadn’t said on stage, but everything his eyes had been telling you all along.

When Jungwon pulled back slightly, he met your gaze with a softness you had never seen before. His eyes were vulnerable, as though he had just exposed something deep within himself that he wasn’t ready to share with anyone else. Then he adjusted his lavalier microphone slightly away from his mouth as he leans into you again.

“This wasn’t on your script... but it was on mine,” he whispered to your ear. It was barely inaudible that you wouldn’t believe he said that.

The words settled over you like a spark, igniting something inside your chest. You couldn’t speak. The world had shifted in that single moment. The play—everything—had suddenly become something so much more. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and the connection between your characters now felt so real.

The audience had fallen silent, their eyes wide in shock, but you didn’t notice them. You didn’t hear the applause. All that mattered was Jungwon, standing there before you. The final scene had ended, but in that moment, it felt like the true beginning of something neither of you had expected.

As the curtain began to close, you stood side by side with him, your heart racing. The play was over, but it didn’t feel like an ending. Not to you. Not to Jungwon. Not anymore. You both knew, without saying another word, that this wasn’t just a performance. It was real. This connection, this feeling, this chemistry—it was something that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. And now, you were finally seeing it for what it was.

As you walked off stage, the weight of the moment seemed to cling to you, like the lingering echo of a song that you couldn't forget. The applause rang in your ears, distant and muted, as if you were in another world, separated from the reality that had once felt so familiar. The connection you shared with Jungwon—it was no longer just a performance. It was something raw, something real. And as your footsteps echoed through the backstage corridor, you couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was just the beginning.

Jungwon slowed his pace beside you, his steps in perfect sync with yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. The smile he gave you was soft, almost hesitant, but his eyes—they were full of something you hadn’t seen before. There was no pretension, no calculated charm. Just a quiet sincerity that spoke volumes.

"I didn't mean for it to be like this," he said, his voice low, but it carried with it the weight of everything unsaid. “I should’ve told you sooner. All the things I was too scared to say before, all the things that kept me from being honest with you...”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what to say. But Jungwon didn’t wait for your response. His hand reached out, brushing lightly against your arm, his fingers grazing your skin like a question that hadn’t been answered.

“I don’t want to leave things unfinished,” he continued, his voice now firm, but his gaze vulnerable. “And I don’t want to go on pretending that I don’t feel this... whatever this is between us. I know I’ve been an idiot. I didn’t want to mess this up... But I can’t keep pretending anymore.” He took a breath, stepping even closer. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And not just as some role in a play or as some unspoken dream. I... I like you. All of you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath with you. His words, raw and unguarded, hit you in a way you never expected. It was more than just the confession—it was the vulnerability, the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn’t hiding anymore.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he stepped closer, his voice softening as he leaned in again, this time closer than before. “You deserve to know the truth. Not just as an actor, not just as someone I worked with, but as someone who means something more than I ever let on. I never wanted to hurt you, and I’m sorry for making you feel like you didn’t matter.”

The silence between you stretched out for what felt like an eternity, and in that moment, everything else—everything that had once mattered—faded away. You took a shaky breath, the words finally bubbling to the surface. “Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I... I didn’t know what to think, what to believe. But hearing you say this now, I—”

Before you could finish, he gently cupped your face, his touch warm and steady. He smiled, that familiar, charming smile you’d seen a thousand times before, but now it felt like it carried a weight of meaning that it never had.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Just know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere… for now.”

Your heart was racing, and you nodded slowly, your chest swelling with emotions you had kept hidden for far too long.

Just as the moment felt like it was about to crescendo into something you couldn’t quite grasp, a voice interrupted from the shadows of the backstage.

“Hey, you two!” Riki’s voice was loud, teasing, and unmistakable as he stepped into the light, a grin plastered on his face. He caught the glance between you and Jungwon and immediately raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this tension about, huh? You guys didn’t think the play was over, did you?”

Jungwon stepped back slightly, a small chuckle escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair, though his gaze never left yours. "We were just wrapping up... some things."

Riki’s grin softened, his playful expression giving way to something more sincere as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You two…” he said, glancing between you and Jungwon, his eyes knowing. “You don’t have to explain. It’s about time.”

The weight of Riki’s words settled between the three of you, and in that moment, everything clicked into place. Riki wasn’t just the supportive friend. He was the one who understood—who had always known, even when the two of you hadn’t. It was a relief, in a way, to have that acknowledgment, that understanding.

“I guess we’ll see where this goes then,” Jungwon said, his voice soft but confident, his gaze returning to you, full of meaning.

Riki gave a playful roll of his eyes before clapping Jungwon on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t mess this up, alright?” he teased, but there was warmth in his words, a reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

"See you around, boss."

You couldn’t help but smile, a weight lifting off your shoulders. It was clear now. No more games, no more pretending. This was real. And as the three of you stood there, a sense of closure washed over you—the play was over, but this new chapter? It was just beginning.

And maybe, just maybe, it was going to be everything you had always wanted.

permanent taglist: @tinycatharsis @han-to-my-minho @1starqi @wensurr @yjwonsgf @lovestruck-moonlight @leah-rose03 @kanonjji @kyunlov @somuchdard @seongiewon @luumiinaa @enhaverse713586 @lynanist @cakuqe @hhyvsstuff @gardenwons @frankenstein852 @firstclassjaylee @lamin143 @serenadehera @elove2047

hello guys! i haven't had the chance to reply to each of you under my paramedic jungwon fic. but this taglist will be the one I'll be using for the series! lmk if you want to be removed from the permanent taglist, I'll still add you to the paramedic jungwon taglist nonetheless <3

send me an ask or reply if you wanna be part of the tl! love youuu! happy holidays <333

[a-confused-spoon]

...y'know, it's not just the fact that Caitlyn knows Viktor, but the fact that this Caitlyn met this Viktor

I know I already talked about this, but like- HELLO??!

Mind you, Caitlyn isn't just a little sister to Jayce, her parents are also Jayce's patrons and her mother works with Heimerdinger (who Viktor used to work for) on the Council- the Council that basically dictated what kind of use hextech was going to serve in Piltover for however long the timeskip was (as said by Jayce in 1x04), so there's no way these two didn't have at least a couple interactions once Viktor becomes Jayce's partner.

Tell you what, I think these two vibed pretty well too.

First thing first, I just know Caitlyn treated the idea of meeting Viktor the exact same way a younger sibling wants to meet their older sibling's crush; "yeah I need to meet this so-deemed super cool person so I can shit-talk about you to them 'cause it's fun, but also what makes them so special to you and/or so stupid they'd want to spend time with you, allegedly?" type of deal. And there's more to this too 'cause- no wait, I really need to stress this point:

I think it's safe to assume Caitlyn didn't have many friends growing up, if any at all, and Jayce (who's what, twice her age?) is seemingly the only person she shared a bond with where she didn't have to pretend to be someone she didn't feel she was, which only became more and more a thing as time went by.

And everything is fine until the events of 1x02: there's an explosion, Jayce is put away, there's a trial and all of the sudden she's lost her big brother under no explanation other than "he's a misfit and you can't be friends with him anymore", and as far as she knows, Jayce will no longer be in her life and will likely give up all his hard work. She lost her best friend and he lost his purpose in life, all in the span of a single day.

...and then, the very next day, everything seems to be fine again? There's a Council meeting, she's allowed to be cool with Jayce again and when she asks what the fuck happened to this man he opens with "So there's this guy...".

I can only imagine little Caitlyn's thoughts whilst she was processing all the new info: "Okay so you're telling me there's a guy with a funny accent, Piltover's most important person's ex assistant, who I nor anyone's ever heard of nor seen for some forsaken reason, who you met literally last night and he sweet talked you into not giving up because it didn't work when I tried- rude but okay- and then he convinced you to commit a crime to help you complete the research my parents funded? When you were already at risk of exile? And that research was super personal to you specifically, but now it's a you guys' thing? And he's from the- WAIT, HE'S FROM THE UNDERCITY?!!"

'Cause Caitlyn was curious about the undercity as a kid too, innocently so; you're telling her she has the opportunity to talk with someone who didn't just go there, but used to live there? Someone who managed to get where he is with nothing other than the sheer power of will?!

Meeting this Viktor guy is no longer just a little "I wish", it becomes a fucking mission.

...meanwhile Viktor's barely aware the Kirammans have a daughter to begin with.

I mean- he does know, but just because Jayce mentioned her a couple times, perhaps forgetting to mention her being a 14 year-old.

Not that Viktor would give a shit either way, he isn't really fond of anyone in Piltover (aside from Jayce, Heimerdinger and Sky) and the likely spoiled heir of an ultra-rich family is no exception to this, regardless of age. However, she is close to Jayce, and her extremely important family is funding what is also his research now, so he's like "whatever, I guess I'll be as cordial as I can with this miss Caitlyn if I ever meet her".

Which happened, at a certain point in time.

I think Viktor was pleasantly surprised to find out that this good hearted and fairly smart girl was also very curious to know more about the undercity- perhaps he's taken a little aback at first; she is a councilor's daughter and he has to pay attention to what he says around her after all. But at the same time, she is a councilor's daughter and if she's so well intended then why not answer truthfully to her questions when she could, one day, help through her family's influence?

And on the other side, little Caitlyn absolutely adores Viktor, and not just because he's witty and has a funny accent, but because Viktor talks to her like she's an adult.

Cait isn't really used to this sort of treatment, but of course Viktor doesn't address her like a clueless child that needs protection from the real word: that's a privilege the kids in Zaun aren't really given, and they are no less important than her. Besides, what's the harm?

It's also great because whenever the Kirammans organize a ceremony of sorts to celebrate some new hextech achievement as Jayce's patrons, Caitlyn and Viktor would manage to chat separately from the rest of the obnoxiously rich guests, so she doesn't have to feel out of place or babied and he doesn't have to be at the centre of attention as Jayce's partner. Viktor would also get a healthy dose of rich people gossip through little Cait's unintentional open disdain for the environment her parents keep her in, and the only reason why Caitlyn allows herself to lower her guard when talking about it is because she knows damn well that Viktor both probably agrees and has no intention nor reason to tell anyone. If anything, he just comments sarcastically to most stories, and she's happy she can share them with someone who won't say "now now, don't say that about so and so".

And of course, whenever Caitlyn comes to visit them in the lab (not a very common occurrence since the 1x01 accident), Jayce is just happy to see them getting along... whenever Caitlyn isn't whispering something to Viktor while they both look at him, at least.

[cherrygirlfriend]

is it new years yet? pairing: reader x neighbor!rafe synopsis: seeing your old neighbor on christmas during your break leads to you going down memory lane - and into each other's pants. warnings: smut, spit play, degradation, piv, unprotected sex, MDNI wc: 2.4k inspired by 'is it new years yet?' by sabrina carpenter and me being the only one single in my family during christmas. fun fact; i wrote half of this while celebrating christmas with my family and the other half on my way home. enjoy!

everything in life comes with pros and cons; the same applies to being the youngest in your family.

your two sisters and your brother all came to christmas with their significant others; you came with the hangover you were nursing from going out for drinks with some of your high school friends.

your oldest sister just had her first child. your other sister had just gotten married, and your brother brought his girlfriend of two years, that he was planning on proposing to.

you? the closest thing you'd come to something even resembling a relationship was a fling with a guy who ended up ghosting you after telling you he loved you. and although your new nephew was adorable, everyone around you being in relationships made you feel utterly alone.

as mariah carey's 'all i want for christmas is you' played in the speakers for the fifth time that night and you were served another slice of the mediocre fruitcake, you felt like taking the knife set down in front of you and making your eye socket it's new home, the urge only worsened by the words your eldest sister uttered.

"so, do you have a boyfriend?" she asked in a sing-songy voice, looking at you with an inquisitive look on her face, and you knew the comment was meant to be goodhearted, but all it managed to do was make you irritated; your relatives always knew what to say to piss you off.

you swallowed the remaining food in your mouth, "nope."

"what do you mean? you're gorgeous. there's gotta be someone who's into you!" your other sister exclaimed, rubbing salt in the wound. all you wanted was to forget that you were the only one at home with no one to hold. you just wished it was new years already.

your family didn't even notice when you slipped away from them to the patio that wrapped around your large house, hanging your head and your upper body over the railing, your hair dangling in the air as you let out a long breath that you'd held the entire time you'd spent in your family's company, feeling the blood rush to your head as you stared at your legs through the wide holes in the railing.

"you know that could kill you, right?"

you heard a smug voice say, one that was eerily familiar, and your suspicions over who it belonged to were confirmed when you lifted yourself up, your hair flipping and your eyes landing on none other than rafe cameron.

rafe cameron. a name that you never wished to even have to think about, a face you never wanted to have to look at. he had been your neighbor your entire life up until you moved for college, and he'd always enjoyed making your life hell.

"for that, i'm pretty sure i'd have to hang here for longer than fifteen seconds, but thanks for the unwanted medical advice, cameron. why are you creeping around our backyard?"

"aw, you didn't miss me?" he said with feigned sympathy as he slowly ascended the steps leading onto the porch, a small pout on his face.

"what's there to miss? you being a dick?"

rafe tutted, looking at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, "see, the last time things were about my dick, you didn't seem that hostile."

...oh.

"that was a mistake." you said, trying your best not to make your voice shake, rolling your shoulders back and straightening your spine to try and seem confident, but he simply chuckled.

"you seem to make a lot of mistakes."

as he said those words, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to all the times you'd let him pin you against the wall of a small, skeevy janitor's closet that smelled of clorox and your mingling hormones, or the way he'd made you plead and beg before he'd let you come undone, coating his fingers in your creamy liquids.

but it felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over your head when those memories blended with ones where he'd said such cruel words about you, and then saying the same things in private, in such a different way.

"god, you're such a slut." he'd scoff, shaking his head as he looked from topper to kelce, both boys laughing at his words.

"god, you're such a slut..." he'd whisper against your skin as his long digits hit the spongy spot deep inside you, "such a good little slut f'me..."

you cleared your throat, your hand traveling to fiddle with the pearl earring in your ear, rolling it around between your thumb and your forefinger to try and not to focus on the way you had to shift from one foot to another, not wanting the wetness that was beginning to gather between your legs to stick your panties to your pussy. "what are you doing here, cameron?"

"i heard you were back in town. wanted to come see you."

his words made you roll your eyes, "last time i checked, we weren't exactly friends, cameron."

your eyes widened when his hand slid behind your back and he pulled your body flush to his, your heart hammering against your chest like someone was doing renovation inside your body. you didn't want to have these reactions for the man, but your body was betraying you.

"and last time i checked, the nickname you liked to use for me wasn't cameron."

"i'm never using that name for you again." you said, trying not to let your voice waver, to stay strong in what you knew to be the best thing for you to do, to not show how much you wanted him to ruin you in the way you hadn't been ruined in so long.

"i bet i could make you." rafe's lips were so close to yours that you could feel the breaths he let out as he whispered those words.

"bet you-"

before you could finish your sentence, the hot lips you used to know so well were once again on yours, and just like all those times, you gave into it, gave into him way too easily, your lips parting almost automatically to allow rafe's tongue into your mouth.

rafe pushed you against the wall, his hand creeping down from your waist to under the hem of your skirt, his fingers traveling up your thigh painfully slowly, your body so attuned to his it's like you can feel every small ridge, as well as the bones and veins of his fingers. he always loved taking his time, loved making you suffer, loved making you feel like you were going to explode if you didn't have him right at that moment.

"i've missed this so much..." rafe mumbled as his lips moved from your lips, slowly meeting your neck, the small nips he left behind causing your breath to hitch, his other hand groping your tit through your bra, and it reminded you of all the times he'd treat you like shit in front of others, only to pull you into a dark corner and manhandle you, and how much you loved it.

you arched into rafe's touch as his fingers teased the edge of your panties, and when his fingers only brushed against the wet spot in your panties, you let out a small whine, and you knew he was thriving from how easy it was for him to make you come undone.

"tell me you want me..." he mumbled against your neck as his hand started circling your clit through your panties, making them cling to your panties.

it was the last thing you wanted to say; but your vocal chords disagreed with you. it was like the warm feeling in your stomach was controlling everything you did, everything you felt, everything you thought.

"i want you..." you managed to breathe out, the man adding pressure onto his finger as he continued rolling your clit.

"say it."

"i wa-"

"not that." rafe delivered a sharp smack to your pussy and you gasped at the small squelching noise it'd caused, "call me what you used to call me."

"rafe..."

he brought the same hand that had slapped your pussy, and slapped your cheek, making you wince. it wasn't hard, but rafe always knew how to push your buttons. rafe grabbed your jaw, making you look up at him.

"say it."

"s-sir..." you whispered, your cheeks burning with shame, and you were overtaken with thoughts of all the things he had done to get you to call you that, but rafes lips twisted into a wicked grin.

"awww, such a good little slut." he cooed mockingly, "open your mouth." hesitantly, you opened your mouth further, rafe gathering some saliva onto his lips before he spit it into your mouth, enjoying the look of pure humiliation on your face as he watched you swallow it. "pull up your skirt."

you pulled up your skirt, your face still burning hot from humiliation as you looked up, wanting to look anywhere but at him, feeling rafe's long fingers on the waistband of your panties, the fabric starting to detach from your folds, rafe's breathing getting heavier.

you were attacked by sensations when rafe's lips ravenously attached themselves to your cunt, your head throwing back in pleasure as he basically made out with your sopping wet folds, your hand going to his buzzcut, reminding you of the way you used to grip onto the douchey haircut he used to have, on a boy who didn't look quite as defined as the man currently devouring you.

when you felt his tongue circling your entrance, dipping in and out of you teasingly, your walls started clenching around nothing, the world around you might as well have disappeared and turned into heaven. rafe detached himself from your pussy, and as you looked down at him drowsily, rafe's pupils were dilated, his lips covered in your arousal, the man looking like he'd gotten drunk just from tasting you.

"i missed my girl..." rafe murmured, pressing gentle kisses on your pussy, "she still gets so fucking wet f'me... she probably misses my cock so bad... you probably haven't found anyone who fills my princess up like i do, have you?"

"n-no..." you stuttered, making rafe tsk.

"that won't work. she gotta remember who her daddy is."

rafe lifted you up by the back of your thighs, causing you to let out a small squeal as your arms flew to hold on to the back of his neck, only for him to turn around, taking a few steps and placing you onto the edge of the railing, starting to unbuckle his belt.

"rafe, we're on my patio..."

"so?" he chuckled, his hands on his zipper, "it's not like outside of your house is the most scandalous place where we've had fun, is it?"

your cheeks started warming up when you remembered all the places where rafe had managed to get you to give in to him, where you'd begged for him to touch you in the way only he knew how to.

rafe pulled his trousers down, his cock bulging in his calvin kleins, a small wet spot visible on the white fabric until he tugged his boxers down just enough to free his cock, giving it slow, languid strokes. "tell me how you've much you want me inside of you..."

as you looked down at his cock, your tongue between your teeth, you felt hunger like never before; you couldn't care that you were outside your house and anyone could walk in at any moment, or that rafe was an asshole, the only thing you cared about was the way his cock felt inside you, the way it reached something in you no one else managed to, the thing you'd spent various nights trying to mimic with your rabbit toy, to no avail.

"so bad..." you choke out, and although it was the god-honest truth, it felt like the words were razorblades coming up your throat, only made better by the feeling the tip of rafe's cock rubbing on your clit, the man drawing circles on it like he was creating a masterpiece instead of just teasing the hell out of you. "please..."

he slid his length down your plump folds, making you held your breath as you waited to feel him invade you, only for rafe to stop at your entrance. if you were able to even think at that moment, you would've simply pulled him closer to you, but with rafe, he always held all the cards. he knew how to control you.

but the moment you felt only the head of his cock enter you, your vision was blurred. one of rafe's hands moved to grab the flesh of your ass while the other one still held you up. as he starts moving further into you, you let out a mewl that was meant to be his name but ended up being incomprehensible. it was like he was fucking made for you, like his cock was shaped just to fit inside you like a puzzle.

"my baby's still so fuckin' tight..." rafe rasped, and what started as a calm pace turned into him slamming all of himself into you, and if he didn't keep moving inside of you, you could've sworn you died the moment the head of his cock was slammed against your cervix.

"still such a good little slut f'me, hm?"

you rolled your hips against his, every thrust feeling more and more delicious; and like always, you forgot everything. you forgot who you were, where you were, what this was. none of it mattered. nothing, but him.

rafe's thumb moved to circle your clit as he continued rolling his hips into you, timing every slam to your cervix with a roll of your clit, making you ascend. he knew you, and he knew just what to do to make you weak, to make you his.

you tried to tell him you were close, that you were coming, but all that'd leave your lips were incomprehensible moans.

rafe moaned when he felt your walls tightening, pulsing around his cock, a sound so delicious you wished you could've recorded so you could touch yourself to it, yet he continued his movements in you, only now much slower and with much more groaning due to the muscles clenching around him.

"g'na come in you..." rafe mumbled against your shoulder, and you squealed and nearly screamed, when the head of his cock pressed against your cervix mid-orgasm. "f-fuck, you still feel so fucking good..."

he stilled inside of you, pulling your body even closer to his, letting out a groan, and although you couldn't feel it due to the intensity of your orgasm, you knew rafe had just delivered on his promise.

[amirasainz]

Oh, I'm sorry, but my ideas for Leclerc's stepsister are in my head and there are so many of them, I don't have the nerve to send them all, but... I just want her to be very different from baby Sainz, she was very independent, hardly accepted help, was a little (and sometimes a lot) shy, defiant, but at the same time for the Leclair brothers she was a princess, and their parents wanted to enjoy the fact that everything was fine

With love from CH 💜

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl ♥️

No Part 2!

Independent, but Loved

It was a typical sunny afternoon in Monaco, and the house was alive with the sound of chatter and laughter. Yn was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her manicured nails clicking against her phone screen as she scrolled through her social media feed. The comments on her latest post were already piling up.

@queenYnislife: “She fixed her car and still looks better than me. HOW??”

@monaco_royalty: “Yn, the real princess of Monaco. Bow down, everyone.”

She smirked at the comments and tapped her nails thoughtfully against her chin. "You know," she said, her voice laced with playful sarcasm, "I should start a DIY YouTube channel. 'Fixing Cars with Yn.' I'd show everyone how to slay while being a mechanic."

From across the living room, Arthur groaned. "Yn, you didn't fix the car."

She raised an eyebrow at her 19-year-old stepbrother, her dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Excuse me, mechanic Arthur. I literally fixed it myself. My nails were covered in grease for days!"

Lorenzo, the oldest at 25, laughed as he walked into the room, carrying a tray of drinks. "Oh, princesa, you really think that car is still the same one?"

Yn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Arthur leaned forward, unable to suppress his grin. "We got you a new car."

Her jaw dropped. "No, you didn't!"

"Yes, we did," Lorenzo confirmed with a shrug, his grin widening. "Do you honestly think you ‘fixed’ a blown engine with a wrench and some nail polish remover?"

Charles, who had just walked in after a training session, leaned against the doorway with an amused look. "To be fair, you were very convincing with your grease-smudged selfies."

Yn stared at her brothers, utterly scandalized. "Wait a second. You mean all my TikToks about ‘fixing’ the car were based on a lie?"

Arthur snorted. "Pretty much, yeah."

"You guys distracted me?" Yn accused, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Charles.

Charles threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Guilty. But it was Lorenzo's idea!"

Lorenzo chuckled, clearly unbothered. "You deserved a better car, princesa. That old one wasn’t safe anymore."

Yn crossed her arms and pouted, her glossy lips forming a perfect little scowl. "You could have told me instead of treating me like a clueless baby."

"You're not clueless," Arthur said quickly, his tone softening. "We just wanted to make sure you were safe. You know we only do these things because we care about you, right?"

Her pout melted into a small smile. "Fine. But I'm still mad that you lied to me."

"We'll make it up to you," Charles promised. "How about dinner on me tonight? Wherever you want."

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

Yn grinned, her previous annoyance already forgotten. "Okay, but you’re paying for dessert too."

"Deal," Charles said, ruffling her hair.

---

That evening, as they all sat around a table at Yn’s favorite restaurant, their parents, Pascal and João, joined in on the fun. Pascal raised his glass, a proud smile on his face. "To my incredible children. I love seeing how well you all take care of each other."

"Even if it means pulling off elaborate car heists," Yn teased, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

João, always the peacemaker, smiled warmly at her. "They just want to make sure you're happy and safe, filha."

"I know," Yn said, her voice softening. "And I love you guys for it. But don’t think this gets you off the hook for messing with me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Great, here we go."

Yn smirked, leaning back in her chair like the queen she was. "Just wait until I prank you back. The internet will love it."

Lorenzo groaned. "Please, no more viral chaos."

"You should know by now," Yn said with a wink, "I am chaos."

Charles sighed dramatically. "And we wouldn’t have it any other way."

As the evening went on, the teasing and laughter continued. Yn, their sarcastic and fiercely independent little sister, was their princess. And while she might never let them forget their sneaky car replacement, the love and bond between them was unshakeable.

They were, after all, family.

[lvis44]

Cabin Fever - Pt. 3 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Lewis being an ass, allusions to mental health struggles, 18+ MINORS DNI, not edited

Word Count: 5.3k+

Summary: He's your Sister in Laws best friend, you shouldn't even have to deal with him. Always seeming like a cocky arrogant prick, and now here he is crashing your family Christmas. Can you handle a full week of Lewis Hamilton? Or might he not actually be as bad as he seems?

Notes: A bit more drama for you guys tonight but this is nothing compared to what we've got coming up, oopsie lol. Hoping to get the next part out quickly so it kinda aligns with the holidays in real time! I would also formally like to start an important conversation about why the hell this man only seems to own winter jackets the color of a highlighter (im sure it's for safety when snowboarding but pls). I love you all and I'm so happy you guys are enjoying our angsty little Christmas fic!

As always, I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

**italics are a jump back in time**

The moment you make your way downstairs the next morning you are ready to turn and run back up to your room. You can hear everyone in the kitchen already, much to your surprise. Their voices are much louder than you would have wanted but you carry on, aware that the only way you’re getting coffee is by showing your face in there.

“Well good morning sleepy head! I was wondering when you’d show up.” Your dad greets you warmly.

“Hey I was up long before any of you yesterday.” You argue as he pulls you into a side hug.

“I do believe I was up before you.” Lewis pipes up with a smirk.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” You grumble, trying to conceal the roll of your eyes but when you meet Lewis’ gaze you know you’ve failed, “I need coffee, lots of it.”

Tom laughs from over at the coffee bar where he seems to be making himself some sort of fancy espresso, “Coming right up.”

You thank him, taking a seat next to your brother at the island, watching the chaos ensuing on the other side of the kitchen. Your mother, Beatrice, and Vanessa are in what seems to be party planning mode. They’re rummaging through cupboards and running back and forth to the fridge, Vanessa has a notebook out creating some sort of list, Beatrice is loudly reading some recipe from her phone.

“How long has this been going on?” You ask the men at the counter, trying to keep your voice low.

“About twenty minutes, they’ve probably got another twenty in them.” Lewis says, picking up his coffee and watching the scene himself.

You let out a deep breath, already exhausted by the amount of energy flowing through the room, praying you don’t somehow get sucked into it as well.

“Y/N, thank goodness you’re up!” Vanessa says excitedly, finally noticing your presence on one of her trips around the kitchen.

“Good Morning.” You respond softly, trying not to allow any chance of being roped into whatever is going on.

“So,” Vanessa's voice comes out chipper and matter of fact as she puts her palms down on the counter, evidently ready to give you the full run down, “I felt so bad yesterday, I had so many things planned for a fancy breakfast and the weather just had to ruin it all so I really want to make up for all of it today. Thank you again for pulling that off yesterday, I was so grateful, but I want a big fancy family brunch, we haven't had one in so so long and I’ve been thinking about it since I started planning this trip. And I don’t want it to be our Christmas morning brunch, I want it to be its own special moment, ya know?”

You can tell that your eyebrows have gotten higher on your forehead with every word that she has said, speaking faster than you could ever comprehend at the early hour. You hear your brother take a deep breath from next to you as Lewis chuckles lowly.

“I’m sure it will be wonderful, very talented ladies doing the cooking.” Tom tells his daughter before setting a delicious smelling cup of coffee down in front of you, “Here you go Y/N.”

“Thank you, it smells fantastic.” You say sincerely, happily wrapping your chilly hands around the warm cup.

“It better, I brought my own beans and everything. That should be the best cup of coffee you’ve had in your life.” He tells you proudly.

“It was a phenomenal cup of coffee.” Lewis says with an amused smile on his face, one that Tom seems to read as more genuine than you think it really is.

“Very good, very very good.” Dylan is quickly agreeing.

“Now listen,” Vanessa’s voice is quick to grab your attention again, “you did such an amazing job yesterday with breakfast and then helping with all the storm cleanup,”

Before she can finish Lewis lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff, cutting her off, “I don’t know if I would call whatever she was doing yesterday helping.” His voice is muffled by the rim of his coffee mug but you can hear the cheek to his voice, more teasing than the jabby tone it usually carries for you, you assume it's because of the current company.

You open your mouth to defend yourself but your brother is joining in quickly, “I mean she made a valiant effort but I do think I have to agree with Lewis on this one.” He’s laughing as he pinches at your side.

You try to find the right words to argue your defense but you realize you really can’t, thinking back to your ways of helping the day before. 

You had started strong, initially heading out after breakfast to try to clean up all the branches that had been blown into the yard, that lasted for only twenty minutes before Lewis and Dylan were getting the plow and skidoo out of the garage. Once the big toys were out you had no more interest in your handheld rake and shovel. You had gone over to inspect the new fun equipment but were quickly shooed away by both Lewis and your brother, both claiming you were going to get in the way and possibly end up hurting yourself. You had accepted defeat, heading back to your sad pile of branches before once again getting quite distracted by the fun sound of the engine on the skidoo. You had done your best to act as if you were still working but you had ended up watching Lewis zip around the yard for much longer than you would have liked to admit. There was something about his level of both control and chaos behind the handlebars that scratched your brain just right and it irked you and brought you immense satisfaction all at once. Once your brother had gotten into the swing of plowing, Lewis following him down the hill to keep Vanessa's mind at ease, you had gotten back to your sad attempt at branch removal, by the time they made it back up to the house you were collecting your armful. 

“Y/N you do know that it’s been a full hour and you don’t even have enough sticks to make a mouse a campfire, right?” Lewis had taunted you when he saw you walking across the driveway as he removed his goggles, your brother laughing as he hopped out of the plow.

“Oh fuck off, at least I was doing something, you were just joyriding.” You said sassily, quickly changing course so you weren’t walking directly past him.

“I,” He started, his voice long and drawn out to dramatically make his point, “was keeping your brother safe. The buddy system is very important, you know.”

“A knight in shining,” You started to say but before you could get the whole sentence out you were falling flat on your ass, your abysmal stick pile flying everywhere.

“Woah Y/N, shit you alright?” Your brother was quick to react, leaving his open truck door to run over to you.

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Lewis huffed out, also quickly making his way over to you.

They had both been there within an instant, squatting next to you to make sure you were alright. Your brother was handling you like fine china even though he could tell you were okay, Lewis however was immediately giving you shit.

“You do realize we’ve been here for like twelve hours and this is the second time you’ve fallen in front of me, right?” The tone of his voice was unamused despite offering you his hand to help pull you up.

“I did not fall last night.” You had tried to defend yourself as he got you to your feet, your brother still giving you a worried look like he thought you had secretly broken something.

“Because I caught you.” He had quickly pointed out.

“Whatever.” You grumbled as you bent down to collect your stick pile, admittedly leaving a good half of them behind before once again heading toward your brother's brush pile off by the shed. Before you could even make it half way, a very well aimed snowball was colliding with your ass cheek, once again knocking the sticks out of your arms. 

“I am going to fucking kill you.’ You had exclaimed loudly, quickly gathering a large armload of snow to form into your own snowball before turning around and whipping it in their direction. You ended up hitting your brother, immediately feeling a little bad because you assumed it had come from Lewis in the first place. Lewis let out a cackle when the snowball hit your brother, evidently pleased that he hadn’t been the one to get in trouble.

“Oh hell no, that was meant for you.” Dylan had said, also laughing but incredibly serious, his own snowball already being packed tightly to whip at Lewis. Much to your pleasure, Dylan was much closer to Lewis and was much stronger than you so you could tell the impact didn’t feel amazing when it finally slapped into his chest.

“I just thought you should put some ice on it after that fall, I was trying to be helpful.” Lewis laughed as he put his arms up to guard himself from any further snowballs being sent his way. You and your brother exchanged a look, both of you loading up again, hurling snow in Lewis’ direction.

He screamed as he turned to run, his snow gear making him much less agile than he would normally be. He had finally found steady footing, his own snowballs being sent in both of your directions, all three of you in a fit of laughter. Somewhere along the line your alliance with your brother had crumbled, his snowballs being sent your way as well, no longer reserved for just Lewis. By the time you finally called truce you had all been absolutely soaked, your stomachs hurting from laughing so hard and your pile of sticks long forgotten. When you made your way back to the house you had found yourself very surprised at how playful and fun that time with Lewis had been but you decided that it must have been a bit of a fluke, knowing it wouldn’t last the rest of the day.

You try to think of a way to argue your defense but you have to admit to yourself that you really can’t, you truthfully didn’t do any actual storm cleanup yesterday.

“It’s the thought that counts, I tried.” You grumble into your mug as the two men laugh.

“Well, either way, you absolutely slayed it with breakfast and putting up with them,” Vanessa gives you a smirk, trying to take away their ammunition, “so I want you to just relax this morning, Moms and I will take care of all things brunch, you just enjoy the pretty scenery and your amazing coffee.”

You smile at her, mouthing a thank you, grateful that you are not expected to be part of the brunch circus that is unfolding in the kitchen before you. Your mother and Beatrice are still frantically figuring out if they have everything for some recipe that they have selected. You sit back, watching as Vanessa returns to her chaos with your mothers, seeming weirdly at home within it. Tom and your father begin loudly discussing just where Tom is sourcing his coffee beans, raising the volume of the kitchen just that much more. You go to turn to your brother, only to find him standing from his seat to rinse out his coffee cup. Lewis is grabbing his phone and eagerly taking a call, leaving the room rapidly. You let out a sigh, choosing to make your way into the den with your coffee, hoping for some level of peace in there. The room is cozy, a fire already going and a light snow falling outside the large windows. You try to settle into one of the plush couches but as you sit there you feel yourself growing more and more aggravated. On one side you can hear your family in the kitchen, all talking loudly about different subjects that don’t even meld together into anything coherent, on the other side you can hear Lewis’ muffled voice on the phone. You can’t actually make out anything that he’s speaking about but the low timbre is enough to be disruptive. You find it hard to believe that in a house of this size you can’t find any silence, yet here you are, you shouldn’t be shocked with it being your family. You decide you can only take so much and come to the conclusion that you would rather be out in the cold and quiet than in here with the chatter. You take your coffee and head off to the foyer to find your winter gear to bundle up, the better idea of just going to your room nowhere to be seen in your head. You get as cozy as possible, grabbing a blanket out of the den before heading back to the kitchen.

“I think I’m just gonna go sit out back for a little while and appreciate the view while I have my coffee.” You awkwardly announce as you make your way to the backdoor, raising your blanket in your hand as you do.

“That sounds absolutely lovely, enjoy yourself!” Beatrice exclaims, overly enthusiastic about your plans.

When you first step out of the house you begin to question your plans, the cold air immediately hitting your face and wrapping you in an unforgiving cocoon, but the moment the door closes behind you, you’re at peace. The door seals your family and their loud chatter away wonderfully, just the gentle howl of the wind and small noises of things falling in the forest left to be heard. You make your way across the covered deck, settling into one of the luxurious outdoor couches overlooking the large backyard and forest. You snuggle as far as possible into your blanket, trying to keep as much of your body heat as possible. You can feel a deep sigh leave your body as you take in your surroundings, admitting to yourself that as much as you hate winter, you do love the beauty of the blanketing of snow. You sit in silence for a while, just sipping your coffee and enjoying the peaceful way the world is waking up, the snow falling gently. It sadly doesn’t take long for your silence to be interrupted, the door opening behind you. You let out a huff when you see who is making their way outdoors.

“Ocupado.” You say sassily as you turn your attention back out to the view in front of you.

Lewis just scoffs, making his way over to sit on one of the couches near you.

“Seriously, I just need some silence. Do you have nowhere else to go?” You groan childishly, seeing him settling into his seat.

“I let you get warm in front of my fire yesterday, I think you can share the silence of your deck with me now.” He says, his voice just as sassy.

You go to argue with him, wanting to tell him that it’s not the same and his fire was in the den, a common area, but you quickly realize that this too is a common area that you have no monopoly over. You decide to bite your tongue, rolling your eyes as he settles deeper into the couch, pulling his phone out. You decide to do the same, feeling awkward staring into the trees now that you have company. It doesn’t take long before the first post from a friend is popping up on your feed. She is back in California, a small party dress on that would have you getting hypothermia here. The post is about a party that you had known would be happening, a fun Christmas get together with a bunch of your friends that you would have loved to have been at, carefree and ridiculous fun. You let out a huff as you scroll through her post, the fomo eating you alive as you do so.

“Thought you wanted silence.” Lewis grumbles from his spot at the sound of your huff, his voice already laced with annoyance. 

“So sorry to disturb you, your highness.” You fire back at him sarcastically.

“It’s just sir, I’m a knight, not technically royalty.” He replies, his voice so cocky that it makes you want to smack him, only stopping when you see the slightly teasing smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes again, not even having the energy to come up with something witty to say back to him in the moment.

“Seriously though, what’s got you in such a mood?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious, much to your surprise. 

“I’m not in a mood.” You mutter, burrowing further into your blanket, your attention back on your phone.

He lets out a chuckle at your response, “Yeah the huffing and puffing really sells that narrative well.”

“Oh shut up, you know I don’t particularly want to be here, just let it go.” You say quietly, not wanting your family to hear your disdain for your surroundings.

“I know, and me being here probably isn’t helping that, but it seemed like there was something else going on. Thought you saw something that was upsetting you.” He says casually, shrugging like it’s a normal conversation for the two of you to be having.

You’re taken aback by his casual and genuinely curious nature, not being used to anything like this from Lewis. It takes your guard down, quicker than it should. You let out a sigh, deciding, against your better judgement, to confide in him a little bit. You know he could come back with some level of snippy remark but you were prepared for that, maybe he would actually have a normal conversation with you for once. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but seeing everyone enjoying their lives as adults and doing what they want, where they want, I don’t know, it’s just driving me a bit insane.” You divulge, not getting your point across in quite the way you meant to.

He raises an eyebrow at you, evidently rather confused by what you mean, “I mean, you’re an adult, you spend 99% of the year doing what you want, where you want. What’s the problem?”

You just shake your head, deciding to instead show him the post that caused the initial huff. You watch as his brows furrow while he scrolls through the instagram post you handed him. Quickly his face turns from curious to judgemental. It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he finally hands you your phone back.

“So you’d rather be back in the smog of LA where you can’t even tell it’s Christmas, dressed in a skimpy dress with your friends? You’d prefer that to fresh mountain air, a white Christmas, and your family that loves you?” His tone is belittling as he reads the situation completely incorrectly, his questions coming out more as statements, as if nothing that you say now will change his mind.

Your jaw drops at the accusation, a loud scoff leaving your throat as you snatch your phone back from him, “How dare you, that was not the point I was trying to make.” You begin to argue before he’s cutting you off.

“You see those people all the time Y/N, how often do you see any of your family?” He raises his brow in challenge but doesn’t give you time to formulate a response before he’s carrying on, “We all know you don’t want to be here, just suck it up, a little bit of winter mountain air and family time isn’t going to kill you.” He doesn’t wait for a rebuttal, he just stands from his seat as if he’s just finished reprimanding a child and walks away, back inside.

He leaves you in your seat, silent and fuming but also leaving you feeling a tad guilty. He is correct, you don’t want to be here, but it has nothing to do with you preferring to be out in a skimpy dress in LA, it’s about your freedom. Having the freedom to do as you please and be where you want, something you haven’t had a ton of in your life. You hate that everyone knows that you would prefer to be somewhere else, making you feel as if you’re almost a burden. You hate that Lewis feels that he has the right to make such deep assumptions about you and treat them as fact and you hate even more that he feels he has the right to lecture you based on those assumptions. 

You end up staying out on the back deck much longer than you had originally planned, only finally making your way back indoors when Vanessa announces that brunch is served. You do your best to ignore him, not even looking in his direction. Instead you spend most of brunch quizzing Vanessa on things about her brunch that in all honesty you aren’t particularly interested in, but listening to Vanessa explain how he gets her eggs to fluffy is much better than having to even think about dealing with the man sitting at the other end of the table.

It irks you that you can hear him chatting so freely and happily down the table, as if he hadn’t accosted you on the porch mere hours beforehand. You find yourself already making a plan for escape before you’ve even cleared your plate.

Avoiding him throughout the rest of the day ends up being shockingly easy. You take an extra long time getting ready before helping Vanessa and your mom with some last minute gift wrapping. You can’t help but laugh when you see that Vanessa's “last minute stuff” actually appears to be a majority of her gifts, but you don’t complain, knowing it will take up more of your time, and in turn help in your game of avoidance. You can hear Lewis chatting off in the distance, your father quizzing him eagerly on his car collection after hearing he added something new. Lewis gushed with ease, thoroughly entertaining your fathers questions and while it could be considered a nice conversation you felt like it sounded arrogant, flashy. 

“Boys and their toys.” Your mom muttered with a laugh, also listening to bits of the conversation, your father now seemingly showing Lewis photos of a car he had back in the nineties.

“Tell me about it, I couldn’t for the life of me get Dylan out of that plow truck when we first bought it and the snow hadn’t even fallen yet.” Vanessa exclaims, shaking her head.

You just laugh as you lean back to stare out the window for a moment, admiring the way the world is beginning to turn blue as the sun goes down. As if he’s noticed it getting dark at the very same moment, Dylan is bursting into the room talking about Christmas lights.

“Get out, we are not finished in here Mr.” Vanessa is quickly squealing, throwing her body in front of the few remaining unwrapped gifts.

“Okay, okay,” Dylan laughs, throwing his hand over his eyes before continuing, “What I was saying is the lights in the forest look like they stayed up through the storm! It’s getting dark so I was hoping we could all take a walk out there, it’ll be beautiful.”

“That sounds nice Dyl, give us just a little time to get ready.” You say softly, eager to see the lights that have your brother so excited.

“Sweet, I’ll go let the guys know.” He says like a little kid, whipping around to go inform them of the new plans.

“He made an absolute wonderland out there, you guys are going to love it.” Vanessa says, already standing up to collect the remaining wrapping paper, shoving things away like she’s now on a time crunch.

You take that as your sign to go change and get ready for a winter walk. When you go to head upstairs you finally cross paths with Lewis who seems to be headed to his own room, you pause for a moment before flicking your gaze away and trying to move past him.

“Joining us on the walk?” He asks, his voice cold, sounding like he’s expectant of a no.

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You waver slightly, caught off guard that he had any words for you at all. You wished your voice had come out stronger, not wanting him to feel like he had any sort of upperhand, that he had gotten under your skin.

He does actually look surprised, his eyebrows twitching up in a certain judgemental look of disbelief before he is once again turning on his heel. He doesn’t say a word, just walks away to his bedroom.

When you make your way back downstairs, everyone is there and waiting. Dylan is animatedly explaining how he set up with power for the lights and how they follow all of the groomed paths in a certain pattern. Once he notices that you’re there he is directing everyone to follow him to the back yard, still explaining his tree lighting process on the way. You can’t help the grimace that leaves your body when you step outside, the temperature having dropped drastically since you were out here earlier. You try to just burrow further into your coat, not wanting to complain after being made so aware of your attitude earlier today.

As you wander the paths you find yourself mesmerized, Vanessa was right about the absolute wonderland of it all. The glittery lights look like stars, spanning higher up trees than you would like to think about your brother being, but regardless they are breathtaking. You find yourself falling away from the group a bit, too caught up in admiring the gorgeous trees and trying to keep as much of your warmth in as possible. Your family carries on walking, unaware of your sudden slow pace, Lewis however seems to notice and slows down himself. So much that you almost trip over him, having been blissfully unaware of his presence.

“You okay?” He asks you when you’re steady on your feet.

“I’m just fine Lewis.” Your voice is as cold as the outdoor air as you avoid looking in his direction.

“Well, from where I’m standing, you’re shaking like a leaf.” His tone has lost its earlier harshness but still carries that bit of arrogance as you catch him smirking at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Just wore the wrong jacket, I’ll be fine.” You argue, keeping your voice short but still pulling your thin jacket tighter. You're mentally cursing yourself for not having worn your puffer.

“Do you want to head back? I’ll walk with you.” His offer catches you off guard, his voice sincere and almost kind as he continues to stare at you, the smirk gone.

“I’m fine,” You say yet again, your voice slightly quieter now, “Dylan worked hard on this, I’ll survive.”

Just as you once again reiterate your argument a gust of wind comes through, picking up the loose snow and blowing it around you sending yet another chill directly down your spine. Lewis evidently notices the cold seeping deeper into your bones, taking it upon himself to make the decision. 

“Y/N and I are gonna head back to the house, she’s getting a little too cold, gonna get her something warm, we’ll see you guys in a bit.” He yells ahead to your family against your will. 

“Oh, hun, are you okay?” Your mother is immediately concerned.

“I’m fine, I’m not going back.” You start to insist but Lewis is stepping in yet again.

“She’s fine, just wore the wrong jacket. The lights look amazing Dylan, well come see them when she’s warmed up.” Before you can say anything he’s starting to usher you back down the path, Dylan is thanking him and Vanessa is telling you where to find more blankets. 

Lewis is guiding you down the path, his body close against your back and his grip firm on your waist as if you don’t know the way. You hate the way he is manhandling you but you have to admit you are relishing in the warmth coming from the proximity. You don’t allow it to go on for too long, wrenching yourself out of his grip once you’re far enough away from your family. You pick up your pace, both in a show of defiance and actually quite wanting to get back to the warmth of the house. You hear him let out a scoff behind you as you throw your little tantrum.

The heat of the house is immediately welcoming, wrapping around you like a hug the moment you open the door. You take a moment to let the heat sink into your bones before even moving to remove your jacket. Lewis stands there watching you for a moment, just shaking his head before taking off his own large puffer.

“What?” You groan, assuming he has a comment to make.

“You know sub zero temps usually require a little more than a flimsy fashion jacket from the mall, right?” His voice is laced with judgement again, the kindness from the forest long gone.

“Oh, would you just fuck off!” You finally properly snap, whipping your head to face him.

““I’m just saying you’re a grown adult and you’re acting like winter is gonna kill you, you can’t even prepare for it” His response is quick, his tone just as snippy as yours, dripping with arrogance.

“I have a fucking parka in my room, I didn’t know how cold it was.” You throw back at him.

“Mmm sure, or you just wanted to look good for the little walk.” He accuses you, his tone condescending.

“Look good for who? I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere!” You fully yell at him, finally done with his jabs.

He ignores the question, his voice raising but not yet actually yelling, “Have you ever considered that maybe it’s good for you to be in the middle of nowhere once in a while?”

“I do not need some asshole who doesn’t even know me giving me fucking life advice, thank you very much.” You snap, no longer yelling but your voice is harsh.

“Well maybe you do because from where I’m standing you would rather be back in LA partying with your friends to post on Instagram than at your brother's beautiful new house with your whole family that loves you. They fucking want you here and you get to fucking see them, stop acting like its pulling fucking teeth for you to be here.” He actually yells this time, momentarily stunning you.

“Why do you even fucking care so much?” You just about scream, praying that your family is still far away from the house. The two of you haven’t even made it out of the foyer yet.

He just stares at you, his eyes hard and his chest heaving slightly. He opens his mouth before quickly snapping it shut, finally letting out a long, deep sigh. “Ya know what, I guess I fucking don’t. Go take a hot shower before you get fucking hypothermia.” He finally mutters harshly as he storms out of the room, his bedroom door slamming shut not long after.

You stand in the foyer, staring down the hallway where he disappeared, still dressed in your winter jacket. You can feel the tears pricking in the back of your eyes, immediately pissing you off that they can be caused by even Lewis. You bite lips, willing the tears to stop, but then you realize, there it is.

It finally feels like Christmas.

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 14✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 5682

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

As Dean walked toward the kitchen, his bag slung over his shoulder, he found Sam leaning against the counter, sipping from a mug. Cas and Jack were already in the garage, waiting, but Sam hadn’t moved yet. When Sam spotted Dean, he raised an eyebrow, clearly curious about how your conversation—or what he assumed was a conversation—had gone.

“So", Sam asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity, “how’d she take it?”.

Dean’s expression shifted for a second, his usual cocky smirk slipping into place. He couldn’t help but think back to the moments you had just shared in your room, the intimacy between you, and how you had responded to him. His thoughts briefly wandered to how well you'd "taken it", and he almost chuckled at the double meaning that flashed in his mind.

"She… took it… well", Dean replied, smirking a little as he slung his bag onto the floor, leaning against the counter across from Sam.

Sam raised an eyebrow, noticing the smirk but not quite catching the full implication. "Really? So, no more arguments about the hunt?".

Dean shook his head, still grinning. "Nah, she's good. We worked it out". His tone remained casual, but his mind couldn’t help replaying what had happened between you two. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to stay focused.

Sam gave Dean a knowing look, clearly suspecting there was more going on but not pressing the issue. "Good. I was worried you were gonna keep pushing her away".

Dean exhaled, his smirk softening as he grew more serious. "Yeah, I know. I can't keep treating her like she's fragile. She’s stronger than I give her credit for". He glanced at his brother, and there was a silent understanding between them.

"Glad you finally get that", Sam said with a small smile. "She’s part of the team".

Dean nodded. "Yeah, she is". But even as he said it, his mind still flickered back to the moments in your room. He knew you were more than just a teammate now, but that was a conversation for another time.

"Let’s get going", Dean said, pushing off from the counter and heading toward the garage. "Don’t want Cas and Jack thinking we’re dragging our feet".

Sam followed, and though the conversation had turned back to the hunt, Dean’s thoughts remained on you—on how this hunt was just the start of whatever was coming next for both of you.

A few minutes later, you found yourself in the backseat of the Impala, sandwiched between Cas and Jack. Dean and Sam were up front, with Dean driving, and you could see him glancing in the rearview mirror every so often, checking on you. Each time he looked, a little smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though he tried to hide it.

Jack, sitting to your right, was enthusiastically explaining the different cat breeds to you, his eyes wide with excitement as he described the characteristics of each one. "And did you know that Maine Coons are one of the largest domesticated cats? They can weigh up to 18 pounds!", Jack said, his voice filled with awe as he launched into more fun facts.

Dean, overhearing Jack's passionate explanation, couldn’t suppress the chuckle that escaped him. His eyes flicked back to you, amusement clear on his face. "Jack, I’m not sure she signed up for a full lesson on cat breeds", he said, his voice teasing but warm.

You smiled, half-listening to Jack’s enthusiastic commentary while feeling the steady presence of Cas on your left. Cas, for his part, seemed content to sit quietly, though he nodded along now and then as if he, too, was learning about cats for the first time.

"It's okay", you said with a grin, glancing at Dean through the rearview mirror. "I like learning new things". Your response made Dean’s smirk widen, and he shook his head slightly, his eyes crinkling at the edges in amusement.

Jack beamed at your response, continuing to explain more about cats. “And Siamese cats are really vocal. They’ll follow you around the house, meowing and making all kinds of sounds”.

Dean chuckled again, giving a playful roll of his eyes as he focused back on the road. "Well, I guess Jack’s got the backseat entertainment covered".

Sam, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced back with a small smile. "It's good to know Jack's well-versed in cat trivia. Could come in handy on a hunt, right?".

"Hey, you never know", Dean added, smirking. "Maybe we’ll run into some supernatural feline, and Jack’ll save the day".

Dean had done the impossible—driving the entire way without stopping for the night. The hours had passed with a mix of conversation, laughter, and the occasional silence as the weight of the upcoming hunt settled in. But now, as the Impala pulled into the parking lot of a small, rundown motel in the town where everything had been going crazy, you felt a deep sense of relief wash over you.

As soon as the car came to a stop, you exhaled a long breath, feeling the tension leave your body. You stretched your arms above your head, your muscles tight from sitting in the backseat for so long. Your feet touched solid ground for the first time in hours, and the stretch felt heavenly. You could hear a few satisfying pops in your back as you twisted your torso, working out the stiffness.

“Finally”, you muttered, glancing around the small, dimly lit parking lot. The air was cooler than it had been during the drive, and you inhaled deeply, letting the coolness wake you up.

Dean climbed out of the driver’s seat, stretching his arms above his head with a loud groan. “Man, I love driving, but that was a long haul”, he said, rolling his shoulders. He glanced over at you, a teasing grin on his face. “How you holding up?”.

“Better now that we’re not stuck in that backseat”, you replied, shooting him a playful glare as you reached back to grab your bag from the Impala.

Sam stretched too as he stepped out of the Impala, rolling his shoulders and looking toward the dimly lit motel office. “I’ll go get us checked in”, he said, already heading toward the entrance. “You guys hang tight for a minute.” His tone was all business, but there was a hint of relief on his face too. The long drive had worn on everyone.

As Sam disappeared into the office, Dean gave you a knowing look, his smirk still playing on his lips. “Guess that means we’ve got a few minutes to ourselves”. He grabbed his duffel bag from the trunk, slinging it over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “A few minutes to stretch, maybe. I can still feel that backseat”.

Dean chuckled. “Hey, could’ve been worse. At least Jack kept things… educational with his cat trivia”.

Speaking of Jack, he and Cas were standing a few feet away. Jack looked curiously around the parking lot, as if every detail of this run-down place fascinated him. Cas stood stoically beside him, his usual expression unreadable, though there was a certain calmness about him.

Jack glanced over at you with a bright smile. “So, what’s the plan after we rest? Do we jump right into the hunt, or gather more information first?”.

Dean shrugged, glancing over his shoulder toward the office, waiting for Sam. “We’ll see what intel Sam’s got lined up. But yeah, we’ll probably get moving fast. This town’s got a lot going on”.

You shivered slightly at the mention of the hunt, but it wasn’t from fear—it was anticipation. There was something exciting about that work, even with the danger that came with it. Still, the motel’s worn-down exterior didn’t exactly inspire comfort. You hoped the beds inside were at least half decent after the long drive.

A few moments later, Sam reappeared from the office, holding two keycards. “Alright, we’re set”, he said, handing one card to Dean. “Two rooms. Cas, Jack, you’re with me”.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the rush of excitement that fluttered in your chest when Sam handed Dean the key. The knowledge that you and Dean would have a room to yourselves for the night sent your mind racing, especially after everything that had happened between you two lately. Dean caught the shift in your expression, his green eyes glinting with amusement as if he could read your thoughts.

“Something on your mind?”, Dean teased, raising an eyebrow as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder.

You quickly composed yourself, rolling your eyes playfully to deflect the heat rising to your cheeks. “Just hoping the bed’s not as lumpy as this parking lot looks”, you retorted, but the smile tugging at your lips gave away your true thoughts.

Dean chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough”, he said with a wink before turning to lead the way toward your room.

Cas and Jack nodded their goodnights as they followed Sam toward their room, Jack still peppering Cas with questions about the town and the hunt. You trailed behind Dean, your thoughts bouncing between the anticipation of the hunt tomorrow and the more immediate prospect of having some time alone with him tonight.

Dean unlocked the door and pushed it open. The room was simple—typical motel fare with an old, faded bedspread, a small TV mounted on the wall, and a worn-out chair in the corner. But it was clean enough, and the bed, while not luxurious, looked inviting after hours spent in the Impala.

Dean dropped his bag by the door and surveyed the room with a satisfied nod. “Not bad”, he said. “Could be worse. At least it doesn’t smell like old socks”.

You let out a small laugh, tossing your own bag onto the chair.

Dean stretched his arms over his head again, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he let out a groan of relief. His eyes caught yours, and the playful smirk returned to his lips. “So… you still worried about that bed, or you think it’ll do?”.

You shot him a teasing glance, walking past him toward the bed. “Guess we’ll see”, you said, sitting down and testing the mattress with a bounce. “Not bad,” you murmured, your voice laced with suggestion as you met his gaze again.

Dean’s smirk widened as he stepped closer. “Good to know”, he muttered, his voice dropping slightly.

As he approached, you felt your heartbeat quicken, the energy between you two unmistakable. You and Dean had been dancing around this tension for what felt like forever, and now, with no distractions or interruptions, the air was charged with possibility.

Dean stopped just in front of you, his fingers brushing your knee lightly, the contact sending a spark through you. His voice was soft, teasing but with an edge of seriousness. “You good?”, he asked, his eyes searching yours for a moment of reassurance.

You nodded, biting your lip again, this time unable to hide the smile that crept onto your face. “Yeah”, you whispered, your voice breathy with anticipation. “I’m good”.

Dean grinned and, without breaking eye contact, leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

Eventually, Dean pulled back from the kiss, the warmth of his lips leaving you longing for more. You could feel the charge between you, but instead of deepening the moment, he exhaled and let himself sink down beside you on the bed. He stretched out, his hand running over his face as he let out a tired groan. You watched him in silence for a moment, feeling a flicker of disappointment.

He hadn’t even undressed, still fully in his jeans and boots, and you knew why. Dean was always on edge during hunts, constantly prepared for whatever might come his way. He wouldn’t let his guard down, not even for a night in a safe motel room.

You sat there for a moment, glancing at him, a slight frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. He must have sensed your gaze because, without moving much, he cracked one eye open and smirked.

“Sweetheart”, Dean muttered, his voice soft and amused but laced with exhaustion. “I just drove about 11 hours straight to get us to this shithole. My back hurts, and I’m tired as hell. I’m not twenty anymore”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, knowing he was right. His words were playful, but you could see the fatigue etched into his features. The trip had worn him down, and as much as he’d probably like to indulge you, he just didn’t have it in him tonight.

“Yeah, yeah”, you said, teasing but with a fond smile. “I guess you’re not as invincible as you think”.

Dean’s smirk widened just a bit, and he closed his eyes again, relaxing into the mattress. “Never said I was”, he mumbled. “But trust me, there’ll be time for… other things later”.

His promise hung in the air, and despite the weariness in his voice, it sent a shiver down your spine. You smiled to yourself, the tension easing as you lay back beside him. Even if tonight wasn’t what you had hoped, there was still a sense of comfort in just being near him.

Dean shifted slightly, draping his arm lazily over your waist, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip. "Get some rest, okay? Tomorrow's gonna be a hell of a day", he murmured, his voice already fading as sleep started to claim him.

You nodded, settling more into the bed beside him. You lay there for a while, listening to Dean’s breathing grow steady and slow as he drifted off to sleep. The room was quiet, save for the occasional hum of cars passing by outside and the rustle of fabric as you adjusted under the covers. The soft weight of Dean’s arm around your waist grounded you, a reminder of the closeness you shared, even in the stillness of the moment.

Despite the long drive, your mind was still buzzing, replaying the events of the past few days. Between the tension of the hunt and the growing connection between you and Dean, it was hard to quiet your thoughts. You glanced over at him, his face now relaxed and peaceful in sleep. The hard lines of his worry had softened, and for a moment, he looked younger—like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, if only for a few hours.

You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of warmth and security just being beside him. Even though he was tired, his presence was always steady.

Eventually, the weariness from the long drive began to settle into your bones, and you let out a quiet sigh, finally allowing yourself to relax. You shifted slightly to get more comfortable, careful not to wake Dean, and closed your eyes.

The night passed in a blur of soft dreams and the comforting heat of Dean’s body next to yours. When you woke up, the faint light of dawn was just starting to creep through the thin curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room.

Dean was still asleep, his arm still resting around you, though a bit looser now. You stayed still for a moment, not wanting to disturb him, but eventually, the call of the day ahead began to pull you from the comfort of the bed.

Carefully, you slipped out from under Dean’s arm, his body shifting slightly but not waking. You grabbed some clothes from your bag and quietly headed toward the bathroom to freshen up. The cool water on your face helped clear the last remnants of sleep, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt a sense of resolve wash over you. The hunt ahead would be tough.

When you stepped back into the room, Dean was awake, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. He gave you a groggy smile, his voice still thick with sleep as he muttered, “Mornin’, sunshine”.

You chuckled softly, walking over to the bed. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”.

Dean stretched, wincing slightly as his back cracked. “Like a rock. But man, I’m getting too old for these all-nighters”, he joked, though there was truth behind his words.

Dean’s smile faltered ever so slightly as he took in your appearance, his eyes tracing your features with a tenderness he rarely showed so openly. Your skin was glowing in the soft morning light, flawless and fresh without the need for makeup. Your hair, long and healthy, framed your face perfectly, and your lips, still slightly curved in a smile, were full and rosy. Even your voice, clear and steady so early in the morning, held a vibrancy that made you seem effortlessly full of life.

You didn’t even need coffee to function at this hour, the energy still buzzing inside. It was a quiet contrast to his own grogginess and the dull ache in his back that reminded him he´s getting old.

He could feel the shift in his mood, the weight of the years between you suddenly pressing on him.

The aches in his body that never quite went away, the lines etched into his face from years of battles fought and lost, and the exhaustion that came with a life lived in the shadows—they were all things he had learned to live with. But now, as he looked at you, glowing with energy and youth, that weight felt heavier than usual.

He couldn’t help but wonder what you saw in him. What could a woman like you—so full of life, with a future ahead of you—possibly want with someone like him, who’d already seen and lived more than most should in a lifetime? He wanted to push those thoughts away, but they gnawed at him, making his chest feel tight.

Dean’s smile faded slightly, though he tried to keep up the usual bravado. He leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his tousled hair. His eyes, usually so full of mischief and confidence, were clouded with something else now—doubt, insecurity.

You, however, could sense something was off. Dean, always the one to hide his emotions behind jokes and smiles, wasn’t fooling you this time. The silence between you lingered just a little too long, and when you glanced at him again, you noticed the faraway look in his eyes.

“Dean?”, you asked softly, moving a little closer to him on the bed. “What’s going on?”.

Dean glanced at you, startled out of his thoughts, but he quickly masked it with a small, forced grin. “Nothin’, sweetheart. Just thinkin’”, he muttered, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You frowned, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “Come on, talk to me. What’s bothering you?”.

For a moment, he was quiet, as if weighing whether or not to share what was really on his mind. Finally, with a sigh, he spoke, his voice softer than usual, lacking its usual bravado.

“It’s just… look at you”, he said, his eyes searching yours. “You’re young, full of energy. You wake up like the world hasn’t knocked you down a dozen times. And me? I’m… I’m just tired. I feel like I’ve been through the wringer more times than I can count, and I’m starting to wonder what the hell you see in that”.

His words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable in a way Dean rarely allowed himself to be. He looked away again, not wanting to meet your eyes, as if expecting you to suddenly realize he was right.

Your heart clenched at hearing the doubt in his voice. You had always known Dean was hard on himself, that he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but hearing him express this kind of insecurity—especially about something as fundamental as your relationship—was new. And it hurt to think he didn’t see what you saw in him.

Without saying a word, you moved with a quiet determination. Gently, you pushed the blanket away from him and shifted to straddle his lap. Dean blinked, surprised by your sudden movement, but he didn’t protest. His hands instinctively rested on your hips as you settled onto him, but there was a hesitance in his touch, the vulnerability from his earlier words still lingering in the air.

You cupped his face in both of your hands, forcing him to look at you. His green eyes, usually so confident and steady, were searching yours for answers, for reassurance. You could see the doubt, the years of wear and tear etched into his soul, weighing him down more than any physical scars ever could.

For a moment, you didn’t speak. You simply held his face, your thumbs gently brushing along his stubbled jawline, grounding him in the present, in this moment. His hands tightened slightly on your hips, as if the warmth of your touch was the only thing anchoring him.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice soft but filled with emotion. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?”.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. He wasn’t used to hearing this—wasn’t used to being the one who was taken care of, who was reassured. He’d spent so long being the protector, the one holding everything together, that he didn’t know how to let someone else carry the weight for him, even for a moment.

“You’re not just tired”, you continued, leaning in closer so that your foreheads were nearly touching. “You’ve been carrying the world on your shoulders for so long, and I know that. I see it. But you’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to do it all by yourself”.

Dean’s breath hitched, his eyes closing for a brief second as if your words were too much, too heavy for him to bear. He’d never been good at letting people in, at accepting help or love without feeling like it was temporary, like it could slip away at any moment.

“I’m here because I want to be”, you said, your voice steady and sure. “Not because I’m young or full of energy or any of that. I’m here because of who you are, Dean. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. You’re strong, you’re caring, and you make me feel safe in a way no one else ever has. That’s what I see in you”.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, almost as if he was afraid to let go, afraid that you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on.

You held Dean’s face firmly between your hands, your voice soft but steady as you continued. “You are the most selfless and loving human being I’ve ever met, Dean. You’ve spent your entire life putting everyone else first, making sure the people you care about are safe—even when it meant sacrificing your own happiness, your own peace”.

His gaze remained locked on yours, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes now, a rawness that made your heart ache. He wasn’t used to hearing this. He wasn’t used to being seen in this light. For so long, Dean had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, pushing his own needs aside for the sake of others. And now, it was clear he wasn’t sure how to accept the love and reassurance you were offering him.

You leaned in closer, pressing your forehead to his, your breaths mingling as you spoke softly. “You’re too hard on yourself, Dean. You always have been. You see the mistakes, the things you think you’ve done wrong, and you let them weigh you down. But that’s not what defines you”.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and you could see the battle going on inside him—the part of him that wanted to believe you, to let go of the self-doubt, and the part that had been conditioned to think he wasn’t enough.

“You’re more than the things you’ve done”, you whispered, your thumbs brushing along his jawline again, grounding him in the moment. “You’ve saved so many people, Dean. You’ve saved me. And you do it because you care. Because you love”.

His breath hitched again, and his eyes glistened slightly as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Dean Winchester didn’t cry—he kept it all inside, locked up tight, where no one could see. But here, in this moment, you saw him. The real him. The man who had been through hell and back, but who still had so much love to give.

You took a deep breath, your thumbs still gently tracing the stubble along Dean’s jawline as you spoke again, your voice steady but filled with emotion. “Dean, I need you to stop focusing on that stupid age difference. That’s not what matters—not to me, not to anyone who knows you. There’s so much more that connects us, so much more between us that goes beyond something as simple as numbers”.

He swallowed hard, the vulnerability still palpable, but there was something else too—an understanding, a slow acceptance that maybe, just maybe, you were right.

“I know it’s hard”, you continued, your forehead still pressed lightly against his. “I know you’ve carried these doubts for a long time. But you’ve got to let them go. You’re not just some older guy, and I’m not just some young woman with her life ahead of her. We’re more than that. We’re more because we understand each other in a way most people never will”.

Dean closed his eyes briefly, his chest rising and falling with a heavy breath. He had never been one to easily let go of his doubts, of the fears that lingered deep inside him. But here, in this moment, with you sitting on his lap, your hands cupping his face and your words cutting through his defenses, he felt something shift.

“You make me feel… things I didn’t think I could feel anymore”, he admitted, his voice low and rough, as if the words were coming from a place deep inside him that he had long buried. “And that scares the hell outta me. Because you deserve… someone who can keep up with you".

“Dean, you are enough. Stop thinking like that. You don’t have to keep up with me—I’m not asking you to. We’re in this together, and I need you to see that. You’re exactly who I want, all of you”.

Years of self-doubt and carrying the weight of others had built walls around his heart, walls that were hard to tear down. He’d spent so long believing he wasn’t worthy of real happiness, of love, that it seemed almost impossible for him to truly accept it now.

“You don’t get it”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve screwed up so many times, made so many mistakes. I’m not the guy who’s supposed to get the happy ending”.

You shook your head, refusing to let him retreat into those old doubts. “Everyone makes mistakes, Dean. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to go through, but that doesn’t define you. What defines you is how you keep fighting, how you keep protecting the people you love, no matter what. You’ve done that for everyone—especially for me”.

Dean swallowed hard, his grip on your hips tightening as if he was trying to hold on to the truth in your words. He didn’t speak, but the way he looked at you, with so much emotion, so much uncertainty, told you that he was listening.

“Let go of the idea that you don’t deserve this”, you urged, your voice gentle but filled with conviction. “You deserve happiness, Dean. You deserve love. And I’m here, right here, because I want to be. Not because you’re perfect or because you think you have to be something you’re not, but because I love you—exactly the way you are”.

Dean let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a moment as if he was trying to let your words sink in, trying to believe them. When he opened his eyes again, there was a flicker of something different—hope, maybe. Or at least the beginnings of it.

“I’m not used to this”, he muttered, his voice rough but honest. “I’m not used to… having someone like you. Someone who sees past all the crap and still—”. He stopped, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Still loves you?”, you offered softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Because I do, Dean. I love you, and nothing you say is going to change that”.

Dean's breath hitched again, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. The weight of your words hung between you, thick and heavy with emotion, and you could see how deeply they were affecting him.

Before you could say anything else, Dean moved. His hands, which had been resting on your hips, slid up your back, pulling you close in one swift, almost desperate motion. The intensity in his eyes softened, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was tender at first, almost hesitant, as if he was still testing the waters of allowing himself to be vulnerable with you. But it deepened quickly, the weight of everything unsaid and everything felt pouring into that moment. His lips moved against yours with a passion that was both gentle and overwhelming, his arms tightening around you as if he was afraid to let go.

You responded in kind, your fingers sliding into his hair as you kissed him back, the closeness between you feeling like the most natural thing in the world. There was no hesitation, no doubt in your mind—this was where you belonged, with him, no matter the struggles or the past.

Dean broke the kiss briefly, resting his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. "You don't know what you do to me", he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve this—don't deserve you—but damn, I want it".

You smiled softly, your hand cupping his cheek as you looked into his eyes. "You deserve all of it, Dean. And I’m not going anywhere".

For the first time in a long time, Dean allowed himself to believe it—to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could have this. That he could be happy.

And with that thought, he kissed you again, his lips claiming yours with a new sense of purpose, as if he was finally letting himself fully feel what he had been holding back for so long. The kiss was filled with all the things he couldn't say out loud—the love, the fear, the hope—and you felt every bit of it in the way he held you close, the way he let his guard down just for you.

The kiss deepened, the weight of Dean’s arms around you grounding you completely. You felt safe, cherished, and for a moment, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist. It was just the two of you, caught in this perfect, intimate bubble.

But the moment was short-lived.

A sharp knock at the door jolted you both out of your reverie, the sound cutting through the quiet like a knife. “Hey!”, Sam’s voice called from the other side, his tone firm but impatient. “If you guys want to eat before the mess starts, you’d better hurry up. Jack’s already poking at the waffles”.

Dean let out a frustrated groan, his forehead dropping against yours as he muttered, “Of course”. His voice was filled with both exasperation and amusement, but there was a flicker of reluctance in his eyes as he slowly pulled back from you.

You chuckled softly, brushing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Duty calls”, you teased, though your voice carried a hint of regret.

Dean sighed, sitting back and running a hand through his hair as he glanced toward the door. “Yeah, yeah. Guess breakfast waits for no one—not even us”.

You slipped off his lap reluctantly, straightening your shirt as you turned toward your bag to grab your boots. Dean watched you for a moment, the warmth in his gaze lingering as if he wasn’t quite ready to let the moment go.

Sam knocked again, this time louder. “Seriously, you guys, let’s move! This case isn’t going to wait forever”.

Dean rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he stood and grabbed his jacket. “I swear, Sam’s got the timing of a damn drill sergeant”.

You laughed as you laced up your boots, glancing at him over your shoulder. “At least he’s consistent”.

———————————

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but I'm a bit stressed out about Christmas and I'm glad I was able to update something at all. I hope you like it anyway. <3

Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall @lilbloggs @emily-winchester @star-yawnznn @noell666 @averagedenjienjoyer0290 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[youleftmenochoicebut]

SANTA BABY — remus lupin.

SUMMARY. — it’s your second christmas with your baby girl and Remus dresses up as santa.

PAIRING. — dad!remus lupin x mom!reader

WARNINGS. — fluff, some suggestiveness at the end (because im kinda scared to write smut yet)

A/N. — merry christmas to those who celebrate!

“mommy, where’s dada?” your two and a half year old asks, her small body wrapped around your middle like a koala bear, as you sit in front of the fireplace. it’s 9pm, already past Brielle’s bedtime, but you’re letting her stay up late tonight. it’s christmas eve after all. your friends have left already, the kitchen’s been cleaned and Brielle’s been more than excited to finally get her presents.

“he’s getting more wood for the fire, bug.” the lie slips past your lips flawlessly, your fingers combing through your toddler’s hair, and the fact that it’s the exact same color and texture as Remus’ still stuns you to this day. the truth is you decided it would be a fun idea for Remus to dress up as Santa Claus and give your baby girl her gifts that way. although the more you think about it now, the more hesitant you are.

Brielle just nods, nuzzling her head into the crook of neck, and you sigh contently. not much time passes before you hear the backdoor bang, the loud stomping getting closer, and Remus’ figure appears in the doorway. for how tall he is, being almost 6’5, he’s too skinny (at least that’s what you always tell him), so he has to fill out the Santa costume with some pillows for the belly to look big and round. you chuckle when you notice him, nudging Brielle softly.

“ho, ho, ho!” Remus exclaims, making his voice intentionally lower and he pats his fake stomach, coming closer. “i’ve come to see if there are any good kids here, in this fine house?”

Brielle giggles, her eyes shining brighter when she slides off your lap and skips over to him, tugging at his pant leg. “daddy silly!” she shrieks sweetly, jumping in place as she waits for Remus to lean down to her level. “up, dada!”

“well, i don’t know where your dad is, kiddo, i’m here to bring you your presents!” he keeps up his act like a professional, the smile on your face widens, and you can see a hint of confusion on your girl’s face.

“hmm… i like presents!” Brielle smiles, showing off her teeth, and tries to pull Remus over to the christmas tree. “mama, look! it’s Santa!”

“oh, wow, Brie. no way.” you gasp, chuckling along with your toddler’s enthusiasm, and you watch the scene unfold.

Brielle and Remus kneel down by the christmas tree and your husband reaches for the velvety santa’s sack, and pulls out a couple of neatly packed boxes. he puts them on display, in a row, in front of your baby girl who excitedly waves her hands. she wastes no time reaching for the first package, eagerly ripping the wrapping paper off and squealing happily at what she sees. it’s a toddler sized broomstick, the exact same as Harry’s just smaller, because she’s been wanting that ever since she saw him fly around in the summer. with James’ close assistance, if Lily ever asks, because of course a six year old can’t fly around on a broomstick on his own.

it doesn’t take much time before Brielle starts rubbing her eyes, the events of today catching up to her, and you know you have to step in. you scoop her up in your arms, winking at Remus with a small smile, and as she clings to you, you slowly go upstairs. she’s started sleeping in her own room just a few months back, when you decided she was big enough to have her bed in the separate room on the other side of the corridor, and she still sometimes sleeps with you. you can’t help it, you just love having your baby girl close to you.

this night though, you go straight to her bedroom, swiftly changing her into her red christmasy pajamas. you settle her down in her princess bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin, and you step away, pretty sure she’s already asleep. you’re almost at the door when you hear a soft voice call out to you.

“mama, goodnight kiss.” Brielle whispers, her eyes remaining closed as she snuggles up to her favorite dog plushie (it’s the one Sirius gave you guys when she was born). you smile, and quickly rush over, leaning in to plant a kiss on her forehead, nose, then both cheeks.

“goodnight, bug.” you murmur, and leave the room, a yawn escaping your lips as you walk downstairs to find Remus lounging on the couch, still in the Santa costume.

“well, hello there, Mr. Claus.” you say playfully, slumping down next to him, and your eyes are set on his face, covered mostly by the long fake beard. “i haven’t gotten my presents tonight.” your lips pouting as you reach out, putting your hand against his chest.

“that’s because you’ve been a very bad girl this year, dovey.” Remus whispers, his large hands grasping at your hip and with completely zero trouble he swooshes you into his lap, making you straddle him. you rest your arms on his torso, in a way to hold up as well, and you scoff.

“hey! i thought Santa Claus was supposed to be nice ‘n all.” you mumble, hitting his shoulder as you feel him squeeze his hands on your bum. you raise your eyebrows at him, and as much tired as he seems, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

“then i guess i have to take this off, cause i don’t plan on being nice to you tonight.” his voice is raspy and it makes a shiver run down your spine, and you throw your head back when he puts his lips on your neck.

“no, no, no. the costume stays on.” you grunt, and the laugh that escapes him is so heartful is wrecks his body, so you glance down at him with a serious expression. “oh, i’m not kidding.”

without responding, his hands wander back up, then down, this time deeping into your pants, and with one swift movement he tears your panties apart and off of you. you glare at him, shaking your head, and you shift at the feeling of the slightly itching material of your pants against your bare womanhood.

“i liked those ones-“ your complain is cut off by his lips pushing against yours forcefully, his tongue delving into your mouth. after you pull away, a sting of saliva connects your lips to his, and you blink hazily.

“Santa’s gonna buy you new ones.” he breathes out, a smirk appearing on his face before he easily flips you over onto your back, hovering over you. “actually, a lot of new ones.”

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

Spy × Family Chapter 108: An Analysis

So, after a two month wait, we finally got a new chapter! And we were SO well fed LMAO!!!

Anyway, as always, spoilers for Spy × Family Chapter 108 under the cut!

We start off the chapter with Melinda nervously explaining to Yor her reason for being "Lunaluna Selena" in disguise: it's a fun hobby!

And, obviously, she's in disguise out of worry about the rumours that might spread if the former First Lady of Ostania dabbles in mysticism: as it might cause problems with her husband. (Though it is messed up that she has to hide her hobbies from her own husband, but we know how Donovan is).

In the middle of Melinda's monologue about why she loves this sort of thing, she drops a rather odd line:

(First of all: DANDADAN reference anyone?) Kidding, kidding, it was probably just a throw-off line, but what we're really focusing on is: Melinda's emphases on the word "Telepathy".

Now, side note, I'm not sure if the emphasis was to draw our, the readers' attentions to the fact that Melinda believes in the concept of telepathy existing, or if Melinda herself is putting emphasis on the word "telepathy", implying she knows something about the project that Anya was made for.

It is a fascinating thing to put in, though: if one's talking about the things they believe in, then putting "telepathy" in the top three seems like an odd choice, especially if more general terms like "superpowers" or whatever exist.

It does seem very intentional on Endo-sensei's part to put in, especially since, as of now, we don't know how much Melinda knows about Donovan's current plans, or even about what he's done before.

It could be a reference to Anya's past, or some sort of red herring so the reveal of Anya's past can be more shocking. I'm not sure. Yet, I choose to believe that Melinda knows something about Anya's past--- something maybe she found out on accident? Which is why she's so terrified of Donovan?

In essence, this chapter basically confirms that Melinda is suffering some sort of psychological abuse at the hands of Donovan, leading to her fear of him. What's more interesting is that Donovan is intentionally trying to drive a rift between Melinda and the boys. Possibly he's trying to isolate her by keeping them under his thumb, so that she doesn't try to "betray" him? Or maybe he's already threatened the lives of the boys in return for Melinda staying, all for the sake of keeping the "happy family man" image up to the public (though we know how messed up the family really is).

These panels. They confirm that Melinda has thoughts about standing up for herself and Damian (and Demetrius too, I guess--- I think it's implied), but the sheer terror of what Donovan might do holds her back. Half a step forward, a whole leap back. She even says, "Fortune telling [a hobby that she loves dearly] doesn't matter either. What am I doing here?"

So. yeah.

[NOTE: I skipped over the tarot reading part initially so that I could talk about Donovan and his abuse, and connect it to the first bit of the chapter. The tarot reading part comes now.

NOTE 2: All the information about the tarot cards comes from Google. I have no knowledge about tarot, so please take this with a grain of salt, and if I make any mistakes, please don't hesitate in correcting me :)]

These are the cards we see initially.

She says the card representing Anya's present is the Four of Cups. According to Google, it means:

The Four of Cups tend to appear when you are feeling discouraged and unmotivated. You may feel as if there is no solution or way forward in your situation. Life has become stagnant, and nothing seems to make you happy or passionate.

(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)

Which is kind of true in reference to Anya's life as a student. A student's life is filled with studying (God knows I know it), something Anya is apathetic towards. It's also "Plan A" of Operation Strix: through studying, Anya becomes an Imperial Scholar and Twilight makes contact with Donovan Desmond.

Or, it could be an allusion to Melinda's situation: she's discouraged, and feels trapped in her marriage. Nothing makes her passionate anymore, because everything she experiences is tainted by her husband (see: the panel above where she says 'even fortune-telling doesn't matter).

Melinda says that the Death card represents the factors around Anya. There's the obvious joke about "Oh the Grim Reaper's right next to you!" with Yor next to Anya, but the Death card shouldn't be taken literally.

The Death card signals that one major phase in your life is ending, and a new one is going to start. You just need to close one door, so the new one will open. The past needs to be placed behind you, so you can focus your energy on what is ahead of you.

(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)

This is a reference to Anya's previous life as a test subject, and orphan; and how she's left that past behind and been allowed to actually be a child, and how she's finally being loved as she deserves. How her circumstances, the factors around her are changing. It could also pertain to her physical growth, or maybe it was just there for the joke about Yor being the Grim Reaper (which is still pretty ominous. Who is Yor going to have to kill?)

And, finally, the Star in reverse.

When the Star card is reversed, it means that you are feeling as though everything has turned against you. The challenges that you would normally see as exciting seem instead to make you feel as though you cannot overcome them. You have lost faith in something, whether inside yourself or with something you normally find dear.  Without hope, without faith, we cannot find the motivation to progress forward in the challenges that we face. Where in your life are you feeling hopeless? In what ways do you already feel defeated? And how does that affect your actions? The star reversed asks us to nurture our sense of hope and positive energy to help propel our actions with joy instead of fear.

(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)

Since this represents Anya's future... it doesn't look to good. It feels intentionally grey and murky, with no clear answer as to what's going to happen in Anya's future, but it still seems pretty bleak.

Overall, these readings don't seem to point to a future that seems too good for Anya.

I am very afraid what's going to happen to her (and to find out what's going to happen to her), but I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

We still don't know what exactly Anya means by "This feeling... I think I've felt it before...", especially when it's related to Melinda's fear of returning home and to Donovan. Again, it makes me very nervous for her backstory.

Anya and Yor return to where the rest of the gang is, and---

why is he like this.

After Twilight spends the whole day socializing with the other parents, "pumping them for information", Emile talks about how nice it must be to have a nice mom, which leads to this interaction:

This has a striking similarity to the chapter where Anya confesses about her mind-reading powers to Damian: the reassurance back then that Damian loves his dad, and now, the reassurance that Melinda loves him. Parallels about who he loves and idolizes, and now who loves him.

And, it's also so heartwarming that she specifically takes off her mask: showing her, perhaps, most true self to him, especially due to the fact that she comes from a family of actors, constantly putting on masks.

Speaking of masks... we can see a bit of [REDACTED] bleed through the mask of Loid, and Twilight.

It's the same, pensive expression that we see him wear in Episode 35 (Chapter 56), except it's more... tired. More weary. Less affectionate.

(The panel from Chapter 56)

We see a man imagining What Could Have Been, if the trajectory of his life hadn't changed so drastically: especially at a festival much like the one he's currently at.

We see a man tired of war.

We also see it in Episode 3 (Chapter 3)

This is when he's seeing young boys playing, and thinking of himself and his own friends.

Anya doesn't read his mind, but she does read his expression-

And so, the family man mask comes on, but not quite as properly as he'd like.

We can still see [REDACTED] shine through.

It's the same smile he gives Yor and Anya when Nightfall comes over, the smile with, which Fiona notes, "a tiny hint of real emotion seeping out from beneath it".

We jump to some time later, with Director Gorey asking Loid if he's willing to take on a VIP patient who presents a "challenging" case, which is followed by the inevitable reveal that the patient is Melinda.

I think this implies that Melinda has tried seeing psychiatrists before, but none of them worked out for her, or none of them could figure out what was wrong with her (hence the "challenging").

It's also revealed that Yor suggested Melinda sees Loid, which is greatly boosting his mission.

Gorey says that he suspects she's suffering from an intense case of Persecution Complex, so I searched that up.

People with a persecution complex suffer from the feeling that other people are trying to harm them.

(Cambridge Dictionary)

Given Gorey's diagnosis, I'm wondering if he's implying that Melinda is untrustworthy (which also implies that Melinda might have spoken of her fear of her husband--- perhaps in a roundabout way, which also led to her being classified as "challenging".) Though, for this, we'll need to wait and see next chapter.

FINAL THOUGHTS: I really loved this chapter! It definitely was worth the two month wait (and, I hope Endo-sensei is better, I think he took the break because of poor health). I'm excited for the next chapter! Tell me what your thoughts are!

[syndrossi]

Thinking about Restoration AU (again). What POV would you like to write/or are you just interested in? Well, besides Cersei :D Even for the time of the first book, she can't be called sane. Maybe Jamie? Like you said, in the first book he wasn't in the mood for redemption, but here he meets the ghost of the man he was loyal to and whom he feels he has failed (I tend to think that Rhaegar just didn't want to take a 16 year old boy to battle, so he gave him an important "assignment").

Or maybe Robert's POV during the meeting with the twins? We know that Ned is mentally praying at this time, while Robert may not remember Rhaegar's facial features and his reaction is: ho ho our noble Ned is just a man too, we're not so different.

Or Catelyn? I don't share the fandom's hatred of her, but it would be very interesting to see her thoughts, especially how she tries to recreate the image of a "rival" to Rhaegar: his looks, charming singing, soft demeanor.

Personally, I'm probably most interested in seeing Darmon and Daenerys' POV. With Darmon, it will be both painful and fun - painful because he finds himself in a world where his children aren't around him, dragons are extinct, and the Targaryens have fallen (the story of Rhaegar's death might cause a sudden painful flashback). But watching him terrorize first the people of the valley and then Volantis, who have no idea where the hell the dragon came from or what children this madman is talking about (they're already willing to give him their children just to get rid of him) would be fun.

And for Daenerys I'm just happy, she'll probably be a little scared of Darmon at first (he's a little crazy during their first meeting) but then she'll appreciate him: the fact that there's finally an older family member protecting her from Viserys, and his dragon, and the way he treats her gently (she'll 100% remind Daemon of Rhaegar, only a girl). Or Viserys? In terms of insanity it should be something close to Cersei in the last few books.

Would love to see your thoughts. By the way, have you decided whose POV will be next?

Hmm, it's less for me about POVs and more about certain story events, other than the aforementioned Cersei POV. Like, the Robert meeting the twins is an obvious one, but I don't think I'll write Robert's POV. For that, I'm leaning toward Ned's, especially because he'll get to see little!Jon/Willam staring absolute daggers at Robert, both as in the I HATE YOU sense and the DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY LITTLE BROTHER-DAD sense, but Ned will likely interpret it as "you killed our older brother! 😡" Whereas Rhaegar/Raymar is deer-in-headlights "if I don't move he won't see me" mode.

(Oh, or could THAT be our first Cersei POV? Ehh, I still think Ned, but I can absolutely see Cersei being huffy about Robert going to greet Ned's bastards after he meetings the trueborn ones, viewing it as him rubbing his adultery in her fave, and then she catches a glimpse of Rhaegar and goes why hello yes target acquired ned stark's bastards you say?

Goodness, I hadn't thought about Rhaegar becoming the symbol of the boys' mother to Cat, but he probably would, wouldn't he? Jon and Willam remind her enough of Ned, but she's staring at this dainty-looking child with the long braid, imagining the woman's silver-blond hair and beautiful eyes and quiet demeanor. Did she sing? Is that what drew Ned to her?

Okay, I may have to steal the "Volantis just starts flinging Valyrian-looking children at Daemon in a bid to appease him" bit for Daemon's reign of terror across Essos. 😂 They just round up every child that looks the least bit like him, and even throw in some dark-haired, grey-eyed ones like the other child he mentioned. Daemon is all "wtf am I supposed to do with these?" and they're all "feed them to your dragon if they aren't what you want, please just leave us alone."

I think Dany and Daemon's first meeting will definitely be a Dany POV, so I suppose that's one I'm looking forward to! I still haven't decided the exact timing there. Canonically per the book, her wedding to Drogo has already occurred by now, so either I shift the time so that Daemon can dramatically prevent it, or he rocks up on the Dothraki and starts burning until they give him his kin.

I have not yet decided which POV is next, though that's up after Knight of Stars pt2. (Assuming I don't get sucked into the "Rhaella gets summerhalled" AU I'm very tempted to write first. And we still need the wintery hot springs prompt fill! Lots to write this week.)

[maxdibert]

Everything you’re saying is nothing but assumptions and headcanons. You accuse Severus of going around using Dark Magic on people, and I’m telling you that when Lily confronts him, she doesn’t mention him using it—she mentions Mulciber. That Severus had an interest in Dark Magic and developed DEFENSIVE spells because he was an abused child is another matter entirely. Stop making up nonsense because no one buys into your cheap hater rhetoric.

James starts the fight, and Severus defends himself. If someone slaps me, I have every right to punch them back because they provoked me. Sorry if you don’t understand how things work, but the person who attacks first is the one at fault. You keep victim-blaming over and over again, and you’re worse than one of those guys who, in the face of a rape case, says, “Well, she must have done something to deserve it.” You’re spouting the same rhetoric as those people—it’s disgusting.

No, Remus and Sirius never said James kept attacking Snape because he was afraid Snape might retaliate. What nonsense are you even talking about? Seriously, stop smoking hallucinogens.

Lily didn’t cut ties with him solely because of that incident. It’s obvious their relationship had already been falling apart before that, and they had been drifting apart for a while. It’s clear Lily had distanced herself from him more and more due to the company he kept and the incompatibility with her own circle of friends. That moment was simply the breaking point. And it’s not the same to get along with a Gryffindor Muggle-born as it is to openly confront an entire house, as you’re suggesting, and ACTIVELY RENOUNCE that house’s ideology when you have to sleep in the same dorm as those people. As I said, you must be incredibly privileged to think that someone without social, economic, or familial support has the freedom to stand up to a majority that not only outnumbers them but also wields enormous social influence. I don’t know what world you live in, but it’s clear you’ve never opened a book on class dynamics in your life. You sound like some neoliberal capitalist idiot spouting the “if you try hard enough, you can” narrative. Don’t come at me with that garbage when I’ve been a Marxist activist since I was 15 and have been working with at-risk populations since I graduated.

If Severus were a girl and a guy hung her upside down, exposing her underwear in front of the whole school, would you still have the audacity to say it’s not sexual assault? Leave your disgusting double standards at the door. James humiliated him in front of the entire school because Sirius was bored and wanted some fun. It was two against one. And the fact that the spell was Severus’s means nothing—what, are you serious? If I carry a knife to protect myself from being raped, and the rapist takes it and holds it to my throat, is it my fault that I was assaulted? Do you understand how problematic your comments are when applied to real-life situations? If you genuinely think like this, you’re terrifying, and I hope you never have to work with children or teenagers because you’re incredibly irresponsible.

Many Slytherins could afford to remain neutral because their families were powerful, socially and economically, and no one would touch them. Severus wasn’t a Nott. Severus wasn’t a Greengrass. Severus was a working-class half-blood with no familial, economic, or social support, which made him easy prey—both for being indoctrinated into a cult and for being targeted by a couple of rich bullies.

You’re defending a rich, upper-class kid with no reason or trauma to justify his sociopathic and violent behavior, while demonizing a working-class child from a highly dysfunctional family environment who had no resources whatsoever. Maybe take a hard look at your disgusting classism and your bootlicking attitude toward elites—we’re in the 21st century. You’re like a typical worker who’s always sucking up to his boss. It’s revolting.

No James wasn’t the devil and snape wasn’t his innocent victim.

Lately I’ve seen Snape Stans insisting that snape only became a death eater because of James or Sirius or his father or anyone else they want to blame, and that snape was innocent before hogwarts and innocent in all of his choices. It’s clear in the books that this is not the case. In the flashback scenes which take place before hogwarts, snape intentionally attacks a muggle with magic and makes it clear to lily that he sees her as an exception to blood purity and other muggleborns because she’s different. When lily asks him if her blood status matters he hesitates before saying it doesn’t matter, this is because it does matter to him but he thinks that she is special enough anyway. Not to mention that snape began using slurs against muggleborns before saying it to lily in fifth year, which she reveals she knew about when he tried to apologise for it.

Snape also already knew more dark magic than most adults as an incoming first year, which is listed as one of the reasons that snape was so hated by James, as Sirius and Remus say that James was always against dark magic and blood purity. Snape was using dark magic as a student early on, lily mentions he and his friends using dark magic - even against another student which snape says was just a “joke”.

I cannot find it reasonable to hate James for hating snape when snape was using dark magic and slurs on other students and clearly well on the way to being a death eater even in the early years. James learnt he took things too far as he grew up and began to avoid snape not wanting to provoke a fight, and snape would seek him out to attack him causing James to defend himself (ootp). This is not the actions of an innocent boy and his devilish bully this is a rivalry with the tensions of the war looming over them.

Also, the idea that snape was abused by his muggle father, and therefore it’s somehow okay that he became a death eater, is essentially a headcanon and a weird one. The only mention of his parents in the books is that they argue with each other and that his father is a generally miserable person- but not abusive. The idea of snape being whipped by his father came from a website, not the books or the movies or even written by jkr herself - it is therefore not canon. It is also so weird for people to try and justify snape becoming the equivalent of a Nazi because his father abused him and he happened to be a muggle, when snape grew up in a muggle neighbourhood and would have had many other experiences with muggles that were not abusive. It’s just nonsense.

Furthermore, trying to justify snape being a death eater by saying he had no other choice because he was a slytherin is again nonsense. Not every slytherin became a death eater and most people were not involved in the war based on the size of the order of the phoenix and the original named death eaters. Snape was not forced to be a death eater simply by proximity, he could have chosen to remain close to lily or other people who were not involved in the war- but he did not. He chose to be a death eater for the power and freedom to use dark magic, and because he was a blood purist as a younger man even if he grew out of it later in life.

Overall, it’s just not true to claim that the actions of James or anyone else are the reason snape “turned out” the way he did. The rivalry with James did not make snape turn out how he did because he was already like that before he even met James.

Snape is a very grey character, in my opinion more dark than light, and trying to justify his terrible behaviour by blaming everyone else takes away from the depth of his character and is also just not accurate to the canon.

[bekolxeram]

Unfortunately, I don't have the means to donate this time, (Stupid expensive health issues🙄) but I'd still like to express my gratitude to Bucktommy and this fandom for the occasion.

Not that my life has ever been sunshine and rainbows, but 2024 has been particularly difficult for me. I started the year the sickest I've been for years, then one of my uncles passed away in February. He was 88. He had been slowly succumbing to dementia for quite some time, so almost everyone agreed a cardiac arrest was a blessing in disguise.

I wasn't close with him, but my mother was, and naturally, I had to spend pretty much the entire March accompanying her to all sorts of traditional ceremonies for the dead. All my uncle's children, my cousins, came back from abroad as well. They enjoyed hanging out with me back when I was a toddler, but then I slowly grew up into this weird, moody kid of few words, and we kind of drifted apart from there.

Family reunions were never awkward despite my gloomy existence though, they had their fun aunt who never ran out of things to talk about. To them, my mother's the life of the party and an exemplary woman, who went through tragedies in life but still manages to come out stronger on the other side, who unfortunately had to re-enter the workforce later in life to support her physically ill husband and her mentally ill teenage daughter.

What they don't know, is that while she's a fun aunt, she's not a fun mother. She was dealing with the stress and frustration so well because she always had an outlet at home. Someone she had total ownership over, officialized by a piece of birth certificate. Someone she could do whatever she'd like to, emotionally and physically, because in my culture, it's simply an alternative, maybe outdated method of parenting, not a crime.

I've had time to process my messy relationship with my mother, I've come to (mostly) accept it for what it is. Watching my cousins all rushing over to my mother with open arms to console her, watching my cousins' children playing around, having fun with her, while my existence was barely acknowledged, was actually more triggering than I expected. It acted as a sobering reminding that not only do I have merely a handful of friends since I left church, I in fact don't have any family left either. They're all my mother's family, not mine.

It was probably the most lonely and isolating experience in my life. It's like I was trapped inside of my head, my head that was gradually turning into a bottomless pit of nothingness.

Then Tommy Kinard drove through cross town traffic just to clear the air in person. He expressed how much he wanted to be a part of a family. Then he took his shot and got the boy in the end.

I just felt... understood. Watching Bucktommy's story play out on screen gave me some rare moments of joy and much needed hope. I felt like if Tommy could find happiness later in life, maybe it wasn't too late for me either.

If you've had experience with depression, you'd know how sometimes getting out of bed, brushing your teeth feels like an uphill battle already. Motivation is precious and hard to come by. I was so motivated creatively by Bucktommy and people in the fandom who resonated with the story just like me, that I wrote series of posts analyzing every scene in S7, I learned how to make gifs to illustrate the humor I found in all of us, I figured out how to edit video especially for my vision of a Brad-nado, I even wrote and posted my first fanfic ever.

And I just love how we refuse to give up hope, even after the breakup. We cried, we whined, then we doubled our effort writing fix-it fics, continuing their story on our own terms. Now, we even manage to raise thousands of dollars for charities in 24 hours in the name of love.

Sorry for the wall of text all about myself, I hope I don't come across as a self-absorbed jerk. I always thought I would never make it to 30, it started feeling like a real possibility in March. What happened instead was that my 30th birthday came and go because I was too busy screaming about Buck batting his eyelashes at Tommy when he was receiving a medal.

I'm sitting here, typing this out, looking back at my 2024 at the end of the year, only because Bucktommy happened and I had the pleasure to cross path with you all. I know, it's stupid, it's just a TV show, but I can't really imagine how my life would turn out if I never had Bucktommy, where I would be right, or even if I would still be at all.

So, thank you, for making life worth living for me again.

[spacejip]

"okay so tell me about yourself"

"it kinda sounds like a job interview" you laugh. "you are right" he shrugs as he eats one of the fruits you cut and put in a bowl before sitting down on the couch.

you and chenle have been going on dates for a couple of months now. but almost every time, you guys ended up doing other things instead of actually getting to know each other. it's not as if you two were avoiding conversations, it just happened to be like that.

"but I really mean it, tell me anything... or everything, in fact" he nods encouraging you to talk.

when he said that, your eyes lit up. your face full of enthusiasm. you didn't want to show that you were that excited to have this kind of conversations, but you really were. and he knew it as soon as your face changed, so there was no point in hiding it anymore.

"it might sound silly, but I really love this part of 'getting to know each other'. it's just so fun to listen about whatever the other person likes and the little details" you say happily.

you didn't notice of course, but while you talked, he was looking at you with so much adoration in his eyes. chenle knew he was in love with you, but didn't want to say anything until he had at least a minimal hint about it being reciprocated. he knew you too. not the oddly specific things, but the exact amount to already fall in love.

how many times had he thought about what would you say if he confessed so early? he imagined you saying "you don't even know my favorite color, chenle" so that's why he was determined to learn every detail about you today.

"i love it too, it's a shame we didn't have the time to do it before" he shakes his head. "now, tell me" you giggle at his eagerness.

you look at him one more time, to be sure he actually wanted to. he nods and you finally start.

"i love the color red and purple. i love cats. also, i love listening to music. it might sound weird, but i love studying because it's the perfect excuse to listen to my favorite songs without being interrupted. i like to draw, but i'm not really good at it. i love the 'oversized pants and tiny tops' combination. i love the stars and planets- actually, did you know i wanted to be an astronaut?" he chuckled when you interrupted yourself. "...but I decided to switch paths because i want to have a family one day, and i couldn't be there for my kids and husband if i'm in space, right?"

you looked like you had a million other things to say, but you wanted to listen about his own stuff too. "it's your turn now" you say this time, a hint of shyness showing in your face because of how much you managed to say in two minutes.

he, again, noticed it. "it's alright, i really enjoy listening to you" at this point you were all red because of his confession.

chenle could listen to you for hours non stop. even though he was the type to talk... the type to be listened to.

“maybe today i’ll finally tell her" he thought.

[razzmatash]

Not Yet Day 10 - Surprise Visit Love and Deepspace Sylus x f!OC 1431 Words Read on Ao3 banner by firefly-graphics

“Calli, you never mentioned that your boyfriend was loaded!”

Pulling her head out of her scrubs, Calli blinked at the woman that had swung around the lockers to face her. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes before shaking a finger at her. “Your man. Not only is he good looking but he’s loaded as well?”

“Probably loaded in other ways too,” another voice chirped from the other side of the lockers, causing laughter through the room.

“Where is this coming from?” Calli asked warily, tugging her t-shirt down over her belly.

The other nurse’s eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, you didn’t know?”

“That he’s loaded? I already knew that.”

“Well, you’ll see soon enough!”

“Wait!” she said sharply as the other turned sharply to run away. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

No answer came and she had the distinct impression that everyone was getting out of the locker room as quickly as they could.

Calli huffed to herself. What the hell was going on? Why would she suddenly mention Sylus like that? She’d never really hid the fact that she had a boyfriend. It would have been idiotic given how Sylus liked showing up to pick her up whenever he could and showing that they were very much together. But she didn’t talk much about what he did or where he came from. It was hard to keep the others at bay but most of them had picked up on the fact that she didn’t want to talk much about it.

Of course, that meant they started making things up. Government secret agent, mafia boss, playboy billionaire. Those were only the latest guesses she’d heard thrown around and she refused to acknowledge that she had heard them. They were having fun and Sylus always thought it was amusing when she told him.

But why would she say that?

Rolling up her scrubs, she tucked them into her bag and hefted it up. She needed to get home quickly so she could start prepping for tomorrow. While she was excited about having everyone over for holiday dinner, she wasn’t sure how it was going to go. So she wanted to get as much done tonight as she could and try to have a good night’s sleep. Then she could be ready for whatever chaos came from dinner.

She pulled on her jacket and started for the door. With any luck, transit wouldn’t be too bad and there wouldn’t be any hassles getting-

“Where are you taking her?”

“It better be somewhere nice!”

“Or maybe you should get her a ring!”

Calli paused at the chorus of voices that sounded suspiciously like the girls she worked with. Peeking around a corner, something odd happened. Her heart somehow sank and leapt at the same time. Sylus was standing near the nurses station, completely surrounded by the rest of her shift. It was them peppering him with questions! What were they doing? And what was he doing here? He’d told her he’d be busy until dinner tomorrow, wrapping up everything he could before they went on their holiday. Had he lied or had he actually wrapped up early?

“She’s deciding where we’re going.” Sylus’ smooth voice reached her, amusement laced through it. “Only she knows if it’s nice or not.”

“But you’re paying for it?”

“I am.”

“You also didn’t answer about the ring,” someone said slyly.

Her heart leapt into her throat and she hurried around the corner. They’d only been together a few months! What were they doing?! She didn’t want them to ask and she absolutely did not want him to answer!

She didn’t know if he heard her or if he somehow felt her approaching but Sylus looked up suddenly. She saw the smile spread across his face before his gaze dropped back down to the other nurses. “A ring?” he mused. “I wouldn’t be opposed but-”

“What are you doing here?” Calli interrupted, jerking to a halt on the other side of the small crowd.

The nurses all spun to face her before they all hurriedly left, saying their goodbyes and holiday wishes. Sylus continued to watch her with a smile, one eyebrow raised at her outburst. “Hello, sweetie,” he murmured, leaning down to meet her.

She reached up and covered his mouth with both of her hands. “Why would you answer that?” she whispered. “They’re just trying to get a rise out of you.”

He caught her wrists and pulled them away from his mouth. “I don’t think I’m the one they were trying to get a rise out of.”

Calli huffed, shaking her head. “But what are you doing here? Did you wrap up everything early?”

Sylus hummed, letting go of her wrists. One hand stroked over her hair while the other threaded their fingers together. “I did so I thought I would come help you tonight.”

And spend more time with you. The sentiment was unspoken but she heard it loud and clear. “I’d like that.”

Another smile before he was leading her away from the station where the girls were still watching them like hawks, waiting for more information. His almost comment on the ring was going to make the rounds but hopefully that would die down by the time she got back. Hopefully.

She gave a little wave as people chirped their goodbyes as they walked past but Sylus didn’t stop to let her talk to them. She didn’t mind. Her thoughts were starting to pile up with all the things they needed to do to prep for tomorrow. It would be a little easier with him there but maybe she could fit in a few more things so they could relax more tomorrow. Maybe-

A small noise left her when Sylus tugged gently on her hand before wrapping an arm around her waist.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said without looking, leading her out the door. “We’ll do what we can and finish the rest tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Kitten, we have time.”

She puffed out her cheeks before sighing. He was right. She’d had enough time when it was just her. With him there, they could finish early, maybe enjoy dinner together before tucking in for the rest of the night. She didn’t say anything as he took her to his car and helped her into the passenger seat. Instead, she just snuggled into it.

His laughter roused her a little bit as he pulled away from the hospital. “Comfortable?”

“It’s better than the bus,” she teased, making him chuckle.

“I should hope so.”

Calli smiled and almost purred as a large hand came to rest on her thigh. “Definitely don’t have that on the bus,” she murmured.

His fingers tightened for a moment. “I should hope not.”

It was her turn to laugh before they fell into a comfortable silence. But he didn’t let it last for long.

“Black diamonds,” he said quietly. “Platinum.”

She frowned, turning to him. “What?”

“I said I wasn’t opposed to it, kitten. Do you really think I haven’t thought about it?”

Her frown deepened. What was he talking about? Opposed to what? What would he be using diamonds and platinum-Calli froze in her seat, staring at him. “Sylus....”

“Maybe I should,” he mused. “It’s just a ring.”

Her heart thumped in her chest, her pulse ringing in her ears. “You....”

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. She didn’t miss which finger he kissed. “But you don’t let me buy you jewellery,” he continued. “You don’t take it when I try to give it to you. Would you turn me down if I gave you a ring?”

She didn’t know what to say, her thoughts whirling again but going in a completely different direction.

Scarlet eyes slid to her and his lips quirked up. “What are you thinking about to look like that, sweetie? Can’t a man give his lover a gift?”

“But a ring?” she squeaked.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked smoothly. “It’s just a ring. What do you think it is?”

She didn’t know what to think! Was he serious that it was just a ring because the girls were absolutely not asking about just a ring earlier? Or was he teasing her and actually being serious?

Another look and a soothing squeeze of her hand. “But I didn’t get to finish,” Sylus said quietly. “While I’m not opposed, I know it’s not time.”

Her heart was back to pounding wildly at the mere thought that he wanted that with her. Because she heard the unspoken yet at the end of his sentence.

[jintaka-hane]

Hiiii. Smooching my blorbos on new years eve? Yes please! So ummm is it OK if it's Mihawk x reader x Shanks? I can’t choose between them. 🥺

This is such a fun idea Jintaka!! 😘

[Kiss your blorbo at the New Year’s Eve event]

MIHAWK AND SHANKS

Summary: Your boyfriends have never cared if you burn the food. Word count: 600 Warning: xf!reader; MDNI, +18 All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

"Why did I get myself into this?" you wonder, desperately trying to salvage the charred high-quality cordon bleu you have bought for the occasion.

This isn't just any night. It's New Year's Eve, and you're spending it with your two boyfriends. So, in an attempt to surprise them, you've decided to get into the kitchen and prepare a delicious and sumptuous dinner to close out the year. But it’s not going quite as planned.

While you wrestle with a sauce that also seems determined to stick to the bottom of the pan, the two men wait patiently in the living room. One takes small sips from his wine glass, while the other is already on his fifth or sixth pint of beer. The clatter from the kitchen gives them a clear idea of the chaos unfolding inside, and when they hear pots and pans crash followed by a stream of curses, they exchange a conspiratorial glance.

You wipe the sweat from your brow, leaning over the counter to scrub at the pepper sauce stubbornly stuck to the wall, and just as you're about to curse again, you feel strong, familiar hands firmly grab your waist and pull you back.

"Come here, love," whispers a velvety voice in your ear as your lover presses your back flush against his chest.

"Mihawk, let me go!" you protest, "I said I’d make dinner, and I still have a lot to do!" Squirming, you try to pull away, even though you know it’s pointless. Once he’s got you like this, you’ll only be let go when he decides.

Shanks strolls into the kitchen and stands in front of you, trying not to laugh as he surveys the chaotic mess.

"You know, sweetheart," he grins, running a hand through his hair, "sometimes you need to know when to stop..."

"I haven't even started the dessert!" you huff in frustration as Mihawk keeps holding you firmly. Shanks laughs loudly, and you pout, looking at him through your long lashes. "Aren't you hungry?"

Shanks' expression darkens in an instant. He leans closer to you, and your breath catches as you feel Mihawk's grip tighten around your waist.

"Oh, yes, we're definitely hungry..." the redhead says, tracing your lips slowly with his thumb, forcing you to part them.

"In fact, love..." Mihawk's deep voice whispers from behind. "We're starting to get a little impatient." Holding you firmly with one hand, he moves the other to your neck, stroking it before gripping your chin and turning your face toward the man in front of you. "Shanks, care to take a bite?"

Shanks gives you a wolfish grin before pressing his lips against yours, stealing your breath as he kisses ravenously. Your arms struggle futilely under Mihawk's grip to embrace your red-haired boyfriend, but he doesn't allow it. As you eagerly returns the kiss, you notice Mihawk's hand sliding over your waist, tracing it before reaching into your pants. He then makes its way under your underwear, his fingers spreading your folds with expertise, feeling the wetness of your arousal.

“Shanks, the food is ready,” he says in his sulky voice.

You moan in frustration as Shanks abruptly pulls away from the kiss. The man lifts his gaze over you, looking at his lover behind you with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Alright, take her to bed.”

In a single movement, Mihawk spins you in his arms, and lifts you bridal-style. As he moves down the hallway with you, his lips seek yours, giving you a passionate kiss while Shanks guides you both forward.

You laugh softly on his lips, and in the brief moment of breath your lover gives you, you catch a glimpse of the time on the huge wall clock. 

00:01.

Merry Christmas Robin!

.............................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[mtheonott]

Are you serious? Not kidding?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⌗ raw!reader, comf, declaration of love, drunk!TheodoreNott, party, jokes and banter, flirt

word count: 2.2k

note: I'm tired of writing this... but it seemed to work out fine.

Theodore, the smartest student at Hogwarts, stood at the classroom door, looking at the large and thick walls that had been cracked for a long time. The guy didn't like to think about time, it drove him crazy. He tried to look at his time at Hogwarts from a more positive perspective, even though he was doing poorly.

The Slytherin noticed a human approaching out of the corner of his eye and turned around, "Ah... you're awake. I thought you were dead, sleeping beauty.", He grinned, keeping his hands on his hips.

A frail figure in a blue uniform was walking towards the guy along the empty corridor, clicking her heel, which was unforgivable for the Ravenclaw prefect. But we'll miss it. When you heard the greeting, you rolled your eyes in annoyance. A new day is a new batch of jokes and tricks. Nott just giggled at your reaction, waved at you and turned his head towards the classroom.

"Zabini suggested a drink after dinner. Are you with us?", He knew that you have a good relationship with a nice alcoholic. Standing next to him, you also looked at the closed doors. Transfiguration lesson. You crossed your arms over your chest and confidently stated, "I'll be busy." It is quite expected that a person like you will have things to do. But the guy's grin made it clear to you that he had come up with an interesting joke again.

"What's up? You didn't tell me. Have you found another boy who will make fun of you in the evenings?" You just sighed a little, "You're enough for me, nerd. I'm going to play chess with Potter."

Nott clicked his tongue, frowning. What an abomination, "Since when do you play chess? Are you trying to get closer to that ideal for half of Hogwarts?" You just giggled, slightly covering your mouth.

You've been in love with this Slytherin since freshman year and haven't looked at the other candidates. He is warmth and comfort. Calmness. Even though you don't want to admit it.

There was an orange landscape in the courtyard, which both Theodore and you liked, so your couple was in a better mood than the others.

"He offered, and I was just free. Nothing special," you said, looking a little more confident. Nott scratched his head, looking at his shoes, "You could have hung out with us then.", the guy sighed, "Okay. Come on, sleeping beauty."

He took your arm and led you to class. He took your arm. Took your arm for the first time. Your heart started pounding, literally trying to jump out of your chest. You followed him obediently, no matter where. All your thoughts were occupied by the fact that he was holding your hand.

The guy entered the office, which was filled with students. They were all waiting for the professor and watching another argument between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw, not noticing Theo and you.

Nott came over to your desk, leading you along, "Hey?" he said, bringing you back to reality. You just looked at him absently and nodded. What for? You don't know. "I'm sorry, I was thinking."

The guy grinned, leaning towards you and resting his hands on the table, "Are you fantasizing about me? Baby, I can make all your dirty fantasies come true, just ask." He grinned and went to his friends, leaving you. You rolled your eyes and looked away. Idiot.

The girls have already taken you into their company, telling you about the latest gossip, and you were trying to distract yourself from thoughts of Slytherin. Just for a minute.

────────────────.✦

Basically, the day went as usual: boring lessons, Tarot cards (jokingly) at breaks, discussion of Daphne's outfit for the ball and Nott. Theodore Nott has taken literally every second of your time. Not just thoughts. The guy showed up at every break, at every meal, and at every free minute. It's fun for him. Maybe for you too.

In the evening, when Potter reported on important matters with "urgent questions," you still decided to go to Zabini. Why not?

Entering a noisy room, you waved to a familiar bunch of guys at the door, hugged your friends and only glanced at Zabini, who had already found a girlfriend for the evening. You'll say hello to him later. The main thing is different: Nott. He noticed you too and immediately stood up, inviting you to sit next to him, "Little witch, sit down.... It's good to see you."

Of course, sitting down with him is a bad idea. What if the jokes get to a physical level? Although, it's kind of good... nonsense. Okay, calm down. You sat down next to him, nodding at his greeting, "Potter is busy, I decided to stop by."

"Oh, so our hero is busy? It's a nuisance. Okay, here, ah... firewhisky and like... that’s all..." Nott looked thoughtfully at the table, remembering what else he could offer. Unable to think of anything, he turned to you and smiled. "You always have me, you can eat and drink me."

You raised an eyebrow and squinted in his direction, "Sorry, I'm on a diet. I prefer not to eat after 6"

The guy first blinked, trying to figure out your joke, and then grinned and nodded, "Yes, yes, I understand… I just, well..." He lazily pointed at a couple of bottles of alcohol. They were pointlessly empty on the table, almost shouting: "Nott is drunk out of his mind."

You nodded in disappointment, "Every time you're not in class, you're fucking around." Theo smiled brightly, closed his eyes and nodded confidently. Like a dog, which is not like him during lessons and Quidditch practice. "That's right. That's why I'm given a life here."

Sighing, you were about to get up, leaving the drunk guy, so as not to get any problems. You never know. But he stopped you by first pulling you by the arm, and then holding you by the shoulders with both hands. Nott made fake sad eyes and almost whimpered, "Heeeeey... stay with me, at least for a couple of minutes. You're always leaving in my dreams, and now..."

In dreams? What kind of nonsense is this? You tilted your head to the side and frowned, "Did you dream about me? What the..." Theo didn't let you finish. He put his finger on your lip, silencing you and leaned in, "It's a secret. It's better not to tell anyone that I have dreams at all. Suddenly, someone will get into my head..." he whispered, and then looked around. The guy met her gaze again and continued, "I heard someone here can do this."

Your surprised eyes slowly became irritated, "Nott, this is a story for children. Are you nuts?" The Slytherin laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling your collarbone. Your ears turned slightly red, which made you want to push him away so that no one would notice. But you didn't do it.

The guy said sleepily, "Did you know that you smell great? Patchouli, cedar leaves, bergamot... it smells like autumn." Your heart skipped a beat. Compliments like "Cool lipstick," "Wow, great styling," or "Cute boots." had no effect on you. But this description of your scent... Nott hugged you around the waist, breathing heavily, "You're right. I must be crazy to be in love with..." but he couldn't finish.

Blaze ruffled his hair, silencing him with his abrupt arrival and smiled happily at you, which made you feel calmer, "Hey! Did you come anyway? I see that the idiot is already drunk... keep an eye on him, and I'll leave with... uh... in short, with the pretty Gryffindor. Don't be bored."

You didn't even have time to greet him, let alone respond to his request. He disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone on that couch again. More precisely, there were people here... but they are not felt. Absolutely.

Nott looked out into the crowd, trying to spot his friend, but to no avail. Then he turned to you and grinned, drunkenly rather than cockily, "Would you sleep with Zabini?"

The question has brought you to a standstill. You stared at his alcohol-reddened face and blinked a little, "Well... you know, such questions shouldn't be asked. But I would rather answer no than yes." Theo nodded and rested his head on your shoulder again, which made your heart beat faster again, "And with me? Would you sleep with me, Y/n?" he muttered, closing his eyes.

You blushed again and swallowed, "You know... I'm not going to answer that question. This is unethical and uncivilized, Theodore Nott. "His hands were resting calmly, without movement, on your waist. He nodded again and sighed, "But I would with such a beauty." You are used to skipping such comments, it's not the first time you hear. But now your eyes were darting in different directions, nervously and touchily. You don't even understand why you're offended. Because he's drunk and says things like that? Maybe.

"Okay, Theo, let's go for a walk. Let's try to slow down the negative effects of alcohol's toxic substances on your brain." You gently helped him up, still holding him in your arms. Not because you wanted to, but because he wouldn't let you go. When you straightened up, he finally released you from his grip. Surprisingly, his drunken state still allowed him to walk and stand, but you still helped him get out of the noisy space.

The Slytherin common room was cold and empty. You quietly went out into the hallway of Hogwarts, holding his hand. Nott didn't take his eyes off you, smiling drunkenly. After looking around, you walked on, wandering through the already night-time corridors of the school. He was still holding your hand, now looking at the floor. The silence was pleasant rather than embarrassing. Quiet footsteps, rustling of clothes, faint wind and sighs. Nothing more.

After going out to Ravenclaw Tower, you went to the window overlooking the lake. The clean air allowed you to think clearly again. Theo leaned against the wall, looking up at the night sky, "Sorry about tonight. I... well..."

"You'll sober up and apologize, Nott. There's no need to annoy me again." you replied, still looking at the lake. His gaze fixed on you and he grinned, "That's what I like about you. So serious. Like you are ready to kill… This little walk brought me back to my senses a little bit, don't worry. Accept my apologies."

You still looked at him and nodded, "Okay then, nerd, I forgive you."

Theo leaned over to you, smiling a little brighter, "So you're ready to forgive me? Are you not indifferent to me?"

Raising an eyebrow, you looked at him in surprise, "You seem smart, but the train of thought is not logical... do you want me to feel something for you so much?"

The smile faded from his face and he nodded with a serious expression, "Yes. Why not?"

You shook your head and turned back to the lake. It stood out from everything else, which caught your attention. Like Nott.

The guy touched your cheek, silently forcing you to look at him, which you did. He bent down a little more and said, "Even though I'm drunk, but when I talk about love, nothing affects the words. I want you to feel something for me. Because I am. I... just, hm..." This time, he let go of his gaze. Theo stared at the floor, trying to find the right words.

You stared at him dumbfounded, trying to digest the words he said. Then you swallowed and replied uncertainly, "Well, I... feel... something." He looked up and stared at you hopefully, "Yes? You're not kidding? Fuck, I'm drunk, for sure..." The guy ran his hand over his face and looked at you through his fingers, "Are you sure you said that? Are you serious? Not kidding?"

You chuckled softly and shook your head, "Not kidding." Nott immediately pulled you by the waist, eagerly biting into your lips. It was as if he had turned one of his million bedtime fantasies into reality. You were stunned, but you accepted the kiss by hugging his neck.

The moonlight was spying on this moment, illuminating your faces. No, although you needed the kiss so much, it was rather gentle, warming you on this autumn night.

Soon you broke away from each other. Nott leaned back to look into your eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know... I don't remember why anymore. But I'm sorry." You nodded, also not knowing what he was apologizing for, "Okay. Anyway, I forgive you, nerd. You know... you have an insanely long tongue. Shut up already." You grabbed him by the collar of his black shirt and pulled him back for a hotter kiss.

You spent the rest of the evening walking around Hogwarts. Silently and contentedly. The wind contrasted with the warmth of his hands, leaving a pleasant feeling, like brownies with ice cream. And you don't need anything more. You will remember this moment for the rest of your life.

[raven-dor]

close to you

in which fred weasley and his best friend are oblivious to each other's feelings

PAIRING: fred weasley ii x gryffindor!reader, fred weasley ii x fem!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, obliviousness!!, arguing, misunderstanding, poor theodore nott jr

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

“Godric.” James groaned, holding his head between his hands. “They’ve been arguing for hours.” 

Roxanne laughed. “You think we’d be used to it by now.” She crossed her arms. “What are they arguing about this time?” 

James scoffed, leaning back into the plush Gryffindor common room couch. “Oh, you weren’t listening?” Roxanne shook her head. He smirked, sighing as if he was disappointed. “Allow me to enlighten you. Your darling brother brought up the fact that Ophelia Scamander was going alone to the Yule Ball.” 

“Alright?” 

“I’m almost certain he brought that up to get a reaction from Y/N.”

Roxanne laughed. “Is that what started this then?” 

James shook his head, thoroughly entertained that Roxanne hadn’t caught on yet. “What started this was that Y/N brought up she already had a date.” 

Roxanne’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking.” 

“I wish I was. Your brother overreacted…” 

“Typical.” 

“Hence the argument we’ve been spectators to for roughly-” He checked his watch. “Ten minutes.” 

“That’s it!” 

They looked over, surprised that steam wasn’t hissing from Y/N’s ears. Her voice was shrill, ringing through the otherwise empty common room. “Come find me when you become an adult.” She stormed off, her gaze fixed on the exit. 

Fred scoffed, yelling after her. “Jokes on you. I already am!” 

The portrait door slammed shut, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the room. James coughed. “Trouble in paradise?” 

Fred glared, plopping on the couch beside him. “Shut it, you.” 

Roxanne sighed. “Freddie, why do you think you were so upset about this?” 

“I assumed we were going together.”

James grinned. “And why’s that?” 

“I know where this is going, James. We’re best friends.” Fred almost looked dejected as he said it. “Nothing more.” 

Roxanne laughed. Godric, it was a miracle he survived day to day with how thick he could be. “Do you ever stop and think that perhaps the reason you and dear Y/N/N argue so often is because you fancy each other?”

“Rox…”

James sighed, looking at his cousin guiltily. “She’s not wrong, Fred.” 

Fred groaned. “Not you too.” He stood up, his hands on his hips. “I’m off to find Y/N.” 

“Have fun!”

“Bugger off, James!” 

The library was quieter than the Gryffindor Common Room, that much was evident. The majority of the student body could be found there at any time of day staring at textbooks, committing their information to memory. She smiled to herself, it was nice to have the solitude the library offered compared to the chaos her home brought contained. It almost made her laugh: Fred had no right to be that upset, but she couldn’t help but feel butterflies erupt in her stomach whenever he had an overprotective stint. He was gorgeous, anyone with eyes knew, the way his eyes lit up when he was passionate about something. And the fact he was so annoyed with her choice of date made her dare to think that-

“Y/N.” 

“Fredrick.” 

He sat down, carrying a look that mirrored that of a kicked puppy. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It wasn’t fair.” 

Ah. She felt disappointed. “That’s very… responsible of you.” 

“Do you, do you have anything to say?” 

“Do I?” She scoffed, setting down her quill to see if he was being serious. “Am I supposed to be apologizing as well?” 

He sighed. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just-” 

“What?” She snapped. “What did you just-” 

“I can’t stand you being mad at me.” He hissed. “I know it’s my fault, love.” He reached out, holding her hand and rubbing the back with his thumb. “You’re my best friend, and we can’t be mad at each other forever.” 

It was like a bucket of cold water thrown on her face. Why had he always felt the need to break her heart? “I don’t know what gave you the impression I was mad at you Fred.” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” He laughed. “The fact that you stormed off and have been avoiding eye contact this entire conversation.”

She stuck her tongue out. “You’re my best friend too. And trust me, I could never be mad at you.”

“Good.” He smiled. “Have you found a dress yet?” 

She shook her head. “I haven’t, actually. Would you want to come along? Roxie already got hers, and the rest of the girls had them shipped in.” 

“Sounds like you've already planned my Saturday.” 

She shoved his arm, glaring. “Oh, because you had such compelling plans.” 

“Godric, woman, stop pulling me,” Fred whined.

She rolled her eyes, pushing open the door of Gladrags. “Would you rather have frozen? Really, you should be thanking me.” She let go of his hand to remove her coat, and Fred almost outwardly whined from the loss of touch. “It’s not my fault you walk slower than a flobberworm.” 

They strolled through the aisles, and every so often Y/N handed Fred a dress to hold. “Are you excited?” 

“To watch you play dress up for two hours?” He smiled sarcastically. “Ecstatic.” 

“Guard my room will you.” She yelled through the curtain. “Do you swear?”

He nodded, smiling to himself. “I solemnly swear.”  

She rolled her eyes, laughing to herself. “Is that a reference to that stupid map?” 

“Love, they’re all starting to look the same.” 

Y/N glared, visibly defeated by the many hours of trying on dress after dress after dress. “If I knew you would be so unhelpful I wouldn’t have brought you.” 

He held his hands up in surrender. “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.” 

Fred stood up, and she naturally followed after him. “You need something different. Not something you find at first glance.” She smacked his arm, obviously taking offense. “I wasn’t saying you have bad taste, I’m just-” Her eyebrow raised impatiently. “Getting to the point.” He stopped, pulling out the most stunning dress she’d ever seen in her life. “I know that I don’t have the best taste-” 

“It’s perfect.” She squealed, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re perfect.” 

He laughed, handing her the dress. “Go on, then.” 

She ran to the dressing rooms. The dress he'd picked was white, with (what looked like) a thousand layers of tule, all coming to an end at an empire waistline. Jewels had been expertly sewn in, and as she looked closer, she realized they were snowflakes.

The back would prove to be an issue, she thought as she closed the curtain. She could lace most of it herself, but- Godric, she would need someone else to help her. “Fred.” 

A beat of silence. “Everything alright, love?” 

She took a deep breath. “I need your help.” 

“With?” His voice sounded tight. 

“I can’t-” She huffed, picked up the front of the dress, and walked out of the dressing room. “The lacing...” Fred stared, and her heart skipped a beat, there was that look again. “Stop looking at me like that.” He stepped forward, whispering gently.

“Turn around.” 

“Excuse me?” She tilted her head. 

“The lacing.” He reminded her why she'd even called for his help. “Turn around.” 

She obliged, smiling to herself as his fingers grazed her back. “You picked the perfect dress, Freddie.” 

His cheeks felt like they were on fire, tightening the laces once more before tying a bow. “It’s nothing…” She turned around, and he realized how serious this moment really was. “You know, you look like the moon itself.”

She laughed, actually laughed. He almost glared, here he was complimenting her, and she laughed at him. “What’s so funny?” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just that you looked so serious when you said it.” 

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping on his face. “Well, remind me to never compliment you again.” 

“No!” She begged. “Please, don’t.” 

“Fine, fine.” Somehow his arm had found its way around her waist, and time seemed to stand still. It felt natural almost, like her waist had been made for his arm to be draped around it. “You’ve convinced me.” 

“What are we doing? This is-” 

“Y/N." He swallowed, his mouth felt dry. "I need to kiss you now. Is that- okay?” 

She nodded, her eyelids lulling in anticipation. “Yes.” 

“I- I’m going to-” 

“Fred, just kiss me!” Her voice was ruder than she intended, her eyes widening. “Sorry, I-” 

“I don’t think we should.” He whispered. “It would only-” 

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she felt like she could die right there. Her voice broke as she spoke. “Can you undo the laces please?” 

He nodded. “I’m sorry-” 

“Fred, just do it.” Her voice was harsh, and his fingers fumbled with the strings. “Don’t apologize to me. We both wanted to, just…” The dress was loose, and she crossed her arms, barely holding it up as she turned around. Her eyes were glassy, and Fred had never felt this guilty in her life. Tears were steadily streaming down her face. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.” 

“I-”

“Promise me!”

“I promise.” 

She shoved past him, pulling the curtain shut. “I think you should leave.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Fred, go away.” 

Her tone dripped with venom. He’d never heard her sound that betrayed, more angry, and it made him want to stay even more, to help her and make up for his cowardice. “Love, let me-” 

“Just stop!” She screamed. “I think it’s best if we take a break.” 

“A break?” His voice sounded nervous. Good, she wanted him to squirm like she just had. “From what?” 

“Whatever this is Fred. I’m tired of it. You- You coward.” She walked out of the dressing room, glaring at her best friend. “I have feelings for you and I can’t- I can’t be around you like this. So please just don’t talk to me.” 

She stormed out of the shop, leaving Fred alone with his thoughts. He was empty, he realized. It was stupid: honestly, the most foolish thing he’d ever done, backing out of something he knew he'd wanted to do for ages.

She was right, he was a coward. How many, he asked himself, could stand in the face of perfection itself and not crumble? He pushed open the curtain, frowning at the dress that had been thrown on the ground. 

“Excuse me?” He stood up, turning around to see an older witch looking at him with blatant concern. “Is everything alright, dear?” 

“I’d-” He took a deep breath, folding the dress delicately. “I’d like to buy this dress please.” 

The older witch nodded, leading him to the register. “She’s very lucky.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m the lucky one.” 

“Y/N!” Roxanne called out from the bottom of the stairs. “There’s a package for you.” 

Her mother wasn’t due to send her a care package for another week. Her eyebrows furrowed as she climbed out of bed. She’d wanted to sleep as long as she could before getting ready for the ball, but the universe had other plans for her. “Who’s it from?” 

Roxanne shrugged. “Don't know.” 

Y/N laughed. “A lot of help you are. There’s no note?” 

She shook her head. “It’s a pretty big box.” 

Y/N nodded. “Thanks, Rox.” 

“Can I-” Roxanne smiled. “Can I come with you?” 

“Do you even need to ask?” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows, racing up the stairs, with Roxanne hot on her tail. They jumped onto Y/N’s bed, ripping the box open eagerly. 

“A note!” Roxanne grinned. “Any idea who could be your secret admirer?” 

“Not a clue.” She was lying through her teeth of course, but she couldn’t tell Roxanne this secret. This one had to be just for her and Fred. Taking the note from her friend's hand, she carefully opened it, her cheeks flushing at its words. 

“You were right?” Roxanne murmured. Y/N turned around, glaring. “Sorry. It’s just so interesting.” She pulled the dress out of the box, smiling softly. “It’s a beautiful dress.” 

“It is.” Y/N stood up, holding it against herself as she looked in the mirror. “It really is.” 

“I’ll see you down there, yeah?” Roxanne squeezed her hand. “You look radiant, truly.” 

“Thanks, Rox.” Y/N squeezed back, taking a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.” 

It was a few moments later before she felt brave enough to walk down the grand stone steps. She could hardly breathe, and wearing this dress- Merlin, she hoped tonight was perfect. She rounded the corner, gripping the railing with all of her strength. The crowd at the bottom of the stairs hadn’t turned around in awe, which did wonders for her nerves. She would have hated for people to fuss over her. 

What had made her nervous was the fact that ever since she’d stepped out from behind the corner, Fred had been staring at her so intensely, that she thought she would burst into flames.

Behind Fred, was her date, Theodore Nott. Much like his father, he was stoic and knew what he wanted. When he’d asked her, she thought it had been a joke. But he'd proven to be a kind man underneath it all, and she knew she would have a nice time with him.

Now, she was dreading seeing his face; there was no way that he'd see past her evident feelings for her best friend.

When she finally reached the bottom of the stairs, they was practically standing face to face. Her heart lept, frozen in time. Fred was just standing there, staring at her as intently as before. She quickly stepped around him, making her way to Theo before she would do something she'd regret. 

Her date was rather cheery, which made her cheery as well. He bowed, taking her hand and kissing the back gently. “Your beauty rivals that of a veela, Y/L/N.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She grinned, standing on her tiptoes so that she could kiss his cheek. “But thank you.” 

He smiled, extending his arm. “Shall we?” 

“We shall.” 

“She looks perfect,” Fred murmured, watching her walk into the ballroom. 

Roxanne nodded. “She does.” 

“I’m an idiot, Rox.” 

The girl smiled. “We all make mistakes, Freddie.” 

“I should’ve kissed her.” He whispered so quietly she almost hadn’t heard him. “Has she-” 

She shook her head, and Fred laughed. “How did you know?"

“She’s my best friend, and you're my brother. I know you two better than I know anyone." She smiled, hooking her arm through his. "I knew something was wrong the minute she came back without you."

“I love her.” He practically whined. “Do you know what it feels like to not be with the person you love?” 

She shook her head once more. “I don't. But I can imagine that it’s painful, and it hurts. But then you realize that you would go through it all again…” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Just for the chance to be with them.” 

“Are you having a good time?” Theo felt helpless as he watched his date stare at another man. “I’m sorry if I-” 

“What?” She shook her head. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Are you having a good time?” 

“I should ask you that.” She frowned. Theodore hated it when she frowned, she was too beautiful for that. “I haven’t been a proper Yule Ball date.” 

He smiled, murmuring to himself. “I should have known.”

“I’m sorry?” Her heart stopped. 

“I never should have asked you.” 

“I’m confused.”

“Well, it’s obvious you wanted Weasley to ask you. Right?”

“I-” She looked out at the dance floor, smiling faintly at his horrible dancing. “Unfortunately.” 

He nodded, standing up. “You won’t mind if I-” 

She shook her head,  “I’m really sorry, Teddy.” 

He laughed. “You’re the only person that calls me Teddy.”

“Go talk to her.” Roxanne nudged her brother. “If you keep staring at her from across the room she’s going to think you’re obsessed with her.” 

“I am.” He corrected. “Obsessed with her.” He looked back, tilting his head. “You think I should?” 

“Freddie…” James groaned. “Go talk to her before I do. I’m getting sick of this back and forth. OW!” 

Fred looked over, laughing as Roxanne smacked their cousin over the head. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. Just stop fighting.”

“She’s waiting for you.” Fred tensed at the familiar voice. “Nott.” 

“Weasley,” Theodore responded. “I need you to swear to me that you won’t hurt her.” 

“What are you-” 

The Slytherin’s eyes looked dark, and a chill ran down his spine. Theodore stepped forward, whispering. “Swear it, Weasley.” 

“I swear.”

Theo smiled, not bothering to address Fred any longer, and waved goodbye to the two spectators. “Roxanne, Potter.” 

James glared at their peer as he walked away. “What an odd bloke.” 

She looked radiant. The wind elegantly blew what hair had fallen out of her updo. She looked straight out of that muggle film she’d forced him to watch.

The dress was glowing in the moonlight, she looked like pure magic, but he knew there was no way she wasn’t cold. She always had a shiver, even if it was bright and humid outside. He shrugged his suit jacket off, walking beside her and draping it over her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Freddie.” 

Merlin, her voice was like music to his ears. “Anytime, love.” 

She hadn’t bothered to look over, and it brought comfort to him that she knew it was him without looking. He took a side step closer to her, whispering so that only they could hear. “You wore the dress.” 

She nodded. “You have great taste.” 

“I do, don’t I?” She rolled her eyes, finally looking at him, and he smiled, even if her look was a glare. He held his hands up in surrender, which seemed to be a common theme between them. “All jokes, love.” 

“Did I-” She sighed, turning toward him. “Did I read it wrong?” 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“And if I want to kiss you again-” 

He lunged forward, he couldn’t help himself any longer. He was a coward then, but Godric help him if he was a coward now. Their lips were still touching when he spoke next. “I love you.”

Her eyes were teary. “Fred…” 

“I know you love me too.” He smiled, kissing her again lightly. “In my soul, I know it.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled it up to his chest, placing it directly over his thumping heart. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, I’m sorry that I ignored it, but I’m here now, and I-” He grinned, kissing her again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

“Yeah?” He nudged his nose against hers. “You do know you’re stuck with me, right?” 

“Freddie…” She laughed. “We've been stuck together for eighteen years. The chance to lose me has passed."

"I have never..." He whispered. "And will never want to lose you."

Her heart fluttered, caressing his cheek gently. “It’s snowing.”

He nodded, placing his arm around her waist, swaying back and forth. “It is.”

She giggled. “My, you’re smooth.”

“I pride myself on my charm.” He whispered, leaning down.

Her eyes fluttered shut. “As you should.”

He smiled, their lips barely touching. “You know, you really do look like the moon.”

taglist: @beebeechaos