#i think i'm going to end on a quiet moment

[downbadf0rficppl]

love in the dark

Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: You're used to being Natasha's in the dark, where no one can see you, but what if all the hiding causes insecurities to rear their head and make you question if you are even good enough for this job?

Word Count: 12.5K (CRAZY IK)

AN: Maybe - definitely - OOC Natasha, but I wanted to get my annoyance out somewhere. It's been a long week *crying face*. Anyway, I can't write anything angsty (dk if I would classify this as angst angst but ya know) without a lil bit of fluff at the end so yh. Also sorry that the plot is a bit shit - I haven't reread this and it was a lil bit word-vomity?? Will reread and edit eventually haha. HEA, hurt/comfort vibes? :P

Take your eyes off of me so I can leave

I'm far too ashamed to do it with you watching me

The dim light of morning filters through the curtains as you quietly gather your things, your heart a tangled mess of emotions you’d rather not confront. Natasha’s apartment is always neat—pristine, even in its chaos—but today it feels colder than usual. The aftermath of the night lingers in the air: the weight of intimacy, of bodies pressed together, of shared moments that somehow don't leave a mark, yet always seem to hang over you.

You move with practiced ease, pulling on your clothes, the soft rustle of fabric breaking the stillness. Natasha’s absence from the bed doesn’t surprise you; she’s already up, probably training or doing some task to keep herself distracted, to keep from thinking about the mission, about what happened, about anything. You don’t blame her. You’ve seen the way she handles it—how she compartmentalizes her emotions, how sex is the one thing she doesn’t keep in a box.

The door to her bathroom creaks open as you finish zipping your jacket. She doesn’t look at you, her hair damp from a quick shower, her expression unreadable, almost distant. She grabs her black leather jacket from the chair, pulls it on, and heads to the kitchen, the clink of mugs the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak, but the words always seem to hang on the tip of your tongue, trapped behind something you don’t know how to say. You're younger—years younger—and Natasha... well, Natasha never gives anything away. Not in the way you want her to. Her walls are solid, built from years of training, of being a weapon. And you? You’re just a moment, a fleeting thing in her life.

You find her standing by the window now, her back to you, her figure outlined against the early light. She’s always like this after missions, like she’s trying to rid herself of the weight, trying to get back to being Natasha again, instead of... whatever else she’s forced to be.

“Thanks for last night,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

She doesn’t turn to face you, doesn’t even acknowledge your words immediately. Then, as if the silence is too much to bear, she speaks. “You should go. Goodnight, baby.” Her voice is low, steady, but there's an edge to it—something you can’t quite place.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I know.”

You turn to leave, but something inside you twists, a knot in your stomach that isn’t just from the awkwardness. It’s the realization that, for all the time you’ve spent together, nothing will ever change. This is just routine—an unspoken agreement between the two of you. She'll keep using you to forget, and you’ll keep pretending this isn’t affecting you.

But Natasha doesn’t ask you to stay, doesn’t even look at you as you make your way toward the door. When you reach the threshold, you steal one last glance at her. Her eyes are on the window again, her face set in that familiar, unreadable expression.

You leave without a word, the door clicking softly behind you, and the silence that follows is deafening.

This is never ending, we have been here before

But I can't stay this time, 'cause I don't love you anymore

The quiet hum of the helicarrier was almost calming, the steady vibrations of the engines beneath your feet grounding you after a chaotic mission. You’d never felt more alive than when you were out there—fighting, taking down the bad guys, doing what SHIELD trained you to do. But tonight, that adrenaline wasn’t enough to silence the nagging feeling inside of you. You kept replaying the moments from the mission—the moments with Natasha.

The mission had gone smoothly. You had worked well together, flowing seamlessly as a team, and Natasha had even given you a rare, approving glance when it was all over. It had been a high-stakes op, but everything had fallen into place. When the mission was debriefed, there had been laughter, light-hearted jokes exchanged between agents, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Natasha.

Her touch had lingered, just a moment longer than necessary, when she passed you your gear. Her eyes had met yours once, a flicker of something in them. It was fleeting, but it was enough to make you wonder. Maybe she feels it too, you thought. The way she looked at you, the way she spoke—there was an intimacy in it, a spark you couldn’t quite ignore.

The night had unfolded with a casual invitation to meet in her room. No big deal, she’d said. Just to grab a drink, just to relax. But when you entered her room, it felt different. You both shed the weight of the mission in the space between words, the tension between you growing as the night went on. Her touch had been slow, almost gentle, when it first brushed against your skin. You’d been hesitant, unsure of what was happening, but she seemed so confident, so sure.

It wasn’t until later—after you were tangled up in each other, breathless, skin flushed—that you felt that spark you had hoped for. Maybe she was just as interested, just as real about this as you were. It wasn’t just a mission anymore, not just two agents getting the job done. There was a connection. There was something between you.

But when you stepped out of her room the next morning, something shifted in the air. The way she had casually kissed you on the cheek before you left, the way she didn’t ask you to stay, didn’t look at you the way you hoped—none of it was what you imagined.

Later, you passed a group of agents gathered in a corner of the mess hall, talking in low voices. You’d barely paid them any mind, too focused on your own thoughts, but then you heard it.

“I wonder who Nat picked this time,” one of them had said, laughing. 

“Probably one of the newbies who doesn’t know any better. Gets what she wants, and moves on. No strings attached.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, your heart sinking lower with every syllable. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. The woman you had admired from a distance, the one you had trusted and looked up to, had just used you. And maybe—maybe you had been just another mission for her.

You couldn’t help but feel the sting of that realization. You had wanted more. You had convinced yourself that there was something more to it—that the way she held you, the way she whispered your name had meant something. But no. This was who she was. A lone wolf. Cold. Detached.

You didn’t say anything, of course. You just nodded, forcing yourself to accept what you had heard, forcing yourself to forget what had happened the night before. The optimism you had clung to began to die right then and there. This wasn’t a relationship. This wasn’t something that could grow or change.

You walked back to your quarters, the weight of the mission—and your heartache—settling in your chest. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was easier to be just one of the many in a string of forgettable faces. The night with Natasha had been a blip. No more, no less.

The next time you saw her, you kept your distance, smiled a little tighter, and allowed the walls to go up. There was no point in hoping for something more when you knew exactly how this worked. She was always a few steps ahead of you, always thinking of the next mission, the next fight, never lingering too long in one place.

And you? You learned to accept that. No strings attached. No expectations. Just the way things were.

Please, stay where you are

Don't come any closer

The clang of metal against metal echoed through the training room as you and Natasha sparred. The fight was almost second nature now—quick jabs, swift dodges, and the occasional, playful taunt thrown into the mix. You'd gotten better at handling the pressure, but still, when it came to Natasha, it was hard not to feel like you were always playing catch-up. She was faster, stronger, more experienced. Sometimes, it seemed like she was born to fight.

You threw a punch, aiming for her midsection, but she dodged it with effortless grace, countering with a sharp jab to your ribs. You grunted, stumbling back a step, but you didn’t let it throw you off. You pressed forward, more determined now.

“Not bad,” Natasha said with a smirk, her voice light. “But you’re still weak. You need me to save you again, huh?” She laughed, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

It was a joke, you knew that, or at least, you thought you did. But something about her words hit you differently today. You weren’t in the mood to laugh. You had been pushing yourself hard in training, trying to prove that you could handle it on your own, that you weren’t just some rookie who was always under Natasha’s shadow.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the growing frustration that bubbled in your chest. You swung again, but this time, you missed her entirely. She dodged it effortlessly and caught your wrist in a hold that felt too tight.

“Still not enough,” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I should give you some more training lessons. You know, to make sure I don’t have to keep saving you.”

The joke, the lightness in her voice, it only made you more upset. “Maybe I don’t need saving,” you snapped, trying to pull your wrist free from her grip, your temper flaring. “Maybe I can handle things on my own for once.”

Natasha’s smirk faltered, but she kept her hold firm. “Maybe I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Deep down you knew it was a joke, but it wasn’t funny to you—not today. Not when you already felt the weight of everyone’s whispers hanging over you like a shadow. She’s only here because she’s sleeping with Natasha. She’s nothing without her. Every agent seemed to think the same thing. Even some of your own teammates seemed to treat you like you were just an afterthought, a placeholder who only got the mission because of who you knew, not because of your skill.

You had always tried to prove them wrong. But when Natasha said things like that, it felt like all your efforts were for nothing. Like all of it was just... a joke.

You yanked your arm out of her grip and stepped back, glaring at her. “I don’t need you to save me, Natasha. I don’t need anyone.”

Her expression shifted, the playful edge in her eyes dimming. She didn’t understand. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t hear the things you heard, didn’t feel the weight of the judgment you carried every day. To her, this was just another training session, another moment of playful teasing. But to you? It was like being backed into a corner, your confidence slowly slipping away with every word.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Natasha said, her voice sharp now. “You know I’m just messing with you. Stop getting so moody.”

It stung more than it should’ve. You clenched your fists at your sides, holding back the urge to walk out of the room, to leave her there without another word.

But you didn’t. You just stood there, feeling the walls close in around you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “You think I’m just here for the fun of it. That I can’t do anything without you. You don’t even see it.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed, and she let out a frustrated sigh, dropping her stance. “You’re being overly sensitive.”

You felt the words cut deep, the sting of her dismissal more painful than you wanted to admit. The last thing you wanted was for her to see you as some emotional mess. But it was too late. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, the ache of being ignored, dismissed, and reduced to nothing more than a pawn in her world.

“Fine,” you snapped, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “Maybe I should just go. You don’t need to deal with my mood anymore.”

Natasha didn’t even flinch at your outburst. Instead, she looked at you with a cold indifference. “Then fuck off,” she said bluntly, as if you were just another irritation, another moment she couldn’t be bothered with.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, trying to make sense of it. She didn’t get it. She didn’t understand why you were so angry, why you felt so small in that moment. And you realized, with a sinking feeling in your stomach, that maybe she never would.

You turned and walked away without another word, your chest tight, your emotions a storm inside of you. You didn’t even know where you were going, but you couldn’t stay there, not with her. Not now.

Don't try to change my mind

I'm being cruel to be kind

The words hit like a slap in the face.

You hadn’t meant to overhear it. You had only walked into the SHIELD briefing room to check on some mission updates when Agent Ryder’s voice cut through the air, low but unmistakable.

You could feel the sting of his dismissive tone reverberating in your bones. Nepotism. The word had echoed in your head long after he’d left, taunting you. You knew the truth—your guardian wasn’t some high-ranking official, wasn’t some big shot with connections—but still, how could they say that? How could they reduce your hard work to just that? To nothing but the connections you didn’t even ask for?

You had always tried to prove yourself. Every mission, every task, every step forward was to show you deserved to be here, that you weren’t just some token agent or a pawn in a bigger game. You had trained harder than anyone. You had put in the hours, learned everything you could, sacrificed the same as everyone else. But still, every time you turned around, someone else was whispering behind your back, casting doubt on your worth.

And then there was Natasha. Her teasing had been the last straw. You had tried to laugh it off, to pretend it didn’t bother you, but you knew deep down that the way she dismissed you—it was just another reminder that you were expendable. You weren’t one of them. You were just... a mistake in the system.

So when you walked into the training room the next morning and saw Natasha leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking as relaxed and confident as ever, something inside you snapped.

You didn’t go to her like you usually did. You didn’t smile, didn’t offer the usual greeting. Instead, you simply nodded once, cold and distant.

“Something wrong?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow as she stepped forward.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you turned away from her, grabbing your gear and adjusting it with deliberate care. The silence stretched between you both. You could feel her eyes on you, studying you, waiting for an explanation, but you didn’t owe her one. Not anymore. Not after everything.

“You’re still upset about yesterday, huh?” Natasha’s voice was softer now, but there was an edge to it. A warning, maybe. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

You ignored her, shoving your focus back into the task at hand, determined not to let her see the way your chest tightened. You didn’t want to feel weak. You didn’t want her to know how much her words hurt. You were done with this—done with pretending, done with leaning on her. You were going to prove yourself. You had to.

A few moments passed before Natasha stepped closer, frustration creeping into her tone. “If you don’t stop this, we’re going to have a problem.”

You turned to face her then, finally looking her in the eyes, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “No. We’re not going to have a problem. I’m done with this.” You swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth. “I’m done with you. I’m tired of being treated like I’m some kind of charity case. Like I don’t belong here unless I’m under your shadow.”

Natasha’s face shifted, confusion flashing in her eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You took a step back, your voice rising in frustration. “You think it’s funny, don’t you? All of it. The way you make fun of me. Like it’s just a joke. Well, it’s not. I’ve been busting my ass here, and all you do is remind me that everyone thinks I’m just some charity case. Nepotism. You think that’s a joke? You think I need you to save me?”

Natasha’s expression hardened, her gaze flickering to the side, and then back to you. She crossed her arms, clearly trying to hold her composure. But there was something in her eyes—something tight, something hurt.

“Is this about yesterday?” she asked, her tone sharper now, but there was a hint of concern buried underneath. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not overreacting!” You shot back, unable to hold it in anymore. “You don’t get to dismiss me and then act like nothing happened. I’m not some... some... tool for you to use whenever you want. I’m not some kid you get to play with and forget about when it’s convenient.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, thick with tension. Natasha’s jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You think this is about me using you? You think I’m using you? Is that what you really think?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. That’s what I think.”

Natasha’s eyes flickered with anger, her usual calm demeanor slipping for just a moment. She shook her head, disbelief and frustration written all over her face. “You’ve got it all wrong. But fine, if that’s how you feel, then go ahead. Go prove yourself, like you keep saying you will. But don’t come crawling back to me when you realize you can’t do it alone.”

The words stung, but it was the way she turned and walked away—cold, final—that hit you the hardest. You felt the knot in your chest tighten, but you didn’t call after her. You couldn’t.

You spent the rest of the day avoiding her, your mind racing with doubt and anger. It wasn’t about the mission, not really. It was about feeling like you were fighting a battle on your own, with no one in your corner. The more you tried to distance yourself, the more you realized how much you needed her, even if it hurt to admit it.

But you were stubborn. You had to prove to yourself that you weren’t just here because of someone else. You weren’t going to be Natasha’s shadow anymore.

You couldn’t.

You have given me something that I can't live without

You mustn't underestimate that when you are in doubt

The morning briefing had gone smoothly, the usual debriefing about mission parameters, objectives, and exit strategies. But there was an undercurrent of tension you couldn’t shake. It was just a solo mission—nothing too difficult, Natasha had said, and you knew the protocol well. But the moment she had pulled out, just hours before takeoff, something in your gut twisted.

"It doesn't need to be a two-person mission," Natasha had said with her usual casual smile, but it hadn’t reached her eyes. "It’s easy. You’ve got this." Her voice had sounded almost dismissive, as if she hadn’t been training with you for months, as if she didn’t know how much you relied on her presence during missions. You knew Natasha wasn’t one for emotional goodbyes, but the absence of that small gesture—her usual good luck kiss before every mission—felt like a sign. You had never gone on a mission without one, and now, as you stood alone in the SHIELD hangar, you realized just how much you had come to rely on it.

She hadn’t even given you a heads-up, hadn’t said goodbye with her usual teasing smirk or reassuring look. It’s an easy mission, you told yourself. You don’t need her this time. But the unease in your chest told you otherwise.

You tugged the straps of your gear tighter, glancing once more at the aircraft. The mission was supposed to be straightforward: infiltrate a small criminal syndicate operating out of a hidden base in the mountains, retrieve intel, and get out. You’d handled worse. But you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was off. Your instincts were screaming at you, and for once, you weren’t willing to ignore them.

You checked your wristwatch again. The flight would take a few hours, leaving you with time to prepare mentally, but all you could think about was Natasha. The way she had waved you off with barely a second glance, as if you didn’t matter enough for a goodbye. You tried not to dwell on it. After all, Natasha didn’t do sentiment. But the emptiness in your chest was hard to ignore.

Maybe she’s just busy. Maybe she’s just focused on something else. But none of that helped. You were used to her being there with you, a reassuring presence by your side. You needed her, especially when the missions were dangerous—especially when you felt the weight of the world bearing down on you. But now, you were alone, and that felt heavier than you expected.

As the helicopter’s engines roared to life, you settled back into your seat, trying to center yourself. This mission wasn’t supposed to be difficult. You could do this alone, you kept telling yourself. But something about it didn’t feel right. Maybe it was Natasha pulling out at the last minute. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't given you her usual kiss for luck, the one that always helped you steady your nerves before a mission. But whatever it was, it gnawed at you. Your instincts were telling you to watch your back. Something wasn’t adding up.

By the time you arrived at the drop zone, the helicopter had been quiet for too long. The mountainside stretched ahead, vast and intimidating, and the cold wind carried the promise of danger. You could see the hidden compound from the air—well-guarded, heavily fortified, and far from any backup. A simple mission, Natasha had called it.

You didn’t believe that for a second.

The drop was smooth, and you quickly moved into position, your boots crunching against the frozen ground. The area around the compound was still and eerily quiet. Too quiet. No guards on patrol. No sign of life. It didn’t make sense, but you pushed the unease aside. You had a job to do.

You made your way toward the compound, slipping into the shadows, the cold air biting at your skin. Every step felt calculated, but the tension in your shoulders refused to loosen. You kept glancing over your shoulder, as if expecting Natasha to appear and tell you everything was fine, that this was just another mission to add to the books.

But she wasn’t there.

You reached the compound’s perimeter and found the first guard’s post abandoned, his gear left behind but no sign of a struggle. There was no time to waste. You slipped inside, working quickly to disable the security systems and hack into the mainframe. The room you’d accessed was silent, save for the whir of the computers. As you pulled the intel from the servers, the cold feeling in your gut only grew.

Something wasn’t right. Your instincts had been spot-on—this mission had been a setup.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. You froze, turning off the monitor and moving swiftly toward the exit. You didn’t have time to think. You just had to get out. The sudden realization hit you like a punch in the stomach—Natasha wasn’t here for a reason. She’d known this mission wasn’t as easy as it seemed. And now you were paying the price for going in blind, without her by your side.

Your heart pounded as you sprinted for cover, your mind racing. Every corner you turned felt like a trap. The compound was alive with activity now. You could hear voices, shouts, the sounds of boots hitting the concrete floor.

I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have trusted this mission without her.

You ducked into an alcove, pressing your back to the cold wall, your breath shallow. The door to the room you’d just vacated opened with a quiet click, and a group of armed men poured in, searching for you. The walls seemed to close in on you as the adrenaline kicked in. You had to move, had to get out, or you would be trapped.

Suddenly, your body started to droop, collapsing against the wall behind. The last thing you saw before everything went dark was long red hair tied into a bun. 

But I don't want to carry on like everything is fine

The longer we ignore it, all the more that we will fight

You woke to the sting of cold water splashing across your face, the shock of it making your body jerk awake, muscles aching with the memory of the fight. The pain was sharp, gnawing at your ribs and shoulders, each breath a struggle. The world around you was blurred, and all you could focus on was the weight pressing down on your chest.

Your eyes opened, blurry at first, and then the details started to sharpen: concrete walls, dim lighting, and the cold, oppressive silence that clung to the room. There were metal chairs around you, all empty but one. The leader of the enemy force, a tall man with a face carved from stone, stood before you, a smug look on his face as he held the bucket that had been your rude awakening.

He tossed the remaining ice water in your direction, a small slosh hitting your face as he watched you with cold, calculating eyes. “You’re a tough one,” he said in a low, mocking voice. “I didn’t think you’d last this long. But everyone cracks eventually, don’t they?”

Your throat was dry, and your tongue felt like it was made of sandpaper. You could feel the blood caked on your face, the bruises that were already starting to swell. But despite the pain, despite the overwhelming urge to break, you held your ground. You glared up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear in your eyes.

“You’ve got nothing to say?” the man sneered. “You SHIELD agents are all the same. So loyal. So stupid. You’re all just waiting for your little friends to come save you, aren’t you?”

Your lips pressed together tightly, and you refused to let a single word slip from them. You couldn’t afford to give him anything. Not a single piece of intel, not even a whimper. You knew that if you did, it would all be over.

He stepped closer, placing a booted foot against your thigh, forcing you back against the cold concrete. The pressure was almost unbearable, but you didn’t flinch. The silence between you both stretched, thick and heavy, until he finally gave a humorless laugh and straightened up. “I can wait. All of you are the same. Eventually, you’ll break.”

But you didn’t.

The next few days bled together in a haze of cold, pain, and isolation. The room was a blur of steel, concrete, and fluorescent lights. There were no windows, no sense of time. Your body was sore, covered in cuts and bruises, and the hunger gnawed at you. But you couldn’t give in. Not now. Not when you knew someone would come for you.

They’ll come. They have to.

Every time they came in, it was the same—questions, threats, taunts. And every time, you remained silent. You couldn’t let them know how desperate you were. You couldn’t let them see you break. Even if every part of you screamed for help, you stayed resolute, hoping that somehow, someone would find you, someone would come and end this.

But no one did.

It was only when the fourth day passed, when the darkness of the room had become your world, that you started to feel the weight of your own mind closing in. The silence, the isolation, the constant threat of pain—it started to take a toll on you. The hunger gnawed at your insides, and your thoughts drifted in and out. You could still hear his voice echoing in your head: They’ll come for you. They’ll come...

It was on the sixth day that it happened. A crack in the door. The low hum of voices. The sound of boots. You didn’t move at first, couldn’t. But then, just like that, the door swung open, and a small team of SHIELD agents burst in, guns drawn. They moved quickly, efficiently, sweeping the room and securing the area. You didn’t even have the energy to react as they cut through the restraints on your wrists and helped you to your feet.

"Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” one of them murmured, gently pulling you into their arms.

But the words didn’t register. You could hear them, but it was like they were coming from another world. You felt light-headed, your body numb, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. Your mouth was dry, but you didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

The next few days were a blur of recovery, of medical checks and debriefings that you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to. Every word felt like it was coming from a place far outside of you, and you couldn’t find the strength to answer.

In the quiet, isolated room they had put you in at the base, you sat in silence, staring blankly at the wall. Every noise around you felt too loud. Every touch too much. They gave you time to recover, but you couldn’t shake the heaviness in your chest. Your mind had shut down, your body running on autopilot.

There were no words. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak. The trauma, the isolation, everything that had happened—it left you feeling hollow. Broken.

You didn’t speak at all for days, your body recovering, but your mind still trapped in the darkness of that cold room. The cold man’s words echoed in your head. You’re all waiting for someone to come save you.

But even as the team tried to coax you into talking, even as they brought you your favorite food and gave you the space to recover, the silence remained.

Natasha didn’t come. She wasn’t there when you needed her, and the weight of that felt heavier than any physical wound. It wasn’t her fault. You knew that. But somehow, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still alone.

Your recovery was slow. You weren’t the same person when you were finally cleared to leave the facility. There was a coldness in your eyes, a distance in your posture. The silence you had once embraced had become a shield, and now, it was all you had.

Natasha had visited you once during your recovery. She hadn’t said much, just sat in silence beside you. But even when she reached out to touch your hand, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. The trauma had built walls too high, too thick to break. And no one, not even Natasha, could find their way through.

You were alive, yes. But the silence that followed felt like it would never end.

Please, don't fall apart

I can't face your breaking heart

The sterile scent of the hospital room, the constant hum of machines, and the bright, white lights overhead did little to make you feel at ease. You stared at the ceiling, your gaze unfocused, your mind a swirling mess of everything that had happened. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything. You didn’t feel like you were living—just existing, going through the motions. Every movement felt like an effort, and the space around you felt too small, too suffocating.

You hadn’t spoken since the rescue. Not to anyone. The silence, once a comfort, had become a prison you couldn’t escape. Your throat was raw from the lack of words, and when you closed your eyes, you could still see the cold walls of that room, the mocking face of the enemy leader, and the weight of the isolation pressing down on you.

The door opened, and you didn’t look up. You knew who it was before the first words even registered.

“Are you seriously ignoring me?”

The voice was sharp, familiar, cutting through the fog that had settled around your brain. Natasha.

You didn't respond. You couldn’t. Your mind was screaming for you to stay quiet, to not let her in, because the moment you spoke, you knew it would shatter the wall you’d built to protect yourself. But Natasha didn’t wait for a response. She stormed into the room, her boots heavy on the floor, her expression tight with frustration.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for days,” Natasha continued, her voice rising with every word. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I can’t believe you’re acting like this. It’s been weeks. You’re acting like a damn child, and I’m done with it. I don’t have time for this immature bullshit, especially from you.”

Your chest tightened, a knot of anger and confusion building inside you, but you refused to show it. You couldn’t. You knew better than to let her see the storm inside you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t follow your schedule,” you said, your voice flat and devoid of emotion. You couldn’t bring yourself to add any more, any more than the words that barely scraped out. Sorry for being alive, sorry for failing.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she took a few steps closer, standing at the side of your bed. Her face was hard, her anger not hiding the concern that still flickered beneath. “You think this is easy for me, too? That I just get to pretend nothing happened? That I’m supposed to just let you wallow in here like—like this?” Her voice broke slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. “This is fucking ridiculous, and I’m not going to stand here and watch you ruin everything you’ve worked for. Do you understand me? You’re going to lose everything.”

The sting of her words cut deep, but it was the accusation in her tone that truly hit you. The one that had been festering in your chest ever since you’d been dragged out of that hellhole. You weren’t who you thought you were. You weren’t the person who deserved this life. The dream job, the recognition, the chance to be someone worth a damn—none of it was meant for you. Not after everything that had happened. You weren’t strong enough to keep it all, to be who they thought you were. And Natasha—Natasha, who had always been a silent pillar of strength for you, was now reminding you how easily it could all be taken away.

Her words stung. Immature... Ruin everything... You could feel the weight of her disappointment settle into your chest like a stone, heavier than anything you had ever felt.

And then, it clicked.

The final straw broke. Natasha didn’t understand. She didn’t understand the extent of what had happened to you—the isolation, the pain, the days spent waiting for someone to find you, and the crushing feeling that no one would. You were broken, and she was treating it like it was just a phase. That you just needed to snap out of it.

But you couldn’t.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, the pain from your injuries flaring in protest, but you pushed through. You weren’t sure where you were going, but you couldn’t stay here any longer. You had to leave. You had to escape the judgment, the expectations. You couldn’t pretend to be strong anymore.

“Don’t walk away from me!” Natasha snapped, but you were already moving. You couldn’t be near her right now. The anger, the betrayal—it was all too much.

Ignoring her calls, you grabbed the nearest coat, not caring that it didn’t quite fit right, and you made your way out of the room. You could hear her following you, her footsteps echoing behind you, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t owe her anything anymore.

You didn’t owe anyone anything.

It didn’t take long to get to the secure office where you had to sign a few papers before they cleared your discharge. You barely registered the words the agent at the desk was saying. You barely noticed the fact that your fingers were trembling. You only had one thing on your mind—the resignation letter you had been drafting in your head for days.

You placed it on the desk in front of the agent, your hands shaking slightly as you slid the paper over to them. The words were short and to the point, and they made everything feel so final. So irreversible.

“I’m resigning,” you said, voice hoarse. “Effective immediately.”

The agent didn’t ask questions. They just nodded, their face unreadable, and then went about processing the paperwork. You watched, numb, as the reality of it all settled over you like a weight that you could never lift. You had dreamed of this job for so long, had worked so hard to get here, only to throw it all away because you didn’t deserve it anymore.

And in that moment, you felt everything you’d been holding in for weeks. The grief. The betrayal. The isolation. It all came rushing back, but you didn’t cry. You couldn’t cry. The numbness, the emptiness, it was all you had now.

You stood up, turning away from the desk, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of finality wash over you. No turning back.

It wasn’t until you were almost out the door that you heard Natasha’s voice again, this time softer, more desperate. “Wait.”

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

The door shut behind you with a soft click, and the world outside felt both too big and too small at the same time. You were alone now. Completely, irrevocably alone.

And somehow, that felt like the only truth you could rely on anymore.

I'm trying to be brave

Stop asking me to stay

Clint’s sharp eyes caught you before you could make it out of the door, his footsteps quick as he crossed the hallway. He was dressed in his usual casual gear, a quiver slung over his shoulder, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

“Hey, wait,” Clint said, his voice softer than it usually was when he called someone out. You didn’t stop. Your feet kept moving, your heart hammering as you tried to escape. But Clint was relentless. He grabbed your arm gently but firmly, turning you around to face him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice laced with something like disappointment. “You can’t just walk out on everything. Nat’s worried sick.”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy, exhausted. “I don’t need anyone’s pity,” you muttered, your voice strained. “Not hers, not anyone's. Just... just leave me alone.”

Clint studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing with understanding. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a quieter corner, away from the main corridors, where he knew you wouldn’t be overheard.

"Look," Clint said, his voice lower now, softer but still firm, "I don’t know what kind of crap Nat's been feeding you, but I can tell you're hurting. You think you can just walk away from everything, like it’ll make things better? You think that's gonna fix anything?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t bring yourself to. But Clint didn’t need an answer.

“I hear things,” Clint went on. “I’ve been around long enough to know when someone’s trying to hide something. And I’ve been in the rafters during most of those 'training' sessions with Nat. You think you’re the only one who feels small, huh?” His voice turned bitter, a subtle edge to it. “You think you’re the only one she’s pushed away?”

You stared at him, shocked, unable to respond. Clint saw right through you. He knew what was happening, and he wasn’t going to let it slide.

“She’s been messing with your head, hasn’t she?” Clint said. “Somehow, you think you’re not good enough, that you don’t belong here. You think everything you’ve done has been handed to you on a silver platter because of her. Well, let me tell you something—that’s not true.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you still didn’t speak. It was like you couldn’t find the words. The guilt, the shame, the feeling of never measuring up to the expectations—they all churned in your stomach.

Clint let out a long, frustrated sigh, his eyes softening. “You’re good enough,” he said, his tone firm, but there was an understanding there that made your throat tighten. “You’ve earned every bit of your place here. And if she can't see that, then she's the one who’s in the wrong. It’s not about who you know or who you're sleeping with. You’re here because of you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

You felt the tears welling up, but you forced them back, swallowing the lump in your throat. Clint’s words had landed hard, and it was like a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding was finally being released. But before you could say anything, Clint stepped closer, lowering his voice even more.

“Natasha…” Clint trailed off, his jaw tightening. “She’s been a mess lately. She’s scared—scared of losing you, scared of messing things up. But she doesn’t know how to apologize for anything. She’s been pushing you away because she’s too afraid to admit what she’s done. So yeah, she's been selfish. But you can’t just run away from everything. You deserve better than that."

Your heart twisted at his words, and for a moment, you felt that familiar pang of wanting to believe everything he said. But the hurt was still there, the feeling of being abandoned in your most vulnerable moment. You didn’t trust yourself enough to believe that you were the one who mattered.

Clint left you with a small pat on your shoulder - he couldn’t blame you for wanting to leave, he just wanted you to know the truth that Nat definitely wasn’t going to tell you. Now to chew her out. It didn’t take long for Clint to find her. Natasha was pacing the hall just outside, her face etched with frustration. The second Clint approached her, she shot him a glare.

“Where the hell is she?” Natasha demanded, her voice tight with anxiety. “You didn’t—”

Clint held up a hand to stop her. “Sit down,” he ordered. “And listen. I’m done with you thinking you can just brush this off like it’s nothing.”

Natasha’s jaw clenched, but she stood still. Clint’s eyes were hard, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t holding back.

“You’ve been treating her like shit, Natasha,” Clint continued, his voice rising just enough to get her attention. “You think she’s the problem? That she’s just acting ‘immature’ or ‘childish’? Look around you for two seconds. You’ve been pushing her away, making her feel like she’s not good enough, like she doesn’t deserve anything she’s worked for. You’ve been feeding her insecurities—her real ones—with your own mess. And, she’s traumatised. Those guys out there, the ones that tortured her for six days because she went in without an extraction plan”

Natasha opened her mouth to argue, but Clint cut her off with a sharp motion.

“I hear things,” Clint said. “I’m up in the rafters sometimes. I hear the crap that other people say about her when they think no one’s listening. They question her place on the team because her dad was an officer in Fury’s good graces, or because they think you play favourites with her. They don’t realise that you’ve got something else going on, but all that shit compounded. You’ve made one of our best agents question everything about herself.”

Natasha’s face went pale, her expression shifting from anger to guilt in an instant. “Clint, I—”

“You’re lucky she didn’t quit sooner, Natasha. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you didn’t see how bad she was hurting.” Clint’s words hit like a slap. “Now go find her. And you better make this right, because if you don’t Fury is gonna be pissed.” The ‘and I’ went unspoken.

We're not the only ones, I don't regret a thing

Every word I've said, you know I'll always mean

Natasha stopped at the entrance of Tony’s stupid ‘serenity garden’. It was the last place she had left to look, and it looked like luck was on her side. You were sitting on one of the benches in the corner, your back to her as you stared into the depths of the Koi pond. It was like you were a part of the landscape now, blending into the tranquility of the place. Natasha felt her throat tighten at the sight. You looked so small, so vulnerable, so distant. She had never seen you like this—not once. It was always her who had the walls up, not you.

She took a cautious step forward, the grass underfoot crunching softly as she neared you.

Natasha called your name softly, her voice hesitant, like she was testing the waters. You didn’t respond immediately, and for a brief second, Natasha was unsure if you had even heard her. The silence between you felt thick, almost unbearable. She sat down beside you, not too close, but close enough that she hoped you could feel her presence.

It wasn’t the same as before—when she had always known what to say to you, when her words had always been sure, always laced with a confidence that kept her safe. But now? Now she had no idea how to begin. Her usual sharp tongue had failed her. There were no easy words to break the ice this time, no snarky jokes to hide behind. Only you—and the wreckage she had left in her wake.

You turned your head just slightly, enough to see her. The surprise in your eyes caught her off guard. You’re surprised to see me here, Natasha realized. You didn’t expect her to come. You didn’t expect her to care enough to seek you out.

And for the first time ever, Natasha didn’t know what to say.

Her mind was racing, every thought colliding into the next. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She glanced at you, her expression filled with uncertainty. She could feel the weight of everything she had said, everything she had done, everything she had failed to do. The words that had always come so easily to her were nowhere to be found now. It was as if the depth of your hurt had trapped her, left her speechless, helpless.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t moved, hadn’t turned to face her entirely, but your gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than usual. You could sense her struggle—Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, speechless for the first time in your memory.

“Nat?” you finally said, the question carrying more weight than it should. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice, hoarse and small, like the person you had been before all of this had come crashing down.

She looked at you, the smallest glimmer of relief flickering in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with the same guilt she had been carrying for days now.

“I…” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

You blinked at her, surprised. This was the first time you’d ever seen Natasha lost for words. You’d always been the one fumbling for the right thing to say, the one who couldn’t figure out how to get past the pain. But she—Natasha Romanoff, the one who always had control, always knew how to navigate even the most dangerous situations—she was the one who was struggling now.

It was like the world had shifted, and the unshakable woman you had always known had suddenly become... human.

It is the world to me that you are in my life

But I want to live and not just survive

Her voice was soft, as if the weight of everything she had been holding was finally catching up with her. “I messed up,” she said quietly. “I messed up, baby. And I... I don’t know how to make it right.”

Your chest ached as her words hit you. The vulnerability in her eyes was raw, and it took everything in you to keep the tears from falling.

“I’ve been a mess,” Natasha continued, her eyes looking straight ahead, not daring to meet yours. “I didn’t realize how badly I was hurting you... And I was so wrapped up in my own shit that I just—I pushed you away. I thought you’d be fine. I thought you’d understand. But I see now that I made everything worse.”

You swallowed, the words feeling like they weighed a ton in your chest. You couldn’t speak, not yet. But you turned your head slightly to face her, your gaze still unreadable.

“I never wanted to make you feel like you don’t belong here,” Natasha said, her voice breaking slightly. “I never wanted you to think that you were here because of me, or that you weren’t good enough.” Her lips tightened, frustration and regret flooding her features. “I just—I didn’t know how to deal with my own feelings. And I made you think I didn’t care. But I do. I care. I care about you more than you could ever know.”

The silence stretched out between you both, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Natasha felt small. Her pride, her strength—all the things that had always defined her—were gone, stripped away by the vulnerability of this moment.

You glanced at her, studying her face. It was like you were seeing her for the first time—broken, fragile, and unsure.

And for the first time, you allowed yourself to feel the smallest sliver of hope.

“I don’t know if you can fix this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I need you to know something, Natasha. I needed you. And you—you—were the one who turned away.”

Her chest tightened at the weight of your words, but she didn’t flinch. She nodded slowly, accepting the truth, knowing it wasn’t something that could be undone in a moment. The air between you and Natasha felt heavy with words you couldn’t articulate. You had remained silent for so long, allowing her apology to linger in the air like a fragile thing—something too delicate to touch, to hold onto. But now, with the weight of her words pressing down on you, you couldn’t remain silent any longer.

“I’m leaving,” you said, the words steady, though they felt like they weighed a thousand pounds in your chest. You weren’t sure why you were telling her this now, but you had to. You had to make it real, to take control of something in your life again.

“I’m transferring,” you added, your voice quiet but firm. “I’m going to Quantico. I’ll be working with the FBI as a consultant. It’s not what I thought I’d be doing, but... I don’t deserve to be here anymore. I got the hint.”

The words felt like a confession, a goodbye you hadn’t yet found the courage to say. There had been so many dreams—so many things you’d imagined for yourself at SHIELD. You had fought for them, worked tirelessly, sacrificed for them. But now, they felt like they were slipping away.

Natasha didn’t say anything at first. She didn’t even look at you. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, like she was trying to find the words. You knew what she’d say. She’d tell you that you were making a mistake, that you had so much potential. But it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would fix what had been broken.

You could feel the emotions swirling inside of you, but you had already made your decision. It was easier to walk away, easier than confronting everything that had gone wrong.

But then, she spoke. And it was different from anything you’d expected.

“You’re the best SHIELD has to offer,” Natasha said, her voice steady, though there was an underlying urgency in it. “You’re the best agent we’ve got, baby. I... I don’t think you see it. You’ve done things that people can’t even dream of. You’ve proven yourself time and time again. You’ve earned your place here. And I know I haven’t made it easy for you, but you belong here.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite comprehend what she was saying. Her voice was fierce now, insistent, and you could hear the raw sincerity in it. But none of it felt real. None of it felt true, not in the way you needed it to.

“I don’t believe you,” you said, your voice quiet, almost lost in the distance between you. “I don’t think I’ve ever truly belonged here. Not in the way you think. I’m not you, Nat. I’m not cut from the same cloth. I’m just—me. And I’ve been holding on to a dream that doesn’t fit. Not anymore.”

Natasha’s expression faltered. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her tongue. She could feel your resolve, could see how broken you were, how done you seemed. It was like you had already left—mentally, emotionally, even before physically walking away.

Her chest tightened. “Baby, listen—"

But you shook your head, cutting her off. “Whatever you’re going to say, Nat, I’ve heard it all.” You inhaled sharply, the words rushing out. “And I’ve finally started hearing what’s been said. And now I’m seeing what’s been true all along. I’m not enough, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I give. And you... you’ve made it clear that I’ll never be anything but a second choice. I was just a comfort to you, a distraction. You made me feel like I needed to prove myself—like I needed to earn my place, but I did. I did, and it never mattered.”

There was a pause. Natasha’s lips trembled, the harshness of your words sinking in. She knew she had been wrong, knew she had made everything worse. But hearing you speak this way—so broken, so defeated—it shattered something deep inside her.

"Please..." Natasha's voice faltered, her tough exterior cracking. She reached out toward you, but the gesture was hesitant, unsure. “I never meant for it to be like this. I never wanted to make you feel—”

You pulled away, standing up slowly, the decision final in your mind. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve made my choice. I’m leaving. And I don’t think you’ll miss me that much anyway. It’s easier to pretend like you don’t need anyone than to admit you might be wrong about something.”

That's why I can't love you in the dark

It feels like we're oceans apart

Before you could take another step, you felt a hand grip yours. Warm, strong, and unyielding. Natasha had caught up with you, her fingers laced around yours, holding you in place. You didn’t turn around. You weren’t sure you wanted to face her again, not after everything that had been said, not after the rawness that she had exposed.

Natasha’s voice was softer now as she called your name, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “Please, just—don’t walk away yet.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing pulse, but it was hard when every part of you wanted to run. You didn’t stop, but neither did she.

Her grip tightened, pulling you back just a little, her touch sending a mix of warmth and tension straight through you. When she spoke again, her voice wasn’t the confident agent you were used to, the one who had always kept her emotions under lock and key. There was something different now, something uncertain, almost as if she wasn’t sure of her place in your world anymore.

“I’ve messed up,” Natasha continued, her voice shaking with emotion. “I know I pushed you too hard. I know I made you feel like you weren’t enough, like you didn’t belong here, and... I did that because I wanted you to be the best. I wanted you to be safe. I was afraid that if anything happened to you—if I lost you on a mission, I—I don’t think I could survive it.”

You could feel her breath, the rise and fall of her chest close behind you, but you didn’t turn around. Not yet. Her words hit you like a wave crashing into the shore, raw and jagged, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to process them.

“I pushed you because I was scared. And in trying to protect you... I ended up pushing you away,” she whispered, the confession hanging in the air, the depth of it too much to ignore. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. I was so so wrong.”

The air between you both was thick with everything she had just said, and you stood there for a long moment, processing it all. But it wasn’t enough, not yet. You couldn’t bring yourself to face her—not yet.

“I don’t know how to forgive you for this, Natasha,” you said, your voice a mixture of anger and hurt. It wasn’t snark this time, no biting sarcasm, just raw emotion. "The only time something terrible happened to me, something that almost killed me, was when you abandoned me. You made the call. You didn’t show up. I was out there, all alone, and you weren’t there when I needed you most.”

Your chest tightened as you spoke, the hurt pouring out like it always had, but now it was different. Now, it wasn’t just anger. It was a deep, aching sadness that threatened to drown you. And despite yourself, you couldn’t stop the words from coming. “You made me feel like I wasn’t worth it. Like I wasn’t worth anything.”

You could feel Natasha’s breath hitch behind you, the weight of your words striking her deep. She didn’t say anything at first, and when you finally turned around, you saw the truth in her eyes—guilt, sorrow, and a pain you hadn’t expected. The sight of it, the way her face crumpled in on itself, broke something inside you.

Her hand fell away from yours, but it wasn’t because she wanted to let go. It was because she was shaking, trembling with emotion that she could no longer hold in. And then you saw it—tears. Two, maybe three, glistening on her cheeks. Natasha Romanoff, the unshakable Black Widow, was crying.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I didn’t. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to make you feel abandoned. I... I couldn’t bear the thought of you in danger. But... I hurt you worse by pushing you away.”

For the first time in all the years you’d known her, you saw Natasha unraveling in front of you, breaking apart piece by piece. It felt almost cruel, to see her like this after everything you’d been through. But as much as your heart ached for her, you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“You can’t just apologize and expect everything to be okay, Nat,” you said, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “You hurt me. You made me feel worthless, like I wasn’t enough. And when it mattered the most... when I was out there fighting to survive, you turned your back on me.”

Natasha flinched at the force of your words. They were like a punch to the gut, and you saw how much it hurt her to hear them. But the truth was, you couldn’t keep pretending that everything would just magically be okay.

“I know,” Natasha said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know. And I can’t take that back. I can’t make up for it. But... I just need you to know, I care. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you care,” you said softly, but your voice still carried that edge of distance. “But that’s not enough anymore. I don’t know how to keep going back to the way things were. I can’t keep coming back to you only to be left in the dark again.”

There was a long silence, the kind that seemed to stretch on forever, and Natasha stood there, her shoulders slumped, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She was broken, but that didn’t change the fact that what she’d done had hurt you in ways you weren’t sure could ever heal.

“You’re right,” she said finally, voice cracked. “You deserve more than this. You deserve better. Someone who won’t make you feel like you have to earn their care, someone who won’t turn their back when things get hard.”

You stood there, feeling the weight of the finality in her words, and for a long time, you didn’t know what to say. You looked at her—the broken woman in front of you—and you realized that, despite everything, despite all the hurt, you didn’t want to stay. You needed to walk away. For yourself.

“I need to walk away, Natasha,” you said quietly, your voice steady but firm. “I don’t know what we were, what we are anymore. But I can’t do this anymore.”

You turned towards the exit, your steps unfaltering as you walked away. Natasha half expected - hoped - you’d turn around and run to her. But you didn’t. You walked away, slowly, your footsteps fading into the distance, away from SHIELD and away from her.

There is so much space between us

Baby, we're already defeated

A year later…

It was a quiet evening when you walked into the bar after a long day, your mind still buzzing with the details of your latest case. Quantico was different to SHIELD in almost every way. The people were different, the procedures were different, but you found that - after getting into the swing of things - it wasn’t worse. Just different. 

The dim lighting of the bar, the hum of conversation, the clink of glasses—it was a familiar comfort now, one that made you feel grounded after the chaos of your job. You ordered a drink and leaned against the bar, letting your shoulders drop, the weight of the day lifting slowly.

That was when you saw her.

Natasha Romanoff, standing across the room, her back slightly to you as she talked to a stranger at the bar. But even from behind, something about her caught your attention. She looked different. Older, somehow. More... mature. The woman you had known was always poised, confident, and untouchable—but there was something in the way she held herself now that made her feel more human. Vulnerable, even.

Her hair was different too—shorter, sleek, straight, a stark contrast to the wavy red that had once framed her face. She had always been beautiful, but now she seemed to radiate something else—something quieter, more grounded.

You stared for a moment, unsure if you were seeing things right, but as she turned to glance around the bar, her eyes met yours. Recognition hit her almost immediately, and she froze for a second, her expression flickering with surprise. Then, just as quickly, it softened.

Her voice was a little hoarse as she whispered your name, almost like she hadn’t expected to see you here, or maybe she hadn’t heard your name in so long that saying it felt foreign.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just watched her—really looked at her—before taking a slow step forward. “Natasha.” Your voice was calm, composed. Different from the way you used to say her name with that sense of longing, of wanting something that wasn’t ever going to be.

She gave a small, tentative smile, the kind that spoke volumes about how much time had passed, about how many things had been left unsaid between you. "You look... good," she said, her eyes flickering over you.

It was an understatement. You felt good. You felt like you were finally living a life that wasn’t defined by the weight of the past, by the mistakes you’d made and the ones others had made for you.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, with a small smile of your own. “You look different. I like it.”

“Yeah.” She ran a hand through her new, shorter hair, a nervous habit, before looking back at you. “A lot’s changed.”

“Clearly,” you said, glancing around. You couldn’t help but take in the way she stood—so different from the woman who had always been so self-assured, so used to being in control of every situation. But in a way, it made her more real, more approachable.

The two of you stood there for a moment, the air between you awkward but not uncomfortable, as if neither of you knew where to start. It was Natasha who broke the silence first.

“So, how’ve you been?” she asked, her voice softer than you remembered it. “Really?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, unsure if she even knew what really meant anymore, after everything. But it was a simple enough question. And you’d spent the last year being honest with yourself, so why not? “I’m doing alright. Different. Moving on. Got a new job at Quantico. Therapy’s been helping. I’m in a better place now.”

Natasha nodded, though you saw the flicker of something behind her eyes—a mix of regret, of longing, maybe. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve... I’ve been trying to do the same. It’s been a long year. Things haven’t been easy, but I think I’m getting there.”

You studied her for a moment, your expression unreadable. The quiet honesty in her voice made you want to believe that she was trying. You could see it now. She had changed too.

“You’re still working for SHIELD?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation casual, as if the past didn’t hang over both of you like a thick, invisible cloud.

She nodded, but there was a hesitation in her movements. “Sort of. I’ve been taking a step back, working in a different capacity now. More... behind the scenes. I guess I’m trying to figure out who I am, outside of all the missions, the work.”

It hit you—she was no longer the same person either. The intensity in her eyes had softened, and there was a certain sadness to her that you hadn’t seen before. She seemed tired in a way that wasn’t physical—tired of running, of hiding behind the façade she had built. You hadn’t seen this version of her before, and in some ways, you almost didn’t know how to react.

“So... what now?” you asked, the question feeling lighter than it should. “Now that we’re both here, like this.”

Natasha’s eyes met yours, and there was a long pause, the weight of everything that had passed between you hanging heavily in the air. And then, almost as if on instinct, you spoke.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” You offered the invitation like it was just a reflex—like things could go back to the way they were, the comfort of those old habits, the way things had felt when it was just the two of you, before everything had gone sideways.

She looked at you for a long moment, and you saw the conflict in her eyes. She was torn, and you could see in her eyes, that something was playing on her mind.

“No.” 

Everything changed me

And I don't think you can save me

The words hit you like a jolt, a shock of electricity shooting through your chest. Natasha’s eyes were steady on yours now, no longer hesitant, no longer uncertain. There was a firmness in her voice that you hadn’t heard in a long time—a quiet confidence that seemed to say she’d finally found something worth fighting for. And for the first time in a long time, you saw Natasha Romanoff not as the untouchable spy, not as the woman who had left you behind, but as someone real, someone who had learned from her mistakes.

“I’m not going to make the same mistake twice,” she said, her voice low but with an undeniable certainty. “If you want me, I’m going to do it properly this time. No more running, no more half-heartedness. I’ve hurt you, and I won’t do it again. But this time, it’s going to be on our terms. If that’s okay with you.”

You stared at her for a long moment, taking in the gravity of what she was saying, the weight of the promise she was offering. For so long, you’d wondered if this day would ever come. The idea of this—of her asking—had seemed impossible, a distant dream you never thought you’d reach.

And yet, here she was, standing before you, offering a chance to try again. A real chance.

“Dinner tomorrow?” she asked, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. “If you're free?”

You didn’t have to think long. The question felt so simple, so natural, in a way that almost made you want to laugh at how easy it seemed compared to everything that had come before.

"Yeah," you said, the answer escaping your lips before your mind had fully processed it. "I’m free."

Natasha’s smile deepened, the corners of her eyes softening as she took in your response. It was a quiet victory for her—one that meant more than words could convey. She wasn’t expecting you to forgive her immediately, or to trust her completely. But she was willing to try, and that was more than she had ever given before.

“I’ll pick you up,” she said softly, her voice almost shy now. “I’ll make sure it’s a good night.”

You nodded, still processing the fact that she was here, still standing in front of you, willing to do what she hadn’t done before. And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth saving between the two of you.

“Sounds good,” you replied, a quiet confidence settling in your own chest. “Tomorrow then.”

With that, Natasha gave you one last look, a small, genuine smile gracing her face, before she turned and walked out of the bar. You stood there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between you two, and then, for the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to feel something else—hope.

Tomorrow. You were willing to see where it could go. And maybe, just maybe, Natasha Romanoff was going to do it right this time.

You saved me.

The evening had been everything and nothing like you expected.

Dinner was at a beautiful, upscale restaurant with soft candlelight flickering across polished wood tables, glasses of wine that felt far too expensive, and Natasha—sitting across from you, more present than she had ever been. She wasn’t the untouchable agent, the mysterious woman who kept her emotions locked away. She was Natasha, just Natasha, in the soft glow of the candlelight, her laughter filling the space between the two of you, the lightness in her eyes almost enough to make you forget the weight of the years spent apart.

The night had been filled with easy conversation, the kind that flowed without effort, as though the years of silence hadn’t really existed. But it had. They had.

And yet, here you were, sitting across from her in a place that made your own paycheck look laughable, eating food that was far too rich for your taste, and all you could think about was how right this felt. You hadn’t expected it to be this natural, this easy to fall back into old rhythms, the way she looked at you like you were the only person in the room. And by the time you were back at your apartment, after a night of shared glances and a warmth between you that neither of you had ever truly experienced before, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You wanted her. You needed her. And maybe, just maybe, you were ready to give her another chance, to let her love you, to let yourself love her again.

The moment your door clicked shut behind you both, Natasha pulled you into her, her lips capturing yours with an urgency that felt foreign, yet so familiar. There was no hesitation this time, no walls between you. Her hands roamed to your sides, pulling you closer, as though she couldn’t get enough. You met her halfway, losing yourself in the kiss, in the warmth of her touch, the way she made you feel like everything would be okay.

It wasn’t just the kiss though. It was what she said in between—her voice breaking the quiet with a rawness you hadn’t expected.

“I love you,” Natasha whispered against your lips, her hands tender as they traced over the curve of your jaw, as though she was afraid to let go. “I love you. And I never want to keep you hidden again. I’m done pretending I don’t need you. You’re everything.”

Her words hit you like a wave. They didn’t come with the weight of shame or regret this time. They were just the truth—simple, honest, and real. She loved you. After everything, after all the mistakes, she still loved you.

You breathed out a soft laugh, a tear slipping down your cheek at the raw vulnerability in her voice. She reached up, brushing it away with her thumb, as if she could erase the past for you, make everything better with that one gentle gesture.

“I’ve missed you,” you said quietly, your voice catching in your throat. “I’ve missed this.”

Natasha smiled, a single finger running down your cheek. "I don't want to hide you anymore. Let me love you in the light."

fin.

[minswriting]

MEDICINE - SPENCER REID X READER

About: The team goes out for drinks after a successful case and Spencer already knows that he’s going to end up taking you home.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, public handjob, public fingering (f), finger sucking, post!prison spencer, smallest mention of hand kink, brief bisexual spencer mention, reader gets fingered in the back of a taxi, spencer gets a handjob in the bar, oral (f), drunk sex, briefest mention of throwing up (doesn’t even happen, just a passing comment), rough sex, guys this is really just dirty porn. if i missed any warnings, just lmk!

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Hey guys! This fic is based off of Medicine by Harry Styles. The lyrics are out of order because they’re meant to go with the story lol. Please comment and reblog with your thoughts!

I'm here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Treat you like a gentleman

Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline

I think I'm gonna stick with it

It was a warm spring night as the team had just returned from a very successful case in Kansas City, Missouri. A case that had involved children being kidnapped had ended with all of the kids being alive and well, returned to their parents unharmed. Seeing the happy faces on the families’ faces was heartwarming and gave the team a sense of fulfillment with their positions, a consensus that not everything is always so traumatic.

When they had landed back in Quantico, the drive back to the Bureau was filled with chatter and laughter as everyone relished in their triumph. You and Spencer were sitting next to one another, thighs grazing as you both paid attention to what Luke and Tara were talking about.

“We should celebrate with a couple of drinks,” Tara exclaimed loudly enough for the rest of the team to hear.

“Oh, that sounds like so much fun,” JJ practically groaned in excitement, leaning her head back. “I haven’t had a night out in ages and the boys are at my mother’s for the weekend while Will is down in New Orleans.”

“We most certainly have to invite Penelope as soon as we arrive at the Bureau,” Emily said from the passenger seat, grinning through the rearview mirror. “What about you two in the back?” Emily asked, looking at you and Spencer.

Spencer gave you a subtle glance with a quirked eyebrow. An unspoken question as to whether you were going to go out or not. If you did, Spencer already knew that he would because you were very persuasive.

You were unsure of how this whole thing started. One day, after Spencer had gotten back from prison, the two of you were alone in the bullpen, and then the next moment you were in the elevator as Spencer fingered you so fast that you had cum in what felt like a record amount of time. That night ended with you in Spencer’s bed as he pounded you into oblivion.

Perhaps it had been a long time in the making. The glances you two shared, the way Spencer always looked at you as though you were an art piece that was to be admired, the way Spencer’s intelligence never failed to make you clench your thighs. Flirtatious comments passed as just comments about the cases.

“I’m down,” You said, smiling at Emily.

And that’s how Spencer knew he was spending his night with you.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it

The bar atmosphere was loud and chaotic with crappy pop music playing over the speakers and drunk people watching the latest baseball game on the television. It wreaked of alcohol, as bars usually do, and sweat with the random people that were dancing to the shitty music drunkenly. Penelope had pulled Luke to the dance floor, dancing stupidly to “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga with JJ following behind. Rossi was playing pool with Matt while Tara and Emily played Darts. Which left you all alone with Spencer in a booth that was in a quiet corner of the bar.

You were sipping some fruity cocktail that Penelope had made you order, exclaiming that it would taste delicious. She was right, of course, but you weren’t going to allow her the satisfaction of knowing that. Spencer had a beer in front of him though it was untouched. He didn’t like to drink much.

“I’m surprised you came out with us,” You said, putting your glass down as you glanced at Spencer. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you. One that told you that you were certainly going home with him tonight. You always do.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders, finally picking up the beer. He slowly brought the glass up to his lips, taking a small sip before grimacing. “Oh, that tastes so bad,” he cringed, putting the glass back down. He licked his lips, still grimacing.

“Now why did you order a beer when you literally hate them?” You asked, laughing as you took another sip of your drink.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Because Luke told me this brand tastes good and I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt,” He sighed, pushing the glass away.

“Luke also doesn’t have taste when it comes to alcoholic beverages so I’m not entirely sure why you trusted him this time,” You giggled. You held your glass out for Spencer to try. “Here, try this. It tastes much better.”

Spencer looked at the glass in your hands as you held it up to Spencer’s face. He hesitated momentarily before putting his lips on your straw and taking a tentative sip of the cocktail. “That is pretty good,” he said after swallowing, nodding. “Did you know that the Daiquiri is one of the first iconic fruity cocktails as we know them today? It was invented around 1898. But it could be theorized that there were earlier versions of these cocktails.” Spencer rambled, using his hands as he spoke.

You couldn’t help the smile on your lips as you watched Spencer with interest. The way his voice sounded and how his face, which had become hardened from the trauma of prison, relaxed and looked more like himself again, and how excited he got talking about these facts, it never failed to make you swell with both lust and admiration for the genius.

As Spencer went on about alcohol, you ordered him the same drink as yourself. And the two of you enjoyed a nice conversation while drinking. It was always so easy with him, talking about anything and everything under the sun.

You both were on your third drink when you began feeling more flirty. While you guys were away on the case, you and Spencer hadn’t had any time to spend together in your hotel rooms. So of course, you were craving him. You were always craving Spencer.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of how you tasted

You put your hand on Spencer’s thigh as he rambled to you about the different types of alcohol and where they derived from. It was an action that Spencer certainly didn’t miss but he didn’t question it either as he continued his sentence. Your hand stayed there for a few moments before slowly moving upward, inching towards his cock. And when you began palming him through his trousers, Spencer stopped speaking entirely, looking at you. “What are you doing?” He hissed out, unable to help the way his cock was immediately hardening under your light touch.

“Relax,” you murmured before looking around, ensuring no one was near you guys. And luckily, no one was. You moved your hand to Spencer’s zipper, unzipping it enough to slip your hand to palm him through his briefs. “No one is paying attention to us,” you said while smirking at Spencer.

Spencer sighed, looking around before looking at you. He should’ve known you were going to pull something like this with the way you’ve been looking at him all night. And in his tipsy and horny mind, he just sits back in the booth, allowing you to work your magic.

You slid your hand under his briefs, grabbing Spencer’s cock. You were careful not to pull it out, wanting to ensure that you could quickly pull away just in case. You began stroking him slowly.

Spencer tried his best to keep his face neutral and to not let any noises escape, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you. But it was hard when your hand always felt so much better wrapped around his cock than his own. He glanced around at the busy bar, grateful that everyone was so caught up in their own thing to notice he had your hand in his pants. “This is so risky,” he said shakily, swallowing as he looked at you.

You hummed in acknowledgment, nodding your head. You were close to him but to the people around it would look as though you were just flirting with one another. Underneath the table, however, was a completely different story. “And yet, you love it,” You giggled, moving your pace a bit faster as your thumb swiped Spencer’s tip.

Spencer gasped as he tried not to buck his hips into your hand. He bit his lip, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he opened them again. “You’re such a menace,” He rasped out, trying to appear as though he had his composure.

“I know,” You beamed, still moving your hand underneath the table. You leaned in to whisper into Spencer’s ear. “Just imagine what you can do to me tonight,” You whispered. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to my body.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, looking at you with a heated expression. It didn’t take long until he felt himself getting close, the way your hand was moving and your thumb swiping the tip, the thrill of the fact that this was happening in public, and the alcohol messing with his breath certainly added to the feeling. And you could tell Spencer was close with the way his cock stiffened in your hand.

“Atta boy,” You whispered into his ear. “You like this so much,” You cooed, keeping up the appearance that this was nothing more than a flirtatious interaction.

And that was all it took before Spencer was biting his lip so hard that he swore he drew blood as he came in his briefs, coating your hand and the fabric with his cum. You stroked him through his orgasm before removing your hand. You grabbed a napkin off of the table and wiped your hand, pulling away from Spencer in the process.

“Well that was certainly fun,” You exclaimed before taking another sip of your drink.

Spencer looked at you with a dazed expression for a few seconds before clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. “I suppose,” He said hoarsely before reaching for his own drink and sipping it.

The last time Spencer had gotten a handjob in public was when he met up with Ethan after school one day and they gave each other handjobs behind the bleachers at the football field. It was like his only sexual experience for the longest time.

Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes

Tingle running through my bones

The boys and the girls are in

I mess around with them

And I'm okay with it

You and Spencer had two more drinks before he whispered into your ear. “Let’s get out of here,” his breath hot against the shell of your ear. You were both thoroughly buzzed, making the situation even hotter.

You nodded your head, giggling at Spencer as your cheeks were warm from the heat of the alcohol. He was the same way, a smirk lying on his lips as he looked at you with reddened cheeks. He had taken off his sweater, holding it in his arms. Without bothering to say goodnight to the rest of the team, you and Spencer left the bar, stumbling as you guys were laughing and hanging onto one another. Nothing was particularly funny but you were both intoxicated which was a rarity for the two of you and of course, you were going to relish it.

You and Spencer managed to call down a cab, getting into the back of it as Spencer told the driver the address. The two of you were sitting next to one another in the back of the cab pretty close, whispering and giggling. Spencer draped the sweater over your lap, a seemingly innocent gesture if it weren’t for what he whispered into your ear. “You know, two can play at this game,” He whispered.

“What game?” You whispered back, glancing at the taxi driver, who was paying no mind to you, before looking back at Spencer.

He simply raised his eyebrows at you, that familiar smirk on his lips that he’s held for the past hour or so. “You think you can just do what you did to me in the bar without any repercussions, sweetheart?” He asked as he put his hand underneath the sweater on your lap, his fingers moved underneath your skirt to rest on your thigh.

Your eyes widened with realization as his hands touched your skin. You couldn’t deny your arousal at the idea, knowing that when you mess with Spencer, he will mess with you back. The only thing separating you and the taxi driver was a partition between the seats that was opened just a crack. “H-here?” You stuttered quietly, suddenly losing the confidence that you had earlier in the night.

Spencer nodded his head, looking at you with a teasing but also heated expression. His fingers inched up your thigh, causing you to instinctively open your legs as you looked at Spencer. Your lips were parted and your cheeks flushed from the heat. You knew you guys shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have even given Spencer a handjob in the middle of a bar. Perhaps it was the alcohol, the buzz making your brain fuzzy. Or perhaps it was just because of Spencer. You two always drove one another crazy.

Who cared about logic and reason when the sex was always so intense and amazing?

The two of you were quiet, not wanting to alert the taxi driver as Spencer kept your legs covered with his sweater. He moved his fingers to your pussy, feeling how wet you were through your underwear, making you bite your lip. He simply leaned in to kiss your cheek, whispering in your ear. “You’re practically soaking,” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You nodded your head, not trusting yourself to whisper back. Spencer kept himself close to you, inching his fingers to move the fabric of your panties to the side. He used his pointer finger to touch your slit, spreading around the wetness. The feeling caused you to audibly gasp, making your eyes widen.

The taxi driver heard the gasp and looked at the two of you through the rearview mirror. “Is everything alright?” He asked, voice gruff.

Spencer spoke for the two of you, coming up with a lie that could satisfy the driver. “She had too much to drink so she’s feeling a bit queasy,” He said smoothly.

“Please don’t throw up in my cab,” The driver responded before looking back at the road.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Spencer reassured before looking back at you. His finger dipped between your folds and into your hole with much ease, causing you to bite your lip even harder. You tried not to make any other noises, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. Spencer watched the way you reacted, the way your body tensed at his touch. He slowly moved his finger in and out of you, trying not to go too fast as he didn’t want the sound of your slick to alert the taxi driver.

You were trying your hardest not to make any noise. It was always hard though. Spencer’s fingers were so long and always knew how to hit the right places even if he wasn’t trying. He knew how to finger you into a whining mess and with your intoxicated brain, it was even harder to control yourself.

Spencer added a second finger, keeping that slow but pleasurable rhythm. You were indeed soaking as Spencer had mentioned earlier. Your breathing was shaky as you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s wrist to hold onto something. You moved yourself a bit to rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder. The sudden curl of Spencer’s fingers, hitting your g-spot dead on, made you let out the tiniest of whimpers, muffled by his shirt, luckily enough.

And just as you felt that heat building inside of you, the taxi came to a stop right outside Spencer’s building, causing Spencer to pull away from you. “Thank you,” he said to the driver, grabbing a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket with his clean hand and handing it to the man before you both exited the car.

And as the taxi driver scurried off, Spencer looked around and then at you, that same smirk from earlier on his lips. “I didn’t get to see you fall apart, how sad,” he said with a mock pout on his lips. He brought the fingers still coated with your juices to your lips, an unspoken demand for you to suck.

You, being the wonderful person you were, obeyed without any hesitation, wrapping your lips around the digits and lapping your tongue as you tasted yourself. You looked at Spencer with doe eyes, appearing to be all innocent when you were anything but.

I’m here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Rest it on my fingertips

And up to your mouth, I’m feelin it out

I’m feelin it now

You felt like a whore, standing in the middle of the street with Spencer’s fingers in your mouth. Part of you was grateful that it was an ungodly hour and most normal people were asleep, meaning no one was in the street. Spencer watched as you sucked on his fingers. You were truly a sight to behold.

“Naughty girl,” he murmured, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek softly. To say he was addicted to you would be an understatement. Since that first day, the two of you slept together, he was hooked. Hell, he was hooked even before then. The countless nights he spent jerking himself off as he thought about fucking you would be embarrassing if you were to ever find out.

And now that Spencer has had you? He’s never letting go.

The two of you stumbled into the apartment building, holding onto one another. On the elevator, after pressing the buttons, Spencer began attacking your lips with his, kissing you so messily and hungrily, with both hands on your cheeks. It was the first kiss of the night, one that held all the pent-up emotions the two of you had been feeling. You kissed Spencer with the same veracity, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. Spencer gently nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to part them as he used his tongue to explore your mouth.

The two of you moved in sync, making out with one another. You could taste the alcohol that coated Spencer’s mouth just as he could taste it on you as well, the tastes blending. Spencer’s hands left your cheeks, moving down to your hips to pull you closer to him. You could feel his bulge pressing into you, causing you to clench your thighs. You two were lost in one another, dizzy from the alcohol and the endorphins being released.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it

We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh

La-la-da-da, da

We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh

La-la-da-da, da

The elevator dinging brought you both back to reality as Spencer pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. The look in his eyes showed need and want, your expression mirroring his as you looked back at him. Smiles crept onto your faces as you looked at one another. And when the elevator doors opened, Spencer simply grabbed your hand, the two of you stumbling and giggling as you made your way to his apartment down the hall.

Upon reaching his apartment door, Spence let go of your hand to grab his keys from his pocket, fumbling around with them until he grabbed the right one and put it into the keyhole. He opened the door, allowing you to step in first and Spencer followed suit. He closed the door behind himself, placing his keys in the bowl next to his door.

You placed your bag down along with the sweater of Spencer’s that you were still holding before turning towards him. And without giving him any chance to make the first move, you kissed him roughly, wanting to just consume him and be consumed by him. Spencer laughed against your lips, slightly taken aback by your actions but it certainly wasn’t unwelcomed. He kissed you just as roughly, his hands going to your hips once more.

Spencer took control of the kiss, his lips dominating yours as he gained control. As the two of you moved in sync, Spencer began gently pushing you around the apartment. However, he underestimated his coordination when he accidentally made you bump into his bookshelf, causing a few books to fall and for you to pull away. “Whoops,” you shrugged before kissing Spencer again.

The walk to the bedroom was an adventurous one, to say the least. The two of you had bumped into the table, the couch, and a vase fell onto the floor that Spencer will have to worry about in his hungover state in the morning. And when you eventually got into the bedroom, well, Spencer was more a bit grateful as he knew nothing would be in the way from the door to the bed.

As soon as you entered the bedroom, Spencer moved his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling away from the kiss to take it off of you, throwing the material somewhere in the room. Underneath your shirt, you were wearing a sage green lace bra that Spencer adored on you so much. “You’re so beautiful,” Spencer spoke huskily, licking his lips. “You know how much I adore this on you.”

“I figured I’d likely end up at yours tonight somehow,” You smiled smugly at Spencer’s reaction.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment before reaching to the buttons of his shirt and unbuttoning them. He tosses the shirt somewhere around the room before moving his attention back to you. He leaned in to kiss your jawline, making his way down your neck as his fingers messed with the zipper of your skirt. He fumbled with the zipper for a moment as he licked your pulse point, nipping at it slightly, and causing you to gasp. He undid the zipper, allowing the skirt to fall to the floor.

You tilted your head to the side, giving Spencer more access to your neck as he kissed, nipped, and sucked, leaving marks along your skin. Your breathing was uneven with how turned on you were. You reached down to Spencer’s pants, palming his cock through the material and causing him to groan against your skin. He pulled away from your neck, grabbing your hand. “None of that,” he gently reprimanded. “Go sit on the bed for me.”

You frowned for just a moment but obliged, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress. Spencer followed you, immediately dropping to his knees in front of you and that’s how you knew you were in for an exquisite treat. Although, this was a treat that you indulged in very, very frequently.

Spencer didn’t speak as his fingers moved to the waistband of your panties, pulling them off of you and putting them into his pant pocket. You quirked an eyebrow at Spencer who, in return, gave you a cheeky grin. He placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs for you to show your glistening cunt. His mouth instantly watered at the sight in front of him. “Fuck, you’re so incredibly wet,” He groaned, licking his lips with anticipation.

“Been wet all night,” You breathed out, watching Spencer with a heated expression in your eyes. “Need it so bad, Spence.”

“I know, baby, you’re going to get it, don’t worry,” was all Spencer said before he dived right in, licking a stripe against your cunt.

You moaned, lying your back on the mattress as Spencer worked his magic against your cunt. His tongue began running laps, taking in all of your juices. When you and Spencer first began this sort of friends with benefits situation, you didn’t know just how much Spencer loved eating your cunt. You figured he did it simply to make you feel good. But then, afterwards, when you saw that blissful and dazed look in his eyes, you knew he loved it just as much as you did, thrived on it even. If Spencer could spend the rest of his life between your thighs, you were sure he would die a happy man.

Spencer moved his arms to wrap around your thighs, pulling your cunt closer to his face. He began to practically make out with it, his lips playing with your clit and sucking on it. When Spencer ate pussy, he ATE pussy. The usual calm and collected man would eat you out like he had never had a proper meal in his life, making sure to bask in your juices. He was messy with it in the best possible way.

You reached your hand to intertwine your fingers into his brown curls, tugging at his hair as you moaned loudly. Your head was thrown back in pleasure, your other hand going to your chest and massaging the flesh. “Feels so good,” you whined.

Spencer moaned, sending vibrations against your pussy and causing you to jolt from the pleasure. His tongue dipped into your hole as his nose rubbed against your clit. He shook his head, burying it deeper into your cunt. You felt that familiar heat building inside of you, the one you had begun to feel earlier in the taxi but it had been ripped away from you so quickly. This time, however, it wasn’t going to be ripped away from you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned, moving your hips against Spencer’s face. “So close, please don’t stop!”

And he didn’t. Spencer continued to eat you out, slurping, sucking, licking your cunt. Part of him wished he was underneath you, letting you use his face until you were satisfied, covering him in your juices. But this was great too as he got to control just how much of your pussy he got to breathe in. Spencer sucked your clit, sending you over the edge as you arched your back and clamped your thighs shut, squeezing Spencer’s face in the process as you moaned his name in that sexy way that never failed to make his cock throb. God, he needed to fuck you.

When you relaxed, breathing heavily as you opened your eyes to look at Spencer, he pulled away, licking his lips in the process. His face was absolutely glistening with your juices and his eyes were blown out. He was the embodiment of pussy drunk.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted

Spencer stood up, wiping his chin with his hand before moving to unzip his pants. His movements were rushed as he fumbled around to get them off. “Need you so bad,” he said, kicking his pants to the side before taking his cum-stained briefs off. His cock sprung out of the briefs, making him let out a small groan of relief. It was so red, angry from the lack of attention. Which is funny because he literally came just a few hours ago.

You looked at Spencer, biting your lip as you looked at his cock. Eight inches and not too girthy but he knew exactly how to use it. He always made you feel so good with his cock. Your pussy throbbed at the thought, ready to get railed by Spencer. It’s all you’ve been wanting the past few days.

You didn’t say anything as Spencer grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him. He rested your legs on his shoulders before grabbing his cock, guiding it to your entrance. He didn’t bother to tease himself like he usually did by rubbing his cock up and down your cunt. The two of you were still woozy from the alcohol, that and the hormones, it was going to be quite a ride.

Spencer looked down at you, taking in your beauty as you looked up at him. It was a moment of softness between the two of you as you just gazed at one another. A tenderness that was rare. And just as quick as it had come, it was just as quickly removed as Spencer slammed his cock inside of you without warning, causing you to let out a loud gasp. He didn’t stop until he was fully in, only then did he allow you time to adjust.

It took you a few minutes to adjust to Spencer. He wasn’t always rough with you but you knew tonight that you both needed it. And after the pain subsided, you began squirming, unable to help yourself. You were needy and just wanted Spencer to fuck you.

“Why are you already squirming?” Spencer asked as he raised an eyebrow at you with a smirk on his lips. “Haven’t even started,” he said as he held onto your legs.

You let out a small whine. “Want you to move,” you said, a small pout gracing your lips.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgement. He didn’t give you a chance to say anything else when he pulled his hips back and then slammed back into you, pressing his cock deep inside of you.

You let out a choked moan, instantly gripping the sheets below you. Spencer moved his hips like that a few more times, his pace tantalizingly slow, before gradually picking up the pace. “S-so good,” you whimpered.

Spencer was never one to shy away from making noises. He moaned as his cock moved inside of you, feeling your walls around him. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned as he slammed his hips into you.

The sounds that escaped you sounded pornographic as Spencer moved inside of you. His cock was hitting your g-spot dead on. His thrusts were hard and rhythmic, exactly how you loved it. Spencer moved your legs, bending them towards your chest and holding them there as he thrusted into you more deeply. The change of angle makes your moans more high-pitched.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin as Spencer’s bed creaked from the roughness of his thrusts. The slick of your cunt was also heard as Spencer’s cock drilled into you. He began to pick up the pace. “You feel so good, baby, oh my god,” Spencer moaned, looking down at you.

You were truly a sight to behold. Your tits bounced with every thrust, your hair sprawled out on the mattress, your face was contorted with pleasure. Your whines and moans were truly like music to his ears. Spencer knew he wouldn’t last long at all, especially with the way your cunt was gripping his cock. He reached down, using his fingers to rub your clit.

“I-oh fuck!” You whimpered, throwing your head back in pleasure. “Spencer!”

“That’s it, princess,” Spencer let out a whine of own, relishing in the pleasure. “Gonna cum for me?”

You nodded your head pathetically as you looked up at the handsome genius. His curls were sticking to his forehead as he pounded into you. The feeling of his cock inside of you and fingers rubbing your clit was enough to have you feeling close again. “So close, Spence,” you moaned.

“Me too, baby, me too.” Spencer breathed out.

With a few more thrusts and rubs of your clit, you were moaning Spencer’s name so loudly as your back arched and head was thrown back, your cunt clamping around Spencer’s cock. That was all it took for Spencer to bury himself deep inside of you, cumming with a loud moan as he filled you with his seed.

And when you both were finished, Spencer pulled out before lying down on the bed next to you and taking you into his arms. You were both dazed and dizzy from all the different feelings. You both were also breathing heavily, coming down from the intense sensations. You snuggled into Spencer, unable to help the tiny giggle that escaped your lips which Spencer also returned.

When Spencer awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache, he was ready to just get up and take a bunch of acetaminophen to make it go away. But the feeling of having you in his arms made the thought dissipate when he could just spend the day sleeping next to you instead. Because you were the only medicine he really needed.

If you go out tonight, I’m going out tonight ‘cause I know you’re persuasive

[callikari]

WHiTE FERRARi — lee heeseung .𖥔 ݁ ˖

SYNOPSIS — "i'm sure we're taller in another dimension, you say we're small and not worth the mention"

PAIRING — bf! lee heeseung x gf!fem reader

GENRE(S) — angst, heartbreak, nostalgia, romance (with a gut wrenching twist) fluff in one scene if u squint ...

WARNING(S) — emotional distress, angst, unresolved feelings, unspoken love, unrequited love, grief, nostalgia, sad/bittersweet ending, emotional PAIN,

WORDCOUNT — 1.7k

the hum of the engine filled the car, but the quiet between you and heeseung was deafening. he drove with the same rhythm as always, but it wasn’t the same. not anymore. the road stretched out before you both, a reminder of how far you’d come—and how far you had left to go, with or without him.

you glanced at him briefly. his face was stiff, like he was holding onto something, or maybe like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. maybe you were too.

“do you ever think about what we used to be?” you asked softly.

heeseung didn’t respond immediately. his eyes stayed fixed on the road, his hands gripping the wheel. but you knew the answer, and it cut deeper than you wanted it to.

“yeah,” he finally said, his voice quiet.

you took a deep breath. “me too.”

the silence that followed was heavier than before, and in that moment, everything you had avoided hit you full force.

a flash of a memory surfaced in your mind, sharp and clear, a time when you were both happy, when everything felt so simple.

—

it was late one summer evening, just after the sun had dipped behind the horizon. you and heeseung were sitting on the roof of his apartment building, the city lights below flickering like a thousand tiny stars. he had his arm around you, and you had your head resting against his shoulder, watching as the sky bled into darker shades of blue and purple.

“this is nice,” you murmured.

“yeah,” heeseung said, voice soft, content. he turned to you, his lips quirking up at the corners. “it’s just us.”

you looked up at him, your heart swelling with something warm and unexplainable. back then, you thought this was forever.

“just us,” you repeated, and everything felt like it was falling into place.

heeseung looked at you, his gaze gentle, but there was something else in his eyes—a depth you couldn’t quite read. something that felt fragile, like it could slip through your fingers if you weren’t careful.

“i never want to forget this,” he said quietly, his voice serious for the first time.

you smiled, brushing your thumb against his hand. “you won’t. i won’t let you.”

—

the memory faded just as quickly as it had come, leaving only the ache of its absence.

you blinked, the present crashing back into focus. the car, the night, the unspoken words between you and heeseung.

heeseung cleared his throat, his eyes flicking to you for a moment before quickly looking away. “i thought we’d be different,” he said. “i thought we’d find a way back.”

“i thought so too,” you whispered, staring out the window. you wished you could reach out, say something to ease the weight that had settled between you both. but it felt too late for that now.

"we were different back then,” heeseung continued, his voice raw. “i thought… i thought maybe if i let go, if i gave you space, you’d be okay. but i didn’t know how to fix it.”

you let the tears fall then, quietly, no sobs, just a steady stream of hurt you couldn’t hold back anymore. you thought you’d moved past this. thought you could exist in the same room with him without falling apart.

“why didn’t you come back?” you whispered, voice cracking.

heeseung didn’t answer right away. you could feel the hesitation in the way he gripped the wheel. the car slowed as he took a breath.

"i don’t know,” he said finally, voice barely audible. “i thought i lost you the second i let you go. and i couldn’t… i couldn’t fix it. not after everything that happened.”

you turned to look at him then, the tears clouding your vision, but his face was unreadable, like he was trying to hold everything together, trying not to break.

“i was waiting,” you said quietly, voice trembling. “i was waiting for you to come back. to fight for us.”

heeseung’s face twisted, a flash of pain flickering across it. “i know. and i’m sorry.”

but the words were hollow. empty. he wasn’t sorry enough. he hadn’t fought for you when it mattered.

you wiped away the tear that escaped down your cheek and let out a shaky breath. “i’m not the same person anymore, heeseung. i don’t know if i can go back to how we were.”

heeseung’s grip on the wheel tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might say something else, something to make this make sense. but he didn’t.

the rest of the drive passed in silence, and you both stayed locked in your own pain. the road stretched on ahead, but you both knew there was no going back.

AUTHORS NOTE — what came out after listening to white ferrari for the first time in like 10 months.. also lowkey thinking of doing something inspired from that one scene in the notebook where allie was reading the letter in the car !!! idk lmk what u guys think 😛😛

© callikari -- all rights reserved

[bambiiezs]

18+ ahead

Currently thinking about how Nagumo would be a very teasing dom, I mean look how he jokes constantly and lies. Tbh he might be a toxic ex too if I'm being honest. But not like, evil or anything. He just only wants you to be with him. He's very obsessed with you. I mean who would ever leave him, he's tall, fine asf, tatted like a chipotle bag. (I need him)

The only reason you’d ever consider leaving Nagumo would be his jealousy—his suffocating, possessive need to have you all to himself. He doesn’t just dislike you having guy friends; he forbids it. He’ll joke about it, flash that cocky grin, but the moment you actually test his patience? Oh, he’s reminding you exactly who you belong to.

And God forbid he finds out you’ve been with someone else.

The night had been perfect. A nice dinner, laughter, the thrill of something new. But the moment you step into your apartment and flick on the lights, that perfection shatters.

He’s already there.

Nagumo sits lazily on your couch, legs spread like he owns the place—like he owns you. His sharp eyes flicker over your body, taking in every inch of you in that dress you thought you’d worn for someone else. But the way he looks at you now, like a predator cornering his prey, makes your stomach tighten.

Your heart stutters, but you force yourself to stand tall. “The fuck are you doing here, Yoichi? I told you to stay away from me.”

He doesn’t respond—not with words, at least. Instead, he rises slowly, his movements deliberate, controlled. The sound of his boots against your floor echoes in the silence as he makes his way to your kitchen. He reaches into the cabinet like he’s done it a hundred times before, pulling out your favorite bottle of red wine. Without asking, he pours himself a glass, taking a slow sip. His eyes never leave you.

Then, he chuckles. A low, amused sound that sends a shiver up your spine. He leans back against the counter, swirling the wine in his glass.

“Your words are so cruel, love. Have you already forgotten me? Lost all those feelings so easily?” He tilts his head, pouting—mocking.

He’s not sad. Not even close.

He’s entertained. Amused by your defiance. Because in his mind, this isn’t over. You were his, and he doesn’t let go that easily.

"Why are you here?” you demand, voice laced with frustration.

He takes a step closer, then stops—his sharp eyes studying you with quiet intensity. Your gaze falters, avoiding his, but he doesn’t let you escape. A single finger hooks beneath your chin, tilting your face upward until your eyes meet his.

“Look at me with those pretty eyes, will you?” His voice is low, almost coaxing. But there’s something darker lurking beneath. “Tell me, why are you trying to leave me? Why are you trying to give away what’s mine?”

Before you can protest, your back meets the cold surface of the wall. His knee slots between your legs, spreading them just enough to steal the breath from your lips. You let out a soft whimper, hands pressing against his chest in a feeble attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. He never does.

And that’s how you ended up here—face buried in your pillows, muffling your moans as Nagumo fucks you from behind, his name tumbling from your lips like a desperate prayer. His thrusts are brutal, relentless—every roll of his hips aimed to break you apart, his thick tip slamming into that spot that makes your vision blur. He’s ruthless. He always is.

You’re completely at his mercy—just how you like it.

He leans in, breath hot against your ear. “You like that, mama? Like when I fuck you like this?” His voice drips with smug satisfaction. “Of course you do. You’re dripping, creaming all over me.”

His fingers tighten around your hips, pulling you back to meet each deep, punishing thrust.

“Tell me,” he growls, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. “Who makes you feel this good? Who always fucks you just right?”

Your voice trembles, barely above a gasp.

“Y-Yoichi…!”

"That's right baby, Nagumo yoichi.. and don't you fucking forget."

[sunsbaby]

❝ de. i think i'm stuck... ❞

❝ sam will you help me! gosh... ❞

⋆ dean w. & sam w. x photographer .ᐟ reader

ever since you began hunting with the boys, their life went in a new direction. they found themselves appreciating the little things a bit more—such as taking photos, just on their phones and not a huge camera. sam had taken more of an interest than dean, following you around and secretly 'learning' from you. dean, however, he didn't care for it, but somehow he always took the best photos. albeit some are rather embarrassing, like you with pie all over your face, but they were fond memories and a way for him to relive the moment again.

"biride, hurry up. we don't have all day." dean groaned, his head falling back as he dramatically rolled his eyes.

sam stood on the side-lines, too busy in whatever lore he was reading to focus on the important matter at hand—important in your words. there was a beautiful bird high up in a tree, one that you had to climb in order to get close enough; that's how you ended up perched on a branch, camera held tightly in your grasp as you shot a look down towards dean.

"de, do not distract me or so help me god i will break this camera on your head!" you threatened in a hushed whisper as to not scare away the creature in front of you. "and you will buy me a new one."

"yea right, birdie. you won't do anything, and i'm not buying you anything." dean teased, sam let out a sigh—he gave dean 'the look.'

somehow sam thought this was the perfect moment to take a picture of, their birdie trying to take a photo of a bird. he let out a chuckle as his finger pressed the button on his phone, a snapping sound echoed through the trees when you both clicked a button at the same time. the bird flew away, but you were successful. celebrating your victory with a little dance—to which dean face-palmed at.

when you attempted to get down, you realized something was off. you quite literally could not climb down. your lips pursed and you tried to come up with a plan inside your head—which was filled with song lyrics and what else you could take a picture of. not helpful, so you resorted to your only other option. sam and dean!

"de. i think i'm stuck..." your voice was almost quiet, which dean took as an opening to tease you.

"huh? what was that birdie? i can't hear your chirping from down here." he said, that dumb grin etched onto his face—a face you couldn't wait to smack.

"sam, will you help me!" you almost yelled as a pout formed on your glossy lips—no dry lips around here! "gosh..."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

after that stressful part of the day, you settled into the backseat of baby while the boys sat in the front. people might think that you're being forced to sit in the back—no, it's actually the opposite. who wants to sit between two men, especially ones who spread their legs like they're the only ones sitting there. at least in the back you can lay down, and not think about the sexual activities that have gone down. it makes for a great way to take pictures of them with out their knowledge.

"can we stop at a gas station, i want snacks." you asked as you poked your head into the front, turning up the music in the process.

"i could go for some too." sam joked, his eyes focusing in on yours.

a soft smile played at his lips—he couldn't imagine life without you. you'd just walst into it and changed them for the better. no matter how far you went, your wings always brought you back.

"i guess, birdie..." dean grumbled, he knew good and well that he couldn't say no to you. neither could sam. "shut up, bitch." dean joked with sam, a genuine smile forming on deans stubbled face.

"jerk."

the sun faded in the background as you sang out into the sky, the wind tangling in your hair. another day spent with your boys and memories made. that was what a good day is to you.

sunny yaps! HIII EVERYONEE! 👯‍♀️ photographer!readers first little story/drabble! i hope you guys like her and pls share your thoughts and opinions! I LOVE HEARING THEM!

special tags! @bluemerakis @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @sunsettsam @h8aaz @deansbeer

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[diodellet]

cw: churned out another hyperspecific scenario instead of putting my indulgent makeout fantasies onto paper, oopsie poopsie😔sorry for the angst mixed with your silliness, it will happen again. lightly beta’d (thanks @jessamine-rose). established relationship shenanigans++some headcanoning on jamil's home life when he was a kid.

jamil viper is not your go-to person for home movie dates. whatever you put on, he's out like a light by the thirty minute mark.

unless he's with kalim. then he can slog through a feature-length film with his eyes closed. the guy's constant chattering could surprisingly be processed through the haze of jamil's light nap.

of course, you're quick to notice this little quirk of his. it's routine that you offer your lap as a headrest instead of your shoulder.

"i-if you're comfortable with doing that, that is." you hastily add, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

and like clockwork, he can't resist teasing you. "how could i refuse?"

it takes a bit of shifting around, you scooting over to make space for his legs, then adjusting the blankets while also making sure that he has a clear view of the tv screen - even if he won't need it.

(there's something…familiar about this. the dialogue and music all blurring together into a comfortable buzz, the different colors of light bathing his skin with their glow.

watching tv was a sort of solemn family activity. his parents, even in the comfort of their home, even with over-the-top soap operas playing, were cold and dignified viewers. nonetheless, they allowed him and najma to cuddle against them. they made sure that their two children were thoroughly blanketed in warmth and comfort, that neither of them would end up sore from the four of them being all crammed together onto the little sofa.

and then he got too big to be carried back to bed. and then he became kalim's attendant full time, moved out of their place in the servants' quarters to room with kalim. and then all that remained was the pavlovian urge to succumb to sleep when faced with a tv and a movie.)

by the time he stirs, the end credits have finished rolling.

jamil blinks up at you, his limbs heavy with sleep. "is it over?"

"mhm. will you have to go now?" your touch is gentle as you brush aside the stray strands of hair from his forehead.

he thinks he should return to scarabia, but one hour of good rest with you was intoxicating.

was it wrong to squeeze out just a little more time together, if it so thoroughly rejuvenated his spirit?

"i can stay for a little longer," he reassures you, cupping your palm with his and pressing a kiss to the side of your thumb.

so the both of you linger in this moment of quiet affection, without the noise from the tv as a buffer. then you pipe up, "your eyes…"

"hm? what about them?"

"…oh, um, on second thought…maybe i shouldn't say it." your knuckle brushes against the curve of his cheek in a light bid to drop the subject. "it's a bit of a random thought."

"then just spit it out." jamil likes the fluster on you. likes pushing your buttons, likes how your eyes glittered with fondness in spite of it all.

"did you know that your eyes…aren't closed the entire way when you sleep?"

he should have realized that there's a reason why ignorance is bliss. that curiosity killed the cat. that one should let sleeping dogs lie and all those similar sayings and so on.

"oh." jamil wants to scream.

what happens instead is that he turns onto his other side and buries his face into the hem of your shirt. the warmth of your stomach permeating through the fabric like ice against his burning face.

"i'm sorry! it's kinda cute, i think."

"shut up," he manages to grit out through the waves of cringe.

he hears you laugh as you pat his shoulder in consolation.

the jamil writing taglist: @viperwhispered @twstgo @crystallizsch @mama-m1na

@sillystr1ngs @pzlqpibz @warriorpacifist

(lmk if you wanna join the taglist for jamil writing in the replies!)

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE MAKE THIS?

(Family) "JJK Men as Your Father – They Plan Your Birthday!"

I beg you, please! ☹️ I've never seen any SMAU or fanfic like this before. And I love your writing so, so, so much, girl! I'm seriously obsessed with you. I love you! Please don’t die!

JJK Men as Your Father – They Plan Your Birthday!

Synonsis - they planned your birthday! You as their daughters

Characters- gojo Satoru, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, choso kamo and geto suguru.

Gojo Satoru

Gojo does not believe in “small” celebrations. He rents out an entire amusement park for your birthday. Every ride is free. Every food stall is yours to raid. There’s a massive firework display spelling out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY PERFECT ANGEL” in the sky.

and if you think you can have a quiet moment to breathe, you’re wrong.

He hires a DJ, a magician, and somehow convinces the Tokyo governor to attend. The cake? It’s a 10-layer monstrosity, taller than you. You try to cut it, but Gojo swoops in, dramatically wiping a fake tear.

“My baby is growing up so fast! No, no, let Daddy do this.”

At some point, you find yourself on stage while Gojo forces the crowd (including Nanami, who is suffering) to sing happy birthday twice.

When you finally sit down, exhausted, Gojo leans in with a mischievous grin.

“So… wanna hear about your next birthday party?

Geto suguru

He wakes you up early, carrying a tray of breakfast in bed with a small flower tucked into the napkin. His gift? Something deeply personal maybe a handmade charm infused with his cursed energy for protection or a rare book he spent months searching for.

Your party is a relaxed gathering with close friends, warm string lights decorating the backyard. He cooks all your favorite foods by himself, occasionally shooing Gojo away when he tries to sneak a taste.

At some point, he sits beside you, ruffling your hair. “You know, no matter how old you get, you’ll always be my kid.”

It’s simple, warm, and perfect until Gojo crashes in with a stolen party popper and ruins the peace.

Nanami Kento

He plans everything weeks in advance, from the venue to the cake flavor. Everything runs on schedule. Your gifts are practical yet thoughtful a high-quality notebook if you like writing, a rare collectible if you’re into something specific.

He lets you do whatever you want for the day, as long as it’s reasonable. But then, Gojo somehow infiltrates the party, dragging you into absolute chaos. Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose.

“This is why I didn’t invite you.”

Still, at the end of the night, he pats your head. “Happy birthday. I hope you had a good day.”

And even if he complains, you know he enjoyed seeing you happy.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji doesn’t do traditional birthdays. Instead of a party, he takes you on the wildest trip ever. Go-kart racing? Done. Laser tag? Booked. Secret underground fight club where he bets on you?

…Wait, what?He buys you the most expensive, unnecessary gift maybe a custom-made weapon if you're into fighting, or a luxury-brand outfit if you like fashion.(He saved the money)

He smirks, ruffling your hair. “Gotta spoil my kid, yeah?”

At some point, he gets into a competitive drinking contest with shiu and starts yelling about how he’s the “coolest dad.” You spend half your party dragging him away before he fights someone.

Ryomen Sukuna

Your “party” is held in the middle of a cursed-infested temple. He sits on his throne, smirking as cursed spirits bring out a massive feast roasted meats, exotic fruits, golden goblets filled with who-knows-what.

At some point, he grins, sharp teeth flashing.

“Since it’s your birthday, I’ll let you choose: Do you want a gift… or a sacrifice?”

“…Dad, what?”

He ends up giving you some insanely powerful artifact that no normal person should have. And if anyone dares mess with you on your birthday? They're gone.

Choso kamo

Choso is the softest dad. He spends days making your favorite food from scratch. The decorations are handmade, the cake is slightly uneven but filled with love. He wakes you up with a soft hug.

“Happy birthday, my little one.”He lets you rest and does everything for you that day. You don’t lift a finger.

When you open his gift a framed photo of you and your siblings, beautifully decorated he watches you with the proudest smile.At the end of the night, he pulls you into a tight hug.

“I hope today was as wonderful as you are.”And honestly? It was.

[maskedcrawford]

Hidden Secrets

G Dragon x Reader

Summary: Steve, Ji-yong and another morning after. But this time words are spoken that can't be taken back.

Warnings: MORE Angst but this time it ends a little differently. I hope you guys enjoy! I'm having a blast writing this fic and so glad you guys are enjoying it. Please leave a like or a reblog if you enjoy and be sure to follow for updates on the story. Thank you for reading and for your support!

Chapter 2

Chapter 3- Beauty in the Mess

You listen to the phone ring, ring and ring some more. Why were you calling Steve exactly? One reason, you wanted to take your mind off Ji-yong and whatever her name is.

“Hello,” his tired but sober, for once, voice answers.

“H-hey,” you choke out.

“Y/n?” he asks as he sits up in bed, “What’s up?” he’s more alert now.

“If I text you the address, can you come over?” You had that feeling in the pit of your stomach that this wasn’t a good idea, but you were too hurt and frustrated to care.

“Uh, yeah just let me know where you are.”

“Ok, and bring condoms.” You say and hang up on him. Your stomach is in knots but you don’t care. You want something Ji-yong clearly isn’t going to give you and you aren’t exclusive. He said you could bring men home, so you’re going to.

You walk out of your room again and you stop and listen for a moment, there’s silence in his room and you figure he’s asleep.

“Safe till morning,” you think as you walk to the living room and watch outside the window. No need in him knocking and possibly waking up Ji. Once he gets there you let him in and put your finger to your lips making the shh motion. You lead him to your room wearing nothing but a long t shirt and your underwear.

“I uh, brough these,” he says showing you the box of condoms and you take the box and throw it aside to be used later.

“What’s going on?” his face is full of confusion and while you wish it was Ji-yong you were about to kiss, its not. But hey, he isn’t the only one who can use his imagination. You bring Steve’s neck down to your level as you capture his lips in a kiss filled with nothing but lust.

“Y/n,” he tries to say against your lips. You pull back and slip the t shirt off. You place his hands on you, knowing how to work him like a fiddle.

“Don’t talk, just make me feel good,” you say as you kiss him again. Did he make you feel good, eh not exactly. Kind of. Not the way Ji-yong did. His touch wasn’t heaven, it wasn’t electric or passionate, it was needy, rushed and selfish. He didn’t elicit the same noises or desires in you; being with Ji-yong really had spoiled you. But you honestly didn’t care as long as you got off.

“Does that feel good baby.”

“Don’t talk,” you said as you kissed him again, trying to think of Ji instead of him.

“Fuck.” You moan out.

“I thought you said we have to be quiet.”

“What did I say about talking?” you swat his face. Did you exaggerate a few noises? Of course, I mean, what good would this be if Ji-yong didn’t know anything.

Once the activity was done, you both lay there in bed heaving.

“Fuck I missed you,” he breathes as he tries to cuddle you. You get up before he can fully embrace you and quietly pick up your shirt and underwear putting it back on. You honestly needed a shower after that.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Want some company,” his voice is suggestive.

“No, Steve,” your voice is filled with annoyance and you twist your face in disgust.

You turn on the hot water once you get in the bathroom, the hottest you can stand, and slip in feeling it hit and sting your skin. Tears unintentionally stream down your cheeks. You hadn’t processed the stress any of this had put you under until this moment.

“What is wrong with me,” you sobbed quietly. 9 months ago, your life was so different. Your boyfriend was decent and working, Ji-yong was just your best friend and life was smooth. Now, your relationship with your best friend is more complicated than ever and your deadbeat ex-boyfriend was waiting in your bed, after he slept with another girl! You huff as you scrub your body, trying to make it feel clean after what you had just done. You notice a spot that looks like it wants to bleed and you stop before too much damage is done.

You walk back into your bedroom after your shower and see Steve is all ready asleep. Aftercare was never his thing. He liked to fuck and then sleep. In that particular order. You roll your eyes as you get in bed, thinking once again about how Ji-yong would be treating you.

He’d clean you up first and foremost. Ask if you were ok and then he’d hold you like if he didn’t, you’d fall apart; like he was some kind of glue for you. He’d tell you how good you did, how beautiful you are, and how special he thinks you are too. He didn’t treat it as a casual thing despite the arrangement, he treated it like you were his lady, because in those moments you were.

Before you know it, morning comes and you hear the sound of shouting and pots and pans clanging together. Your eyes widen as everything rushes back to memory. You look over in a futile effort to see if Steve is with you still. Of course not.

With your emotions clear, last night’s decisions are weighting heavy on you. You crawl out of bed and sigh before opening the door.

“Get the fuck out!” you hear Ji’s voice filled with rage.

“I swear to God if you fucking touched her,” you couldn’t see him in the hallway but you knew his face was red. He’d never sounded so angry.

“Look man she called me,” Steve says. Steve was good at covering his own ass, even if it was true.

“So you fucking came? Did she not make it clear she was done with you sorry ass?” you couldn’t help but revel in the fact that he was defending you, despite the tiff, it was really sexy.

“Well, considering the fact that moaned because of me last night, no,” you could hear the smirk in Steve’s voice and you heard a glass break.

“Fucking shit, man.” You hear Steve say and you walk around the corner. Your vison is filled with a trashed kitchen and Ji-yong has a pot in one hand and a knife in the other. Steve is hunched over, more cuts and bruises, you particularly notice one to his eye. That must’ve happened before you woke up.

“What the actual fuck, y/n?” Ji-yong asks angrily, looking at you.

“I,” your voice is hoarse.

“You want me to, in the middle of making breakfast this morning, hear my shower turn on and see your naked shrimp dick boyfriend in it when I go to see if you’re up?” You catch a glimpse of his hand and see that it’s bloody, but it’s not cut. It’s Steve’s blood.

“I’m just,” Steve points to the door and he limps past you. You rub the back of your neck with your eyes closed. Fuck. He turns his attention to you and you can see the absolute rage on his face. He was hurt, don’t get it twisted, but he was also pissed someone touched what was his, even if he’d been the one to start it.

“I mean, really? What the hell were you thinking? He was drunk the last time you seen him and he tried,” he trails off closing his eyes and he slams the pot and knife down as he remembers the sight of you in danger. It makes his blood boil.

“I,”

“Actually, I don’t fucking care,” he puts his hand up. You were now to the point of being the one upset.

“Hold on,” you shout as he walks past you still in his robe.

“First of all, you weren’t even supposed to be here today. You told me you were recording today.”

“Yeah, I canceled. Didn’t realize I had to run every little plan by you,” he turns to you his eyes full of bitterness.

“Second,” you put up two fingers, “You don’t get to be mad at me with the way I chose to proceed after the bull shit you pulled last night. Not mention, third,” you hold up another finger, “You said we weren’t exclusive and you,” you point your finger to his chest, “brought someone else home first. So excuse me for thinking I could do the same thing.” You cross your arms and put your weight on your hip.

Ji-yong’s jaw clenches and unclenches multiple times

“I didn’t bring home someone who treated me like shit and broke my heart,” he seethes.

“No, you’re right,” you say too calm, “I live with a guy who can that just fine.”

 He goes silent for a moment, the air between, you would swear you could suffocate in the silence.

“Was he better than me?” you’re caught off guard with his question. His voice is so low and calm it almost frightened you.

“Was she better than me?” you retort. You turn to grab a waffle off the plate in the kitchen when you hear him mumble it.

“No.”

You freeze, with a piece of waffle in your mouth, you turn a look at him, still standing there in his robe and bed head. He looked almost like a little kid as he looked at the ground. You walk over to him.

“What,” you ask as you swallow the waffle bite. He sighs and rubs his hands together before admitting this small truth to you once again.

“No, jagiya, she wasn’t better than you,” he’s looking deep into your eyes. Your face softens slightly.

“Really?” He nods his head with pursed lips.

“So tell me, was he better than me?” his lips twitch slightly. You look at the ground and tell him the truth.

“No,” your voice comes out shy and quiet.

“Mm,” he hums for a minute before coming closer to you.

“Did you at least have a nice time,” his tone is slightly cocky and you want to tear away any pride you can of his.

“Yeah, I did,” you say short and snippy, “I think you should change your mind about the studio today. It’s probably best you aren’t around me.” You say matter of factly. You start walking back to your room. And that’s when his girl from last night comes trapsing out in nothing but a bra and panties. How the heck did she not freak out over the whole ordeal?

“Oh, sorry I was just uh, oh, there you are,” she smiles shyly as she walks by you and gives Ji-yong a good morning kiss. Well actually she practically sticks her tongue down her throat.

“So are we going to spend in the day in bed like we talked about? It’s getting lonely in there,” she giggles. Ji-yong glances your way with sorrowful look at your rage is once again activated. He really had the nerve to get mad at you and she was why he wasn’t going to record? To be with some girl you were sure he didn’t know the name of.

“But Ji-yongie you promised,” you stand there shamelessly listening.

“Not today, I have something I have to do,” his eyes flit to you, “ I’ll get you an uber home.” She pouts and your fists are balled at your side. You go to your room and slam the door.

Ji-yong knew he screwed up, bad, and he wasn’t willing to leave it like this. You two hadn’t fought like this, ever. You two never really did fight, unless it was playful, but that was before your feelings, and bodies, intertwined.

He gives the blonde, who he still can’t recall her name, a kiss on the cheek as he sends her off in his uber. You walk out of your room in your clothes for the day, ready to get to work on the painting you’ve been working on. You catch him staring at you from the entry hall by the front door.

You walk into the small studio and give it a moment. You can’t risk Ji-yong walking in on your artwork. You were painting a picture of you and him, only it was becoming more abstract, much like your relationship. It started off as two people, you and him essentially, but as emotions came up and then got buried and the chaos of the last 48 hours came about, the picture began to have splatters of paint, lines through the middle of it. He’s painted in red and orange, signifying passion and love, what you felt for him. You were painted in colors of blue and gray, signifying your bottled-up emotions and the heartbreak you’re beginning to feel is inevitable.

Ji-yong pads down the hallway, not sure of what to say, how to make it right or what would happen next, but he knew he cared about you too much to not try and talk to you about it. See he never really slept with that girl, she did some things, but he never touched her. He couldn’t, she wasn’t you. That’s why Steve hurt so bad, he knew you’d slept with him, and you did it because of what you thought he did with the girl he brought home. He gently opens the door and shuts it behind him. He see’s you standing in front of a gorgeous painting, staring at it.

“Wow,” you grab at your chest as you gasp. You don’t turn around, too anxious to move.

“It’s beautiful,” he says coming up behind you.

“You weren’t supposed to see it,” you move to put it away but he tugs you back, your back hitting his chest.

“Well, now I have,” he says quietly. He feels something wet his arm as it drapes around your midsection.

“Nae sarang,” he whispers lovingly in your ear. You grit your teeth for a moment.

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you say you turn to him, your tears being freely released. He shoots his hands up in mock surrender but you aren’t done.

“You really are a jackass, you know that? You really fucking are. I mean, you sit here and treat me like shit, leave me after last night and then go out and find some broad to fuck because I beg you for it?”

“I told you why what happened yesterday did.”

“Oh my God, Ji so I laughed. I laughed because I thought the idea was funny because of how fucked up our situation is!” Your voice echoes in the room. He nods his head slowly.

“And then you think you can just trapse in here, and act like I’m yours because you said she wasn’t a better fuck than me.” You move your hands wildly now out of anger. Maybe you should’ve been the one painted in red.

“Just go, get out so I can work,” you say with a sigh as you turn to grab your paint.

“What’s the red line for?” he asks curiosity getting the better of him.

“For the rift between us. It cuts us at our core because our relationship is fractured, Ji. Whether we want to believe that or not, it’s broken. And much like the paint on this canvas, it may be that way forever.” You explain with your back turned. There’s no way you could face him and say this. You don’t see the depression that twists on his face. The way his heart breaks to hear your words. Yeah he messed up, but he didn’t know he had hurt you this bad. This was supposed to be a casual thing for you.

“Y/n” he tries to come up to you, to hold you, to tell you that you can still fix it, but you shove him away from you.

“I think I’m going to need to move out.” You mumble.

“Listen, I know I screwed up, but,” he tries to reason with you, he regrets his choices from last night more than he ever thought he would. If he’d have known losing you is what it would cost him, he never would’ve done any of this. Yet he still can’t bring himself to be vulnerable with you, not completely.

“Ji-yong, get away from me,” you say through clenched teeth. He sighs and walks out.

You hear him slam the door to his room and you blast your music through the speakers and begin painting.

What you don’t see are the tears he lets flow. If he’d never of slept with you that night, if he would’ve kept control of himself you two wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Fuck!” you hear him yell over the music and despite your anger you can’t help but go check on him, you’re mad but you still love him. You stand outside his door and gently tap your knuckles against it.

“Ji,” you say gently. He doesn’t open the door. You turn the nob and to your surprise he’s laying on his bed. The one he laid in with her not 12 hours earlier. A picture of what they could’ve looked like tangled together enters your mind and you force it away. You don’t say anything, you just lay with him, putting your hand around his body, pressing him to you.

“Don’t leave, please,” his voice is hoarse, barely coming out above a whisper. He closes his eyes, silently begging you.

“Ji, this isn’t healthy for either one of us.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me and I’ll do it,” he turns over to face you and that’s when you see it. The brokenness he’d been hiding. The pain at the thought of you leaving, at the thought of having lost you.

“It’s not that I want you to do anything, I just don’t think we can handle this. But at the same time things can’t go back to way they were.” You absentmindedly place a hand on his cheek and he closes his eyes, reveling in your touch.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he scoots closer to you, too close. Your mouths are inches from each other, your foreheads are touching, and you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

“Ji, we,” the tension is making your head spin as you notice his not so subtle staring at your lips.

“Oh, damn it,” you say in defeat as you pull him to you and your lips collide in a beautiful eruption of fireworks. He pulls you to him, pulling you on top of him. You separate to assault his jawline and neck. His breaths are short and pant like, his head spins from the chaos of the last few days and your touch. How the two of you could ever truly recover he wasn’t sure.

 You open his robe and trail kisses down his bare chest, stopping to nip at his skin every now and again. As you trail kisses down his stomach you see her face, again, and you stop. You look at him and he can see the change in demeanor.

“What’s wrong,”

“I can’t stop picturing it.” You move off of him and back to the side.

“I didn’t really sleep with her,” he says shyly and you shoot your brows up and look at him.

“What?”

“I mean she did some stuff but I never actually touched her,” his face is slightly red. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or more pissed.

“So what the hell? You just wanted me to think you slept with her to piss me off? Make me jealous or something?”

“No, I,” he rubs his hands down his face. Once again, an awkward silence fills the room.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says after a minute of stillness.

“I don’t want to go, Ji, but I can’t keep getting my heart broken.”

“What do you mean? How is your heart getting broken if we’re just casual.”

“Because,” you freeze before anything is said you can’t take back.

“Because,” you start again, “Even if it’s casual, we’re just using each other here. That’s fucking painful.”

“Like you used Steve last night,” he quirks a brow.

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, “You did the same thing with, who was she?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Exactly, I can’t take being used by you.”

“By me?”

“Yeah, it hurts, it stings it makes me,” your chest is heaving harder now.

“I just can’t do it, Ji-yong. I thought I could. I really did.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says trying to pull you close.

“I don’t want to lose you, but I have to think of myself. Hell I’m the only one thinking of me, here.”

“Hold on, that’s not true. I was trying to wine and dine you, make you feel better about this whole thing.”

“You did it because you wanted sex, you wanted my body, Ji-yong. I know that all ready. Dinner isn’t required when you aren’t going to date someone.

“Are you saying that’s what you want? A date?” he ducks his head to peer into your eyes and you quickly glance away.

“I have a painting to finish,” you mumble and get up off the bed.

“Y/N,” he stops you from leaving. He pauses and takes a deep breath.

“Will you go out with me tonight?”

“Ji-yong, don’t do,”

“I’m serious. If a date is what you want, a date is what you’ll have. No sex, no strings, just a romantic evening. I’ll plan the whole thing.”

“Don’t do this to keep me from leaving,”

“Yeoja agi, I’d sell everything I own and give up my career to keep you here.”

“Do you even want to date me or is it just a casual thing?”

If you enjoyed and would like to support me, buy me a coffee

“Y/n,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m crazy about you.” You look at him stunned.

Tags: @loveesiren @natalicss @mashtatosworld @nerdydoll-com

[starlost-maniac]

Why Her? - Ch 7

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DNI

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, sexting, Minho is a tease

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem!reader

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

You're finally back at your apartment, Lee Know is picking you up in an hour. You open the video that he sent you a few hours ago since you weren't able to watch it at the studio.

The video is of him, starting off with him holding his phone as he strokes himself before he sets his phone on the sink so he can use both hands. As he strokes himself, he's letting out soft, quiet groans, your name and kitten slipping from his lips. He turns a bit in the video so you can see the length of his cock as he strokes himself closer to release.

"Fuck..kitten, you're so fucking tight.." he groans in the video. "I'm going to fuck you so hard..need to feel you around me.." he groans low as he cums into his hands after a few minutes, a few expletives slip through. He ended the video after washing his hands. You gently rub your face, trying to get your blush to go away. You and Lee Know have slept together a few more times since that first night, Lee Know still being careful as he didn't want to hurt you.

You walk towards your room, blush not going away, to pack an overnight bag. You get a text from Lee Know saying he's outside. You text back saying you'll be right down as you're still packing your overnight bag. As soon as you're ready, you head down to the car.

"You finally saw the video?" He teases when you get in. You whine softly and mumble something about him teasing you.

"I think you like the consequences when you whine, kitten." He teases again as he drives away from your apartment when you're settled. You just pout which Lee Know smiles at. He reaches over and holds your hand, intertwining your fingers.

It's a quick drive to the apartment he shares with Han. Parking and getting out, he goes to your door and opens it for you, taking your bag and putting it on his shoulder. You smile and thank him, holding his hand as he brings you upstairs and to the apartment. You've been here a few times with the others, so it's not new to you. Once the door is shut, he gently grabs your chin between his thumb and finger. He stares at you for a moment before slotting his lips to yours.

"I've wanted to do this all day." He mumbles against your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck. He pulls back before picking you up and bringing you to his room, kicking the door shut. He drops your bag and puts you on the bed. "Get naked for me kitten. I need you, now." He says as he starts to undress himself.

You quickly strip yourself, your clothes in a pile on the floor somewhere. He's back on you immediately, hands and lips somewhere on your body. He reaches down between your bodies, fingers sliding between your folds, feeling how wet you are for him. He grins and chuckles.

"My kitten is definitely a little wet, isn't she?" He slides a finger inside you and you moan softly. He kisses along your neck with open mouth kisses as he fingers you fast, inserting another finger, getting you ready for him. He takes his fingers out of you and moves himself between your legs. "I need you, Y/n..fuck do I need you.."

You start to wrap your legs around his waist but he stops you, holding your legs open as he pushes inside of you slowly. You gasp and moan at the stretch, head rolling back into the pillow.

"Still so tight for me..such a good kitten." He groans as he slides into you entirely. He holds your legs open as he bottoms out inside you. You can feel him twitching inside you as he sets your feet on his shoulders. He turns his head to kiss the soft skin of your ankle. You look up at him, eyes a little glassy. He gives you a moment before he starts to thrust into you slowly. You let soft moans slip through as your eyes close in pleasure.

He slowly trails his fingertips along your legs, making goosebumps spread across your skin. He leans forward, slowly starting to bend you in half, placing one hand on the bed to support himself as he fucks into you a little harder, watching your face as pleasure washes over you.

"Let me know if you want me to stop, ok kitten?" He thrusts into you a little faster, picking up his pace. You arch as much as you can, moaning louder. His free hand reaches around your thigh to rub your clit. You can feel the pressure in your belly as you're getting closer to release. He kisses you deeply as he grinds into you slow but hard, swallowing the moans you release. You hold onto his arm and the pillows as you arch again and cum hard, your walls clenching around him.

Lee Know groans as he fucks you through your high, still rubbing your clit. You faintly hear his door open and Han swear out before the door shuts. Lee Know lets out a shuddery laugh as he thrusts himself deep inside you as he cums, painting your walls white. He continues to pump his hips into you even after he finishes. He slows down and sits up, carefully unfolding you as he gently lowers your legs, not leaving you yet.

"How are you feeling, kitten?" He leans down to plant a kiss on your sweaty forehead.

"I'm ok." You smile softly, breathing hard. "Was that Han that walked in?" You look up at him, face flushed and pupils blown.

"Yeah," he laughs. "That was Han. I forgot to mention I was going to have you over, so he probably got a good view of us." Your face flushes a bit more and you groan softly. He kisses your forehead again and pumps his hips into you a little more, making you moan out. "Think you have enough in you for one more? I'm still hard."

You stare up at him, surprised. You laugh softly but nod. He ends up fucking you for another two rounds, making you extremely tired afterwards. He kisses you softly.

"I'll go get you some food and water, ok? Just stay right there." He pulls out of you and covers you with his blanket. He tosses on a pair of basketball shorts and a shirt, before padding out of his room, shutting the door behind him. He goes into the kitchen where Han was sitting.

"Hi, hyung. I'm sorry about walking in on you and Y/n." He scratches the back of his head.

"It's ok. I forgot to tell you she was going to be here." Lee Know says, opening the fridge. He grabs a water bottle and some food, quickly warming it in the microwave.

"So, when are you guys going to tell Seungmin?" Han rests his head on his hand, watching the older male.

"Whenever kitten is ready." He looks at Han before looking back at the microwave. "I'm not going to rub it in his face or anything. I really do like her, and I want her comfortable." Han nods, watching as Lee Know grabs the food from the microwave and heads back to his room. Seeing you asleep curled up under his blanket makes his heart swell.

Going over to his bed, he sits on the edge near you. He sets the food on his bedside table. He gently shakes your shoulder, "kitten? I'm sure you're tired, but I need you to drink some water and eat something for me, then I'm going to take you to the bath." He rubs your arm softly as you stir awake. You let out the softest 'mm?' as you wake up. You smile sleepily up at him.

"Need you to eat, kitten." He whispers to you. You whine softly but sit up, the blanket pooling around your waist. "No whining. I don't want to wear you out too much." He chuckles softly. He has you drink some water and eat something. Grabbing a light blanket to cover you with, he takes you to his bathroom, making sure Han doesn't get another preview of you. He gives you a quick bath and cleans you carefully. Bringing you back to bed for a nap after.

——

It's a week before the boys leave for the start of their tour. You're at your apartment with your brother as he's helping you pack. He brought over a large suitcase for you as the one you had wasn't big enough.

"Are you sure I need this much clothing?" You ask him.

"We are going to be in Australia for like, two weeks, so probably." He shrugs, sitting on your bed. You hum as you fold some of your clothes, putting them neatly in the suitcase. Your phone dings and you pull it from your pocket, opening it to see a message and picture from Lee Know.

'I miss you kitten'

[Image]

Opening the picture, it's of him laying in bed, his tanktop rucked up, revealing his lower stomach, his fingertips just under the waistband of his sweatpants. You quickly snap a picture of your brother scrolling his phone with the suitcase in the foreground, sending it to your boyfriend.

'I said I missed you, sweetheart. Not your brother'

'Lol. I sent it to let you know he's here, so be careful what you send'

Lee Know was quiet for a few minutes before sending a reply.

'Misbehave? Got it'

Before you can respond, he sends you a video. Turning your volume down, you open the video. His finger tips are still in the waistband of his pants, but he's moving his hand back and forth under the fabric, slowly pushing his hand further into his pants until he grabs his length. He slowly starts to stroke himself, you watching the fabric move as he does. You're almost positive he's making lewd sounds as he does this.

The camera moves, showing off his room momentarily until the camera flips over, showing him again. He propped his phone up against something so he could use both hands. You looked at your brother quickly, thankful he wasn't watching you, too engrossed in his phone. You turn your attention back to your phone just as Lee Know settled back on his bed, stroking himself under his pants again. He uses his other hand to slowly push his sweats off his hips, pushing them down mid thigh.

He looks at the camera quickly, making a lewd motion with his tongue as he rubs his tip with his thumb. You don't realize that you were pressing your thighs together, thankfully silent, however. He uses his other hand to gently grab his balls, massaging them as he strokes himself, his eyes closing in pleasure as his brows scrunch up. His mouth moves like he's saying your name, his hips bucking up into his hand as he strokes himself faster, giving his balls a gentle squeeze.

Your thumb goes up to your mouth, biting your nail as you watch him get closer to his release. When he finally cums, it shoots out of him, landing on his hand and stomach, cock twitching in his hold. Releasing himself, he moves close to the camera as he slowly licks the cum off his hand before ending the recording. You release the breath you didn't know you were holding. Seungmin looks up at you, brow raised.

"You ok, Y/n?" He notices your flushed face and how you've been standing in the same spot for 5 minutes. "Your mysterious boyfriend sending you dirty things?" You look at him wide eyed, blush growing deeper. Seungmin makes a face, teasing you as he feigns disgust.

'I need to see you before we leave for tour, kitten'

Seungmin laughs softly. "Is he getting sad cause he won't be able to see you while we are on tour?"

You stare at him and squeak out a "yeah. Something like that." You quickly finish packing everything you can. Seungmin asks if you want him to order dinner and you tell him it's ok. He nods before getting up to give you a quick hug before he leaves.

'I'm coming over. I don't care if Seungmin is there. I need you'

Taglist

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

@honeyybbuubblleess @tenshimara @yaorzu-blog @ssunglver @hyunjinstolemyheart @skzsmylife @cookiesandcreammy @skz-ot8-stay @ihrtlix

[puppysuke]

daisuke boyfriend hc + drabbles.

hi my first head canon post :3 i am so hyperfixated on daisuke and mouthwashing itself. please someone save me. continue reading below cut! these are both sfw and nsfw, minors dni past the sfw hcs! header made by me :3

🌺 --- daisuke 100% will yap your ear off ALL day. he will not shut his mouth. not that you want him too, anyway. you love listening to him rant and ramble to no end. ~ "swansea was so mean today!" he tells you as he nuzzles into your neck, cuddling contently on the couch of the lounge room after a long day of working with swansea.

you let out a little giggle and ruffle his hair. "i'm sorry, bug," you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

"yeah, and then curly wouldn't give me a break, i don't even know what he was talking about. i wasn't paying attention, honestly..." daisuke admits sheepishly. you sigh softly and stay quiet, letting him ramble until he eventually passes out with his arms around your waist and his head on your shoulder. 🌺 --- daisuke daydreams a lot about going home and starting something more with you. after so long in space, going back to earth sounded like heaven, and then in top of that, knowing you'd be with him! he loves it! ~ daisuke had been zoned out all day, a small smile on his face as he seems miles and miles away from reality. by the time swansea delivers him back to you, he's oddly....quiet. "'suke?" you frown as you sit on your bed in the sleeping quarters. you and anya share a room since you were the only girls (sorry guys </3) on the ship, but she was currently in medical, so it was just you and daisuke alone. "are you okay?" you question. he turns to you with a big, toothy grin on his pretty face. "do you think we should get a puppy or a kitten when we're back on earth?" daisuke looked at you with big, happy eyes. he didn't even give you a chance to respond before his next question comes in. "what about our house? maybe we should just start with an apartment? do you wanna be in the city or more in the country? what about decorations? oh! and i can't wait til i can introduce you to my mom! oh, she'll love you! maybe a little more than she loves me, i-" "hey, hey," you interrupt with a chuckle, your hand flying over his lips. "calm down. is this why swansea sent you back to me?" daisuke licked your palm, laughing hard when you pulled your hand away. he was so happy with you. 🌺 --- daisuke wants nothing more than to make you laugh and smile. he will do anything to make you feel better when you're in a bad mood. ~ daisuke looked at you with a frown as you walked down the hall beside him. you seemed to be upset. he had seen you upset before, but this seemed different. you were stressed. being anya's intern, you had a lot of learning to do and today? it felt like you were doing everything wrong. as you went back to your sleeping quarters, daisuke took hold of your hand, linking your pinkie finger in his as he slowed the pace you two were walking at to a stop. "bumble bee," he starts with a pout, turning himself to face you. "are you okay? i mean, i know you're upset, but..." he trailed off for a moment. "tell me what'll make you feel better." "hmm..." you thought a moment, looking down at the ground. you knew there were a few things that could help you feel better, more like yourself. finally, you decided. "can you and i sleep in the lounge tonight and you can sing to me and tell me stories?" a smile graced daisuke's lips. he didn't much like singing, especially to other people, but for you? "of course. anything, for you," he leaned close and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. minors dni past this point. bonus nsfw hc. 🌺 --- daisuke is a soft dom. everyone writes him as a sub, but i do not see this man as a sub. he is 1000% a soft dom and very heavy on praise both giving and receiving. ~ daisuke let out soft pants as he had you under him. he held your hands above your head in one of yours, the other hand cupping your cheeks. you were face to face, inches apart. his favorite position was missionary and you had no complaints, getting to look into those pretty eyes of him. "doing so good for me, sweetheart," daisuke says in a soft and gentle voice as he kissed your forehead with a gentleness that wasn't even describable. "feeling good, hm? am i making you feel good?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your cheek in soft strokes.

you nod, looking up into his eyes as your mouth hangs open. you gasp and turn your head to the side, leaning into his touch. "m-mhm, feels good, feels perfect. love you so much." you whine out in a breathy voice. daisuke lets out a soft laugh and kissed your temple.

"i love you too, sweets." 🌺 --- he is super vocal in bed. whines, whimpers, grunts, babbling, you name it. much like how he never stops talking, he never stops making noises in bed. ~ daisuke has his head in between your legs, his hands gripping the flesh of your thighs tightly to keep them spread enough. you're lying with you back of the bed and your legs hanging off the edge so he can have you there. despite him giving you head, he's the one that's louder. he whines as he sucks on your clit, he gasps when he prods at your entrance with his tongue, the cold metal of his tongue piercing making you whine too, wiggling your hips.

much to your dismay, daisuke pulls away. you sit up and look at him, confused. he looked up into your eyes and pouts, his chin and lips, even the tip of your nose, glistening in the dim led lights of the room.

"you're so fuckin' sweet!" he puts his chin on your knee, resting his head there for a minute. "it was like...perfect!" you knew he had to have been lying. all you had eaten was whatever the fuck curly those machines in the lounge made and cans of soup, you were in no way having a healthy, balanced diet, but you still appreciated the sentiment.

[rebel-hunk-enjoyer]

Am I too late for the KalluZeb ask? I hope not and if I'm not could you do 27 (Craziest place they had sex?) and 19 (What do they fight about most often? (Alternative: what was their biggest fight?)? If it's too late just ignore this message.

It is absolutely not too late! I will lovingly answer every ask about these idiots because I just adore talking about them and talking about headcanons absolutely helps me in my writing process - thank you so very much for indulging me!! 🥺

27. Craziest place they had sex?

Oh, oh, oh! I am going to answer this with something from one of my WIPs: Up a tree on Yavin IV.

So, in this particular WIP, they end up getting together on Yavin IV after working closely around the base and spending time together in the jungle. So much time that they have a particular tree they like to climb together for the view. And then for making out. And then for doing each other nasty styles. Which I don't imagine is that difficult of a thing for a lasat, but Kallus gets bonus points for being nearly 40 and boinking that far off the ground.

Of course, it's the craziest place because I wrote the scene before I really got into the gritty details of what Yavin IV is like in Legends, only to discover that they were getting down surrounded by a jungle full of INCREDIBLY SCARY CREATURES -- including piranha beetles that attack prey in swarms. How the hell Zeb can get it up in a scenario where they can be attacked by a swarm of carnivorous bugs at any moment is ... well, it's actually one of the reasons this story is currently a WIP. I love the whole scene and the whole idea of them wandering off for alone time together, but I keep thinking about these damn bugs. 😂😂😂

19. What was their biggest fight?

(I answered the first part of this one here but saved the alternate for this ask! 🥰)

Their biggest fight is about adopting children once they retire. It isn't a huge outright argument with shouting like they'd do in the rebellion, just Kallus brings it up one day (and it's been a long time coming, he's been thinking about it a lot, they're both so good with Jacen and there are so many kits who need a loving home) ... and Zeb just immediately, vehemently, shuts him down: absolutely the fuck not.

And it's like being slapped in the face, because they've gotten so much better at talking to each other. Yes, they still bicker, but the bickering leads to honest discussion and consensus and agreement on a course of action, so Zeb putting his foot down without even pretending they can discuss it is not their normal. It's also hurtful. And Kallus doesn't know what to do with that, actually, after this many years of their own brand of healthy communication, so he ends up just sitting on it. And sitting on it. And Zeb is doing New Republic Defense Force stuff, suddenly, and it's like he doesn't even want to be home with Kallus since he made the suggestion and what if Zeb actually doesn't? What if this is just how their relationship ends, at the crossroads where Kallus wants a family and Zeb doesn't?

It all comes out in messy ways, eventually. In ways where Kallus refuses to bicker about the normal stuff and Zeb spends more time away from home and the garden falls into disrepair and all the old grannies at the market who used to tease them both about their relationship are now just quiet and looking concerned until one day it finally, finally implodes. Still, no shouting. Just a flat assessment of the situation because Kallus has worked out why Zeb won't start a family with him and it's of course because of his past, his involvement with what happened on Lasan, and how Zeb must not actually trust him - how Zeb is right not to trust him even after all this time - how he's just been on Lira San living a life that isn't truly his after doing something so horrifically unforgivable - and it's time that he stops pretending, that he goes back to Coruscant maybe and tries to find the kind of life a man like him deserves after all the destruction he's wrought -

And Zeb has to kiss him to shut him up. It's an awful kiss, too. Desperate and urgent and tearful, quite possibly the worst kiss they've ever shared, it's like they don't even fit together anymore and nothing makes sense but Zeb is trying to pour everything into it, everything he hasn't said and everything he feels and all the fear, the visceral dread in his gut that started this whole awful fight.

Because Zeb wants to start a family together, he desperately does, but the thing that's been eating him this whole time isn't the role Kallus played on Lasan, but his own. His failures - his inability to protect his people - all coming down to the realization that he could very well fail again, except he wouldn't just lose Kallus but their children, too, and he already hauled himself back from the brink after losing so much once, he can't possibly do that again.

It's like uncovering a hidden wound, finally getting all this out of his head and into the mess that's accumulated between them from not talking, so it - so he - can finally begin to heal. And he slowly does. Zeb scales back his NRDF role to be home more, they repair the garden together, the old grannies at the market breathe a sigh of relief when Kallus is back shopping for the ingredients he needs for Zeb's favorite food, and their family gradually becomes something they can talk about - even bicker about - until they reach a consensus and agree to adopt their first child.

[call-sign-shark]

Lily, fasten you seat belt because this comment is going to be a wild ride. I've got so much to say that I must apologize in advance for the length and for the number of things I'm going to quote.

I enjoy the way you opened the chapter with Tommy's peaceful morning routine after his first night at the Dreadfort. The bond he has with Syndor is adorable. I swoon when the dragon pressed him against his warm scales and purred - he's nothing but a big baby, and I look forward seeing him act such with mama Lucy. The description here is particuarly vivid, such is the case with the lirbary scene. You really manage to balance detailed and efficient descriptions without writing too much nor losing the thread of it and that's very pleasant. The meet cute with Lucy was so heartwarming !! It felt like a romantic movie, with our favorite redhead dropping her books and the handsome, melancholic Prince helping her. It's so great to see Tommy acting like a bashful schoolboy with her, and her being all flustered. I want to hug these two babies.

“No, no, go on. It’s not everyday that I’m so casually threatened.”   I giggled so hard, this was so adorable and fun at the same time. Poor Lucy was shocked hihi. They just met and I can already feel the love radiating off them, they are so pure. I love the trope love at first sight and you did such a good job with it, moreover it suits these two love birds very well. The physical description of Lucy through Tom's eyes was so magnificent, what abeauty she is. No wonder why he was left flabbergasted. I particularly love the "brown sunset" imagery for her warm eyes.

Now, I wasn't ready for the awful reputation she has and how brilliant it is to reuse her nickname Red Demon! "And at the end of each session, Lucilla Bolton would emerge from the bowels of the castle, covered head to toe in blood as red as her hair2 Oh my gosh I love it so much, the rumors surrounding her are scary as heck - and they are rendered tragic when you know that she's forced to do it and that it is a torture for her too... I'm side-eyeing Amos hard here. With that being said, Tommy immediately knowing that there was more behind it mad me clap. YES TOM. Side note, the fact they are both quiet in nature and very observant is so greeeeat. What a team they'd make. "

Now, I wasn't ready for the awful reputation she has and how brilliant it is to reuse her nickname Red Demon! "And at the end of each session, Lucilla Bolton would emerge from the bowels of the castle, covered head to toe in blood as red as her hair2 Oh my gosh I love it so much, the rumors surrounding her are scary as heck - and they are rendered tragic when you know that she's forced to do it and that it is a torture for her too... I'm side-eyeing Amos hard here. With that being said, Tommy immediately knowing that there was more behind it mad me clap. YES TOM. Side note, the fact they are both quiet in nature and very observant is so greeeeat. What a team they'd make. "Those were not the eyes of a soulless torturer." SURE. And his observation doesn't come from nowhere since I bet he knows how to unmask real cruel people. The whole moment where he hesitates to suggest her to come see him in King's Landing is ADORABLE. Look at our little cold Prince already looking to meet Lucy more.

Aaaah you mentioned the episode in Highgarden and the fact she still writes to Lady Rose, this is adorable. I love that these two stayed in touch. Their friendship is pristine.🖤

Now I'm going to repeat myself but your treatment of Amos is a fucking masterpiece. To the point that you've managed to make me afraid of my own character. I adore how you can feel that he governs pretty much everything and that his presence is suffocating even when he's not physically here. That's something I already said in the previous chapter the but fact each character are very often saying "Amos did this, Amos thinks that, Amos wants this" is so oppressing and very much what I pictured myself. Especially when paired with Lucy's anxious body language when she spins her ring. And how she closes herself and reply that it's not a topic she wants to talk about randered it even more creepy. That's such a realistic traumatic response...

“I’ve never seen him so…taken with someone before.” GNNNNN LILY IIM SCREAMING. YESSS.

"For fuck’s sake. Focus. He forced himself to swallow around his desires” He's already so heels-over-head for head aw. And the moment he focuses on her lips and notices every detail - the fact they are a bit chapped but still look soft - is so intimate!

Okay now when I told you that you've managed to make me scared of my own character I wasn't joking. I literally stopped breathing when Amos appeared and, for that, thank you. Thank you for doing such a great job with him, to the extent of writing about his crushing and terrifying aura so well that even I can feel it through your prose. I am obsessed with the little body language things you add like this: "Lucilla quickly drawing away from him, a half frightened look crossing her face before it was wiped from her features, replaced instead by that tensing of her jaw, defiance already starting to simmer in her eyes. Like she was preparing for an argument. " This is pure talent. This, and the fact he's very often silently questioning/demanding explanations from Lucy. Poor doll, she must always feel cornered like a little animal in front of a predator. I swear when he left I finally breathed again.

"He felt his lips pull upwards a fraction. Ah. Perhaps that was why he felt such kinship with her." I didn't even think about that but now that I read about it... Yes? How could have I been so blind to this obvious link? They are both outcasted in their family so they are in the best position to understand and empathize with the other.

Aaahhhh the dinner scene... This comment is already too long but I really cannot stop and I'm sorry if I'm bothering you. Her conversation with Teddy was so fun. Especially that part about him willing to steal Tom from her, jokingly said of course aha. He really is a little gay ball of chaos and sunshine <3. As their conversation unfolded, I melted at how Tommy and Lucy looked for and silently greeted each other. Their almost telepathic bond (while they barely know each other) is something I really adored, especially that whole scene with Victor, when she mentally begs him not to say anything... He must have felt that Victor would have got back at her if he did.This is so soft... The panic she felt when she came to sit with her made me laugh so much, a real teenager in love I said. Pure first love.🖤 Like, the two of them brishing each other's fingers and not daring to do more hedkvletgdsdfs.. My babies. You really belong to each other. The "she felt safe with him", while just one sentence, is SO FUCKING IMPORTANT to Lucy.

Their whole conversation and Lucy's confession had me on the edge of my seat. As you wrote, the fact she's literally risking her life if words about her talking badly of Amos end up coming back to him madee the scene so intense. We can see that poor Lucy constantly live in fear of her family hurting her. But her description of Amos' opinion on Victor is on point. See, she's so observant and clever!! She managed to catch the little details while her father is completely oblivious to them. The whole confession was perfect and I was very tempted to copy/paste it entirely because... Perfection is not even strong enough. It's adorable how she's so worried for both Hev and the fact Amos is going to be King, granted him an immense power. Her fears are pretty legitimate and Tom's replies to them are exactly what I had in mind. “My cousin is no shrinking violet. She’s more than capable of protecting herself. And she has Kairaxès at her side.” // “Lord Bolton may be poised to be king, but I have no intention of handing over our dynasty or all of our power to him. Heavenerys will still be queen, and myself and members of my family will continue sit on the small council.” Absolutely!

Thomaryon shrugged. “You can, if you like.” He glanced over at where Heavenerys was still standing with Amos. Her arms were linked with his, smiling up at him adoringly. “But it won’t change anything.” omggg I loved this passage so much. Very spot on once again, and I'm still shocked by how your portrayal of Tommy is exactly what I intended to do with him.

broooooo, blablabla Elyas... ELYAS AT COURT. Let me side wth Lucy and be disgusted along with her. Bro, even Amos would be like "aha no. Go with Fynlor and let the adults work."

And last but not least... THAT FUCKING LAST SCENE. CAN YOU HOLD MY PROTEIN SHAKE WHILE I AM BASHING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL PLEASE??? The little mention of Aerthurys' mental health decaying since the wedding announcement and how stupid Thomaryon thinks it is, knowing that he was well aware of the outcomes in case he still wanted to get involved with Hev... This is so Tommy! I am also obsessed by the relationship you crafted between Hev and Tommy because this is also what I had in mind. He's acting both like a councelor and as a big brother. And Heaven gently teasing him about women is very much little sister-coded. Also while indeed strong and wicked, she is only seventeen; a bit naive and has been sheltered by Polly. You are 100% right.

“She’s…” Beautiful. Warm. Sweet. Fiery. “Nice,” he cleared his throat quickly. “I think you and her will get along.” THIS MADE ME GO BRRRR... OMG SO CUTE. He's already so obsessed - in a good way. Pls I need more of Tommy simping for Lucy.

Now, I told you but that whole conversation got me ecstatic. What a masterpiece! From Polly already showing beef against Lucy (yeah, I got the mean jab aha) to the "Oh he's wonderful --" //"Can you control him?" exchange .... Im yelling. The words "control/handle" Tommy uses and how he emphasizes on the fact that she has to be certain she can handle Amos not only today or tomorrow but for the rest of their life is so powerful.

As for one of the best sentence... “Then he will be my monster.” Just thank you. Listen, I got tears in my eyes when I read this, do you know what? Whether you did it on purpose or not, I wrote a similar thing in which Hev says "He might be a monster but he is MY monster" and the fact you wrote this line literally warmed my heart.

That was wonderful Lily!!!! HAT OFF.

Part 1: Hidden Devotions

Summary: Tommy and Lucy get a chance to speak to each other, and Lucy does her best to warn the Targaryens of the man poised to marry the heir to the throne.

Word Count: 5,924

Warnings: References to torture, incest, and violence.

Notes: Heavenerys and Amos belong to @call-sign-shark, and Rose Tyrell, Jared II Stark, and the other Stark boys belong to @justrainandcoffee.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: What Dragons Dream Of

The early morning air was crisp against Tommy’s cheeks, a slight breeze ruffling at his hair. 

He tugged his cloak tighter around his shoulders, grateful that the Boltons had thought to provide them with some additional clothing more suited to the northern elements than their own. If he was indeed to start regularly making the trip up here to check on Heavenerys, he was going to need to get a whole new wardrobe for such occasions. 

Beneath his hand, he felt Syndor’s side flex with a snort. Seeming to sense that he was chilled, the dragon’s tail curled against the grass, bumping gently against the back of Tommy’s legs to try to draw him closer to his warm side. 

Tommy chuckled, leaning his cheek against his dragon’s inky scales, closing his eyes at the pleasant burn of them, the cold quickly banished from his bones. 

“Thank you, Syndor,” he said in High Valyrian. A purr rumbled from the dragon’s chest in response, his nose nuzzling at Tommy affectionately.

Tommy smiled, giving him a few strokes along his great side, just enjoying the warmth and comfort of being alone with his dragon. No distrusting eyes staring at him. No whispers behind his back when the utterers thought he couldn’t hear. No judgement burning into his skin.

He sighed, opening his eyes. Giving Syndor one final pat, he pulled away.

“I’ll come see you later,” he promised. Syndor chirped at him in understanding, curling up on the grass. He looked like an enormous, scaled black cat whenever he did that. Happy and content to doze in a patch of sunlight, a slight twitch wracking through his limbs every once in a while as he dreamed of whatever it was that dragons dreamed of.  

Tommy passed a few of the other dragons, most still slumbering soundly, on his way back to the Dreadfort’s gates. He felt awful leaving them out in the cold like this. Even if they did not seem to mind it. 

He stepped through the gates and into the courtyard, glancing around. It was early enough that most of the castle seemed to still be asleep. Not that he minded; it was good to have some time to himself before another day that was likely to be full of meetings and mingling.

Making his way back inside, he slipped off his leather gloves, rubbing his hands together against the cold. He stopped a bustling serving girl to point him in the direction of the library, following her instructions up a quick climb of the stairs and through a few winding hallways until he was pushing open huge oak double doors. 

He was greeted with dozens upon dozens of shelves, each stuffed near to bursting with books. Letting the doors swing shut behind him, Tommy picked one aisle at random to walk down, eyes sliding over the vast assortment of spines detailing practically every subject imaginable, perusing lazily for something that might catch his attention. He was impressed. Though it had nothing on the library in the Red Keep, it was still a surmountable collection. 

There was a sudden loud, heavy thud from a few rows over, followed by several more, and a soft, irritated mumbling. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, following the noise to find the tiny Lady Lucilla between two stacks, attempting to balance an armful of books almost as big as her. A few had fallen from her grasp to land on the floor around her. She huffed, attempting to reach down to pick up the books even with the rest still in her arms. 

With quick steps, Tommy walked down the aisle to her, bending to help gather up the fallen books. Her shoulders stiffened at the sound of his footsteps, eyes remaining downcast towards the floor. 

“I swear, if you get on my ass about this too, I will–” she began to say, but immediately stopped, eyes growing wide as saucers and jaw falling open when her gaze finally lifted to meet his. Tommy felt his eyebrow twitch upwards again, fighting back an amused grin.

“No, no, go on. It’s not everyday that I’m so casually threatened.”   

“Prince Thomaryon…I am so sorry!” she stammered, cheeks turning the same shade as her hair. “I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s alright.” He reached for another of the fallen books.

“You don’t have to do that. I can manage,” Lucilla tried to insist, still looking adorably flustered. Tommy shook his head. 

“Nonsense. I don’t mind.” When he raised his eyes to her, it was to find Lucilla watching him, her blush seeming to grow when their gazes met. 

Tommy swallowed hard. She was even more beautiful up close than when she had first caught his eye in the courtyard yesterday. A tiny thing, somehow even shorter and more petite than Heavenerys. Slender, but curved in all the right places, with long red hair that fell in tousled waves down her back. Her fair skin was smattered with freckles even more numerous than his own, her eyes a warm, shining sunset brown.

But beneath the soft, wide-eyed expression, he could see a hint of the stern hardness that had been emblazoned on her face yesterday. A look which had only deepened when she and Amos had briefly made eye contact when he introduced her to Heavenerys. It seemed to be a common expression here in the north; a result of the harsh elements and distrust that seemed to permeate throughout the region. 

The northmen were a hard, wild people. They would do well to remember that. 

The Red Demon of the Dreadfort. That was what they called her. It was unclear how exactly the nickname had come about. During a break when they were flying up from King’s Landing, Aeda had started spinning stories about how Lucilla Bolton got the title because of her role as one of the Dreadfort’s torturers. That it was said screams would echo from the bowels of the deepest dungeons of the castle whenever the red haired lady would descend into their depths to convene with the poor souls who had been dragged before her. Some said that the screaming was so loud, villagers residing along the Weeping Water could hear it. And at the end of each session, Lucilla Bolton would emerge from the bowels of the castle, covered head to toe in blood as red as her hair.  

But one look in her eyes, and Tommy knew that could not be all there was to the story. Even if there was any truth in it, some significant detail had been left out; the picture left incomplete. Those were not the eyes of a soulless torturer. There was too much warmth in them.

“So,” he said, quickly looking away, realizing that he had been staring. “Are you checking all of these out…?”

“Returning, actually,” she straightened up, sliding a book into the shelf. Tommy finished gathering the remaining ones that had fallen to the floor, following her as she began to wander through the stacks, returning each book to its proper place. “Thank you. And I’m sorry again for…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She cast him a shy smile, and he felt a slight swoop in his stomach that he tried to ignore. Fuck, she was pretty. 

“How are you finding the north, my prince?”

“Cold.”

She hummed in sympathy. “I imagine it’s quite grim compared to the capitol.”

“Have you ever been to King’s Landing?”

“No.”

He frowned. “Not even when you came of age?” Many children of the noble houses came to the capitol to be presented at court, usually with the intention of finding a wife or husband if they were not already betrothed. 

Lucilla shook her head. “My father wouldn’t permit it.”

Tommy cocked his head. That made sense, he supposed. Had she been presented at court, he was sure he would have remembered her. “He wouldn’t?”

“No.” 

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think that he thought anyone would be interested in the daughter of a second son.” She adjusted the books in her arms, an uncomfortable look crossing her face. “Anyway…the furthest south I’ve ever been is to Highgarden. But I was so little, I barely remember any of it.”

“What were you doing in Highgarden?” 

Lucilla stretched up onto her toes, trying to shove a book into a shelf above her head. Tommy took it from her, sliding it back into place. She cast him a thankful look.

“Something about Amos going to ward there. But the arrangement fell through while we were there.”

“Lord Tyrell chose the Baratheon boy instead.” Tommy was only vaguely aware of the incident. Something to do with Amos’s temper getting the better of him and causing Lord Tyrell to send him away. 

“That’s right.” A wistful look entered Lucilla’s eyes. “I’d like to go back there someday. I still write to Lady Rose, sometimes.”

“Lady Rose is a kind woman,” Tommy had not yet met her himself, but word of Highgarden’s most treasured flower had spread far and wide across the realm.

“Yes,” Lucilla agreed. “But usually Riverrun is as far south as we travel.”

“Your mother is a Tully.”

“That’s right.” She slid the last of her books into its proper place on the shelves.

“Well…” Tommy hesitated, momentarily worried that what he was about to suggest might be a little too forward. “Heavenerys and Lord Bolton will be expected to travel to King’s Landing from time to time to make appearances at court. Perhaps you and your family can join them, sometime.”

Something flickered in Lucilla’s eyes, a soft smile finding its way onto her lips. “I would like that.”

Tommy was suddenly deeply aware of just how close they were standing, their chests practically brushing. It wasn’t often that he found himself so much taller than someone. The top of her head barely came up to his chin. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he noticed her eyes lingering on his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucilla cleared her throat awkwardly. “I’m being so rude. Were you looking for something in particular here? The Maester isn’t usually in this early in the morning…” 

Tommy gave a shake of his head. “I was just looking around to pass the time.”

“Why were you up so early?” she asked, head cocking curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking,” she added quickly. 

“I like the quiet of the mornings. It’s a good time to think. And I wanted to check on the dragons before breakfast.”

Her eyes lit up at the mention of the dragons. “How are they doing?”

“They’re fine.”

Her hands, empty of books now, started fiddling with the few plain gold rings she was wearing. “I’m sorry that we don’t have anywhere better than the field to put them.”

“It’s alright. Truth be told, I think it’s good for them to be out in the open for a while, rather than cooped up in the dragon pit back home.”

She looked like she wanted to ask him something, but decided against it. “Well,” she glanced towards the door, “if you’re hungry, breakfast ought to be finally ready about now. And I expect Amos and my father will both be awake. Even if no one else is.”

“Alright.” He followed her out of the library and down the hall, letting her guide the way to the great hall. “Thank you for keeping me company this morning,” he told her as they descended down the stairs. Lucilla gave him another one of those shy, sweet smiles. 

“Thank you for saving me from my mountain of books.”

He had to push down another smile, momentarily puzzled at how many times he’d had to do so since encountering her in the library. It felt so…easy to be around her. He could not even have begun to explain why. She was a Bolton. Practically a complete stranger. He should have felt wary at best when it came to being alone with her.

“Amos and the princess seem quite pleased with each other,” Lucilla remarked as they walked.

“You sound surprised.”

“Amos hasn’t been interested in marriage at all. He refused every match brought before him until he was offered the future queen.” Her fingers were twisting at her rings again. “I’ve never seen him so…taken with someone before.”

Tommy cocked his head, still trying to puzzle out the details regarding the clear animosity between Lord Bolton and Lucilla. “You and him don’t get along.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway.

“No. Not since I was a child.”

“Why?”

Her pace slowed, shoulders tensing, jaw setting as though it were locking tight around the answer to his question.  

“Lady Lucilla?” Tommy pressed. 

“It’s not a pleasant topic of conversation.” An odd, faraway look crossed her beautiful features, as though her mind was somewhere else. Locked in some haunting, dark memory that had the color draining a little from her cheeks, the warm light flickering out in her eyes.

They came to a stop at a door leading into the great hall, her small hand enclosing around the knob. Before she could turn it, Tommy reached out, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, turning her gently to face him. He tried to ignore the way something tightened in his chest at the feeling of the warmth from her body even through the layers of her dress. 

She looked up at him, eyes wide. She had lovely, full pink lips. Despite being chapped a little from the dry air of the north, they looked soft. 

For fuck’s sake. Focus. He forced himself to swallow around his desires. Lucilla was staring up at him, confliction apparent in her face.

“What…?” he began to ask, but the sound of approaching footsteps had Lucilla quickly drawing away from him, a half frightened look crossing her face before it was wiped from her features, replaced instead by that tensing of her jaw, defiance already starting to simmer in her eyes. Like she was preparing for an argument. 

“Prince Thomaryon. Lucilla,” Lord Amos Bolton said, dark eyes gleaming when he caught sight of them. “How surprising to see you together.”

“Good morning, Amos,” Lucilla greeted her cousin.

“What are you doing?” Amos asked, eyes narrowing at her scrutinizingly, shifting between her and Tommy suspiciously. 

Lucilla’s hands had clasped together in front of herself, gripping each other so tight her knuckles were turning white. “I…”

“I got lost,” Tommy interrupted quickly, flashing Amos a bashful smile, “trying to find my way to the great hall from the library. Lady Lucilla was kind enough to rescue me.”

Amos raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” He was still eying Lucilla questioningly. She shifted from foot to foot. 

“Just trying to be a good host, Amos,” she murmured.  

Amos frowned. “How unlike you, Lucilla.”

She managed a weak smile. “Even I know to be on my best behavior when dragons are about, cousin.” She opened the door to the great hall, shuffling aside. “After you, my prince. My lord.”

Tommy gestured for Amos to go first. Once the lord had swept into the hall, he cast another curious glance Lucilla’s way.

“Thank you,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, eyes still watching Amos warily where he was moving to sit beside Victor Bolton, already seated and eating his porridge.

“Of course,” Tommy murmured in reply, deciding that now was not a good time to try to pry further into her problems with her cousin. He shot her a half teasing look. “Are you not normally a good host?”

With Amos a good distance away, some of the tension seemed to drain out of her face. Enough so that she was able to manage a small, mischievous smirk. 

“Oh, don’t you know, my prince? No matter what I do, I will ever get their approval. I’m the outcast of the family.”

He felt his lips pull upwards a fraction. Ah. Perhaps that was why he felt such kinship with her. 

“So am I.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Dinner was a quieter affair than it had been last night. Only members of house Bolton and Targaryen occupied the great hall, so that the families could get to know each other better without any distractions from the other houses. A few stood to mingle or swap seats as the meal went on, and soon the buzz of multiple conversations was flowing naturally throughout the hall.

Lucy sat at her spot next to Teddy at the high table, sipping her wine and humming along to whatever it was her brother was talking to her about. She wasn’t really listening. Her mind had been distracted all day, endlessly replaying the encounter in the library with Prince Thomaryon. The blue of his eyes staring piercingly back at her. The deep rumble of his voice. The way his lips kept twitching up at the edges as if he were suppressing a smile. The warmth of his hand through the thick layers of her dress when he touched her arm. 

“Lucy?”

“Hm?”

Teddy poked her. “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it. There really was no point in trying to pretend. 

“Sorry.”

Her little brother–even though he was only a year younger than her, she would always think of him that way–cocked his head. His shaggy blonde hair fell into his face, that mischievous glow that was almost always present in his eyes starting to burn more earnestly. “What is it that’s gotten you so distracted all day?”    

Lucy wriggled in her seat, gaze darting across the great hall to where Thomaryon was sitting before she could stop herself. As if sensing her looking at him, the prince’s eyes shifted to fix on hers. She quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks warm. Beside her, having followed her gaze, Teddy grinned. 

“Ah.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say a thing.” He raised his wine glass to his lips, grin broadening. “Can’t really blame you though.” His voice dropped conspiratorially. “Those blue eyes of his really are something.”

“I ran into him in the library this morning. He’s nice,” that last part came out as a whisper.

Her brother rested his chin on his palm, eyes still dancing with amusement, but something more analytical had entered them as well, appraising her face in a way that made her shift nervously.

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smitten before.”

“I am not–”

“That blush you’re sporting says otherwise.”

She swallowed hard, frowning. “I barely even know him.”

“So?” Teddy smirked at her. “He keeps looking over here at you.”

She chanced a quick glance back across the hall to find that he was right. Thomaryon was indeed staring at her, but this time when their gazes met, neither of them immediately looked away. Thomaryon raised an eyebrow, one side of his lips tugging up. 

Hi, his eyes seemed to say.     

Lucy offered him a small smile in return. Hello.

“You should go over there and talk to him,” Teddy said in her ear. She pulled her eyes away from Thomaryon to fix back upon her brother.

“No.” Her hands fidgeted with each other, twisting at her rings. “I’m sure that he’s had more than enough conversation with me for one day.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Oh you do, do you? And why’s that?”

Teddy grinned. “‘Cos he’s coming over right now.”

She felt her eyes widen, panic momentarily seizing her. “What–!?”

Teddy smirked, picking up his goblet. “If you do manage to snare him, I don’t suppose you’d consider sharing, would you?”

“Theodan!”

“I’m only kidding! Mostly. Good luck!” He shot her a wink, then stood from his seat and sauntered away to go speak with Prince Jon in one of the far corners of the hall.

Lucy drew in a shaky breath to try to steady herself, looking up when the prince’s shadow fell across her. The expression on his face was almost shy. 

“Lady Lucilla. Good evening.”

“Good evening, Prince Thomaryon.”

He nodded to the vacant seat next to her. “May I…?”

She nodded, hoping that she didn’t come across as too eager. “Yes, yes, of course.”

He sank into the chair, setting his goblet down onto the table.

“How was your first day at the Dreadfort?” she asked. “I heard that you were meeting with my father and cousin earlier.” The three of them had disappeared after breakfast to speak in Amos’s study. Something about discussing the structure of the court and small council once Heavenerys and Amos had been crowned. 

“It was alright,” he shrugged. “Productive.”

“Will you be remaining as Hand of the King?” Her eyes fixated on the pin clipped to the left side of his chest, glinting slightly in the dim candlelight. He had been appointed to the position during Pollyanna’s regency, and by all accounts had taken to the role as though he were born for it. 

“Yes. We discussed it, and Amos wants to keep me on.”

“That must be a relief.”

“Yes, it is,” he admitted. “We weren’t sure if Amos would want to name your father to the position instead.”

“Ah,” she couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the suggestion, even though she understood why they might have thought that. “Lucky for you, I don’t think that Amos is as fond of my father as he might initially appear.”

Thomaryon cocked his head. “Really? I thought that Lord Victor was his primary advisor and mentor after Lord Bolton’s father died.”

“He was. But I think Amos prefers to keep him at arm's length. He…” she frowned, struggling to put the relationship into words, “he knows my father is loyal. And useful. But I don’t think he carries particular affection for him.” It was perhaps one of a few things that she and her cousin had in common.

“But your father cares for him.”

“Yes,” she looked away. “He is the first born son that he never had.” It was impossible to keep the bitterness entirely out of her voice. 

Thomaryon reached out, hesitated, and then brushed his thick fingers across her knuckles to draw her attention back to him. Lucy swallowed harshly at just how much bigger his hand was compared to hers. It wasn’t until their eyes met that he seemed to even realize what he was doing, quickly snatching his hand back and leaving her to mourn the loss of his burning touch. 

“About earlier…” Thomaryon cleared his throat awkwardly. “My questions about you and Amos…I apologize if I overstepped…”

Lucy shook her head quickly. “It’s alright.”

The prince relaxed, face softening a little. “If there ever is anything that you feel you ought to tell myself or my family, you are always welcome to. Anything you say will be taken into confidence, and no punishment will come to you. You have my word.”

You don’t know my family very well, she thought sadly, but smiled at him for the gesture. All day, she had agonized over whether or not she should say something to one of them. If she did warn them regarding what they were sending Heavenerys into, and word got back to Amos that it was her who spoke up, the consequences would be dire.

But…could she really live with herself if she said nothing, and left the princess to walk into the jaws of a rabid dog potentially unawares?

She met Thomaryon’s gaze. There was something warm there, despite the icy blue of his eyes. She could not have entirely said why, but she felt safe with him. She did not doubt that he would make good on his promise of protection if that was what it came to. 

“You’ve heard the rumors about him,” she started to say, slowly. “About this place.”

“Yes.”

“And yet you promised her to him anyway.” That was the one thing she could not understand. Amos’s reputation was no secret. He wore it proudly. They had to know what he was. Why would they have offered him the future queen’s hand, and by extension one of the most powerful seats in the entire kingdom, if they were aware of all that? 

“Heavenerys is certain that she can handle him.”

“Can she?”

“Yes, I believe she can.” 

“Even if everything the rumors say about him is true?”

Thomaryon cocked his head. “My cousin is no shrinking violet. She’s more than capable of protecting herself. And she has Kairaxès at her side.”

Lucy nodded. The enormous, frost-scaled dragon was a formidable, legendary creature. She certainly would not want to risk his blue flames or sharp teeth if she was Amos. 

“He’s going to be king,” she said softly, her last hopes that the arrangement would fall through slowly dying, glancing across the room to where Amos was standing next to Heavenerys, close enough for their sides to be brushing while they conversed with her father. 

“Lucilla,” Thomaryon leaned forward, an urgency in his face. His voice lowered. “Lord Bolton may be poised to be king, but I have no intention of handing over our dynasty or all of our power to him. Heavenerys will still be queen, and myself and members of my family will continue sit on the small council.”

Lucy let her arm rest on the table, her fingers but inches away from his, aching to reach out and recapture the comfort that the warmth of his brief touch had brought her earlier, but not brave enough to actually do so. She nodded, letting his words sink in and soothe some of her worries. 

“Just…be careful with him,” she murmured. 

Thomaryon nodded. “We will.”

She let out a deep sigh of relief at knowing he had taken her warnings seriously and understood what he was dealing with. And yet…

“I feel as though I should say something to the princess as well…” 

Thomaryon shrugged. “You can, if you like.” He glanced over at where Heavenerys was still standing with Amos. Her arms were linked with his, smiling up at him adoringly. “But it won’t change anything.”

Lucy had to agree with him on that front. Amos was looking at Heavenerys with a similar expression of adoration splitting his face. Lucy shook her head. She barely recognized him. Never before had she seen him so…happy.

“We had to marry her to a northman,” Thomaryon explained, swirling the wine in his goblet lazily. 

“The people have been growing restless up here,” she concurred. 

“Yes. And with your house’s recent amassing of power, alongside how formidable the Starks already are, my aunt is worried about rebellions.”

“Why didn’t you marry her to one of the Stark boys?”

“Word is that Jared II is not particularly interested in the company of women, and the other two are already betrothed.”

“And I don’t imagine that the queen was all too interested in marrying the princess off to a house of any lesser standing than ours,” Lucy concluded.

“That’s right.”

She hummed, still watching Amos and Heavenerys, trying to discern if either of them were faking the love that seemed to be sparking between them. “Perhaps it will end up being a good match and I’m worrying for nothing.”

“Perhaps.” 

She looked back at Thomaryon to find him still gazing at her. The warm intensity of his eyes had her heart skipping a beat, warmth finding its way back to her cheeks. She opened her mouth, intending to change the subject to something more pleasant, when a voice interrupted. 

“Prince Thomaryon,” her father said, a hand landing on the back of her chair. Lucy felt her spine go rigid, jaw setting in a grimace at the unwanted presence. “So sorry to interrupt, but if you have a moment, I want to introduce you to my son, Elyas.”

Thomaryon frowned, looking like he was about to protest.

“That’s alright,” Lucy said quickly, knowing that if he refused his request, it would only cause a fuss between her and her father later. He’d probably accuse her of holding the prince hostage with her silly, boring little stories. “I’m sure that I’m boring the poor prince to tears anyway,” she managed a weak smile. Her father merely scowled at her before turning his expectant face back to Thomaryon.

The prince looked back at her, frowning a little, still looking conflicted. 

Please, just do what he wants. It’s easier, that way, she silently pleaded.

Whether he read the message in her eyes or not, Thomaryon stood, albeit reluctantly. “Alright.” But before departing with her father, he reached out, taking Lucy’s hand in his, and lifted it to press a quick kiss to the back of her palm. Lucy’s eyes widened at the softness of his lips against her skin. “It was lovely getting to speak with you, Lucilla,” he murmured, letting her hand go. 

“You as well, my prince,” she managed to stutter out. He gave her a small smile, lashes lowered slightly, light from the candles reflecting in his ice colored eyes. Her heart felt as though it was doing backflips in her chest, cradling the hand he had kissed to her chest as if she could infinitely hold the memory of his lips on her skin. Her father led him impatiently away, already saying something about his hopes that there may be a place for Elyas at court someday. Lucy cringed, feeling vaguely ill at the idea. She had been so focused on warning Thomaryon about Amos, she had not even gotten a chance to offer him a heads up regarding her brothers. 

“Cockblock,” Teddy muttered scowling at the back of their father’s head, coming up to stand beside her. “Ow!” he complained upon her elbowing him in the side.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” she scolded halfheartedly while he retook his seat next to her. It wasn’t like she needed anymore of that. She already got hollered at for things enough as it was. 

Teddy flashed her a smile, as if he knew something that she didn’t. “Oh, sweet sister. Based on the way that he looks at you, I think you already are.”  

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy rapped his knuckles against the wooden door leading into Heavenery’s chambers impatiently. It took only a moment for the door to be opened not by Heavenerys, but by Polly. 

“What do you want?” his aunt asked, looking puzzled at his presence. 

“I need to speak with Hev about something.”

She raised an eyebrow, but stepped aside to let him in. Heavenerys was sitting on a loveseat near the fire, working to undo the intricate braids her hair had been styled in for the day. 

“Hello, Tommy,” she greeted him warmly. “What’s going on? Is it Aerthurys?”

He sighed. It had been his and Jon’s job to keep their older brother from losing his damned mind during their time at the Dreadfort. Ever since Heavenerys’s betrothal to Amos had been announced, their older brother had been teetering on a ledge, moments away from spiraling into madness.

Tommy understood, to some level. Aerthurys had loved Heavenerys since they were children. It had to be agonizing for him to watch her be wrenched from his side and married to another man. But that did not stop Tommy from wishing that he could get a damned grip over himself. They may be royalty, but none of them were above duty. They had known that this day would come eventually. Polly had made it clear from the beginning that they would not be partaking in the tradition of incest that their family had enacted in the past. They needed to strengthen their ties with the other houses across the realm, and dilute some of the madness and sickness which generations of inbreeding had wrought upon them. 

Tommy struggled to understand how Aerthurys had not properly prepared himself for this moment. But then again, if he had any sense at all, his brother wouldn’t have gotten involved with their cousin in the first place.

“No,” he reassured, taking a seat across from Heavenerys, “it’s not Aerthurys.”

She tipped her head curiously. Polly sat down next to her. “So what is it?”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve spoken to Lady Lucilla some today.”

Heavenerys’s expression warmed. “I saw you sitting beside her at dinner. What’s she like?”

“She’s…” Beautiful. Warm. Sweet. Fiery. “Nice,” he cleared his throat quickly. “I think you and her will get along.”

Heavenerys brightened further. 

“But…?” Polly prompted, expression still stiff. Tommy kept his gaze locked with Heavenerys’s.

“You and Amos seem to be getting on well.”

His cousin’s face lit up like the sun, eyes glowing with the brightness of a woman newly in love. “Oh, Tommy, he’s wonderful…”

“Can you control him?”

Her smile faded a little. “What…?”

He shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the over. He hated to potentially throw cold water onto her happiness, but he needed to be certain about this. “Lucilla says that all the rumors about him are true.”

Heavenerys’s smile died away. Polly’s lips pursed. “Amos has been nothing but lovely and charming when I’ve spoken to him.”

“Of course he has. You’re the queen. And his betrothed’s mother. If he were rude to you I’d be questioning his intelligence.”

Polly leaned back into the loveseat, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “You’re really going to trust the word of a torturer?”

He frowned at the reminder of the rumors that swirled around Lucilla. “I don’t think that’s what she really is.”

Polly scoffed. “Thomaryon, when it comes to beautiful women, you’re not always the best judge of character…”

He sputtered slightly in offense. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you often think with the head not attached to your shoulders,” Heavenerys giggled.

Tommy huffed, running a hand through his hair and giving a slight shake of his head. “She seems frightened of him. And her father. Look…she just wants us to be careful, that’s all.”

Heavenerys tipped her head. “That’s kind of her to worry, but she doesn’t need to.” She smiled slyly. “I’ve already got him eating from the palm of my hand, and we haven’t even spent the night together yet.”

Tommy leaned towards her, staring hard into her eyes. There was a dismissiveness in her attitude that only worried him further, but that he did not know how to combat. She was only seven and ten, and–while she may have denied it–still optimistic and naive when it came to much in the ways of the world. Polly had always been so protective over her. She’d sheltered her, sometimes too much. 

“You’re the future of the realm, Hev. I need you to be sure that you can handle him. Not just today, or tomorrow. But for all the years to come. And in all matters. We can’t have him becoming another cruel tyrant on the throne. I can help you, but there’s only so much that I can do, even as Hand…” 

Heavenerys smiled at him, leaning closer, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. “I am sure, Tommy. You don’t need to worry.”

“Even if he really is a monster?”

An edge seemed to enter her smile, something flickering within her near glowing eyes, and he was reminded of the superstitions that his cousin was kissed by the cold, cursed with something wicked and twisted.

Perhaps, that really did make her the perfect match for the dark lord of the Dreadfort.

“Then he will be my monster.”

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[bereft-of-frogs]

I was totally going to end this chapter on a cliffhanger but then I realized it was already over 5k and I'm not even close done, so the reader has been spared...

....probably....

[wherethegravelsthin]

greta gerwig has done it again (derogatory)

[xylatox]

In Between the Lines | cbg chapter 3!! I'm so excited as the story continues :))

I think the moment in reader's room as she watches the drama is so sweet :(, I absolutely love her and want to protect her so bad. — Just as the heroine closed her eyes and the male lead leaned in to kiss her, the door slammed open with a loud, dramatic noise, followed by a voice shouting, "Well isn’t this just picture perfect!”— and the moment is ruined no :((( (not me being invested in her drama)

Gyu and reader will forever be adorable :( I love them so much and how much their relationship has blossomed.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as she reread the message. No Taehyun this time? She thought about it for a few moments. It would just be her and Beomgyu, which she was okay with they spent time together often now, just the two of them but never outside of the library. — this is so cute.

Again, I will always love reader and Jiwon's relationship. I'm glad her step mom was busy so she doesn't find out about Gyu and it's cute she managed to evade her dad too.

The moment on the ice was so cute, I just embraced every single word, I genuinely love them so much.

It's super cute that Gyu calls Taehyun to talk about the time they spent as well :(( I love how both of them slowly realize they jabe feelings for the other.

The moment with her dad is so sweet??? he's so supportive I love it.

Taehyun, who had been silently watching, exhaled through his nose and rolled his eyes. He saw right through Beomgyu’s act. He wasn’t just lending her the scarf—he wanted her to have something of his. A quiet, thoughtful gesture. But Taehyun knew Beomgyu well enough to recognize that he wasn’t going to admit it.— adorable :(((

The ending of this chapter was so cute :(( I'm so glad I finally got to read it.

✧*̥˚ In Between the Lines | Choi Beomgyu *̥˚✧ pt. 3

✧ beomgyu x selective mutism fem!reader

✧ part three, word count 11.6k ✧ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. ✧ warnings: social anxiety, sooo much fluff!! ✧ an: when i tell you i crashed out about 30 times trying to upload this.... tumblr kept giving me that error when you paste too much text. so every time i would paste from docs tumblr was like ):< and honestly this would've been out sooner but apparently i don't have patience. so ig i learned how to have patience this past week. i'm nervously posting this bc im worried i may have pasted something twice but i am so tired of rereading this- i will double check tomorrow i just want to post this so bad

MASTERLIST « previous - next »

The house was quiet. Blissfully, wonderfully quiet. Y/N was home alone for the night—her dad and stepmom were out, likely at some event or gathering. It was Friday, and for once, she didn’t have to worry about the noise or tension that seemed to fill the space when they were around.

Y/N sat at her desk, curled comfortably in her chair, her legs pulled up beneath her. The small TV in the corner of her room, just to the right of her desk, cast a warm glow as her favorite drama played. It was a scene she had been waiting for—the moment the lead characters finally realized their feelings for each other. The soft instrumental built up, and Y/N held her breath, her pencil pausing mid-shade as the male lead reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind the heroine’s ear.

She exhaled, fully immersed in the drama.

The world outside her little room didn’t exist—not even the stress of the day could bother her. Just this moment, just the quiet hum of the television, the soft scratch of her pencil against paper, and the warmth in her chest as the characters on screen shared a long-awaited confession.

Her desk was a small but cozy space, the surface covered with neatly arranged art supplies and small trinkets that made her feel at home. Her latest piece sat in front of her—a carefully drawn night sky over a peaceful cityscape. Deep purples and blues blended under her careful hand, the colors rich and dreamy. She wasn’t doodling this time. This one mattered. It was the kind of drawing she’d take her time with, layering colors until it felt just right.

The scent of kimchi ramen filled the room, steam curling up from the bowl resting on a coaster beside her. Every so often, she paused to take a slow slurp, savoring the spice, the warmth spreading through her chest. Next to it, a bottled green tea sat unopened, condensation gathering against the plastic. A packaged strawberry cream bread rested nearby, waiting for when she was ready for something sweet.

On-screen, the tension between the leads melted into something softer. The heroine hesitated, her voice trembling as she admitted her feelings, and Y/N found herself gripping her pencil tighter.

"Do you think... I could ever be enough for you?" The female lead’s voice trembled as she spoke. She was beautiful, too beautiful to be the underdog, but just like any other typical drama she was cast as the loser. 

Y/N’s breath hitched in her chest, her fingers momentarily pausing in their motion across the sketch of a cozy night sky. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. The male lead stepped closer, his gaze softening as he stared into her eyes, a quiet intensity between them.

"You’re more than enough," he whispered, his voice low and steady, his hand reaching out slowly toward hers.

Y/N leaned in, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of the confession radiating through the screen, her breath caught in her throat. The music swelled, a soft piano playing in the background, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her pencil paused once more mid-air as her attention was fully captivated by the scene.

"Say it," Y/N whispered under her breath, leaning in slightly, almost as if she were the one waiting for the words.

The male lead’s lips parted, pausing for a moment to consider his words. "You’re everything to me," he finally said, his voice thick with emotion, pulling her in even closer to his body.

Y/N's heart soared, and without thinking, she stretched her legs out from underneath her, sitting up straighter, getting closer to the screen as though that might make the moment real. Her feet kicked out excitedly under the desk, her heart fluttering at the confession.

Just as the heroine closed her eyes and the male lead leaned in to kiss her, the door slammed open with a loud, dramatic noise, followed by a voice shouting, "Well isn’t this just picture perfect!”

The moment shattered instantly. Y/N’s feet kicked out again in frustration, a quiet groan escaping her lips as she slouched back in her chair. She stared at the screen, her heart sinking with the interrupted kiss. "Nooo," she whined softly, and pouted at the TV as the scene cut away.

With a huff, Y/N slouched in her chair even more, feeling the pull of the unfinished moment. As if on cue, her phone buzzed on the desk, snapping her out of her dramatic reverie.

It was a message from Beomgyu.

Y/N and Beomgyu spent yet another evening together at the library earlier, chatting and writing about random thoughts. They learned more about each other, really listening to the little details. They discussed what his favorite video games were, Y/N’s dream vacation, and even why Beomgyu had such a deep hatred for mint chocolate chip ice cream. Beomgyu: I just realized I have a test monday. Do you think I should start studying or accept my fate? Helppp

Y/N smiled softly, the weight of the interrupted drama moment lightening as she typed back.

Y/N: Depends. How bad is it? Y/N: Also?? A test on a monday?? gross.

She didn’t have to wait long for his reply.

Beomgyu: Bad enough that I should’ve started a week ago. But also? Not bad enough that I will. I'm cooked either way

Y/N giggled quietly, a soft chuckle that felt good to release.

Y/N: Sounds like fate it is~

She set her phone down with a satisfied smile, but just as she was about to settle back into the quiet of her room, another message appeared.

Beomgyu: Btw, you made it home safe, right?

Y/N blinked, a warm feeling crept up her spine.

And then another text appeared.

Beomgyu: I hope??

Her fingers hovered over the keys again, her heart swelling with a strange happiness she hadn’t expected. She took a breath, her smile softening before she typed back.

Y/N: Yeah, just relaxing.

A few seconds later, another message from Beomgyu popped up.

Beomgyu: Good. Sleep well, okay?

Y/N stared at the screen, her heart fluttering as she reread his words. There was something so simple, yet so sincere about them. A small smile tugged at her lips as she typed back.

Y/N: You too! (:

With a sigh, she set the phone aside, leaning back in her chair. The peace of the room settled around her again, and she let the soft voices from the TV wash over her. Her mind lingered on the warmth of Beomgyu's messages, even though the drama was still playing, she wasn’t paying as much attention to it anymore. The soft feeling of being thought of—that was the thing that lingered, making everything feel a little bit more right. Y/N carefully put the last few strokes on the night sky, adding a shimmer of stars to the deep blue and purple hues. The room felt completely silent now, the only sound the soft scratch of her pencil against the paper as she focused. The drama had finished, and she was all caught up for now, having turned off the TV afterward. It was just her and her drawing now, and the peace of the moment. The emotional tension of the show had faded, replaced by the quiet calm of her room and the soothing rhythm of her hand moving across the page. She glanced up at the clock. It was getting late, but for now, there was no rush. No one was home. No one to hurry her along or pressure her into anything. Y/N set the pencil down and stretched her arms, letting out a content sigh. The house was silent, except for the occasional creak and pop of the old house settling. 

With another stretch, she stood up and grabbed her empty ramen bowl, its warmth still lingering against her fingertips. Her strawberry cream bread sat untouched on the desk, wrapped tightly in its package. The faint, sweet scent of it lingered in the air, just enough to tempt her, but she wasn’t quite in the mood for it anymore. She carried the bowl to the kitchen, the silence wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She paused for a moment in the kitchen, savoring the quiet that filled the space. No shouting. No nagging. No sharp words cutting through the air like they did so often.

The emptiness of the house, rather than feeling lonely, felt comforting. It was her time to be free, to breathe without fear of being judged or corrected for the smallest things. She didn’t have to shrink down, didn’t have to hide herself.

After rinsing her bowl and placing it in the drying rack, she walked back to her room, the stillness following her like an old friend. She returned upstairs with a fresh towel, wiping down her desk and tidying up her space. The simple ritual of cleaning brought her a sense of peace, and comfort, a comforting routine before she prepared for bed. Not to mention, she’d spilled some ramen broth earlier, leaving behind a small mess.

As she brushed her teeth, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She could still feel the warmth of Beomgyu’s presence earlier that evening, and despite the time she spent alone now, his memory lingered in her thoughts. 

She rinsed her face, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, and for a moment, she couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. Why am I thinking about him so much?

The thought made her pause. Her stomach did a little flip, and she felt that warmth again, the fluttering feeling that had started creeping in over the past few weeks. Beomgyu had a way of making her feel like she was more than just the quiet girl sitting at the back of the class.

She quickly finished her bedtime routine and changed into comfortable clothes. She pulled the blanket up to her chin, the soft fabric settling around her as she slid under the covers. Her thoughts were still on Beomgyu. I guess I’ve never really had a guy who’s treated me like this before, she thought to herself. It’s... nice.

But it was more than that. As much as she tried to brush it off, she knew there was a growing attraction. She found herself replaying little moments from earlier in the night: his smile, the way his eyes softened when they looked at her, how natural and comfortable it all felt.

It was also the fact that she thought about Beomgyu even on days she didn’t see him, he always crept back into her mind, thinking about him came easily. Not just because he was handsome and sweet… and goofy… beautiful even, but because he truly cared about her. He wanted to get to know her for her, he didn’t care that she didn’t speak. 

It was obvious that Y/N had a crush on him. It was funny how easy it felt to admit it to herself now, after all the time she’d spent avoiding those types of feelings. She hated liking someone, it was complicated and she hated complicated feelings, especially when she couldn’t properly express it. It was just easier to not have feelings for someone, that way she couldn’t get hurt. She was afraid of feeling this way, she knew it could tear her apart on the inside. And yet, here she was.

It’s okay, she reminded herself. It’s just a crush. A small one.

Just as Y/N’s eyes fluttered close, she heard the soft vibration of her phone on the wooden side table next to her bed. She didn’t budge at first trying to have some self-control but it only lasted five seconds until her eyes snapped open. Y/N reached her hand out to grab her phone off the table, it was another text from Beomgyu. She couldn’t help it, a soft smile quickly appeared on her face. Beomgyu: Okayyy soo, I know you’re most likely sleeping by now but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out tomorrow?

Her heart fluttered as she read over the text twice. Beomgyu: I mean if you’re not busy already? Since it snowed all week I figured maybe we could go ice skating, I’m sure it won’t be too busy considering the season just started?

Before Y/N could even think about what she was agreeing to she sent a quick reply.

Y/N: Sure (: sounds like fun!

Beomgyu: Sorry, did I wake you? ):

Y/N: No it’s okay!!

Beomgyu: Okay cool. Oh, unlike last weekend, I won’t force Taehyun to be involved. Just us (:

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as she reread the message. No Taehyun this time? She thought about it for a few moments. It would just be her and Beomgyu, which she was okay with they spent time together often now, just the two of them but never outside of the library.

This was different, this would be outside her comfort zone, out in public with Beomgyu. On top of it, she didn’t know how to ice skate.

Y/N groaned loudly as she realized what she agreed to, an entire evening of making herself look like a fool in front of Beomgyu. How embarrassing, she thought, squeezing her eyes closed for a couple of seconds.

“Stupid,” Y/N told herself softly as she looked back at the text messages.

Y/N: Oh! Cool!

She sent the message before even thinking about it, she cringed overthinking it now, it was too short it felt like she was uninterested. Y/N quickly double-texted.

Y/N: I’m excited, it will be nice hanging out… not in the library like usual (:

Beomgyu: I know, we need to hang out outside of school haha

Beomgyu: How about I pick you up from your place? That way we can just go together

The first thought that ran through her mind was her family, she didn’t want Beomgyu to meet them, not yet at least. Especially, her stepmother, she wanted that woman to stay far away from Beomgyu. Y/N had a feeling that her stepmother would do everything she could to embarrass Y/N and make Beomgyu run off.

Y/N couldn’t let that happen, her stomach turned just at the thought, she didn’t want to lose him. The two had begun to grow close together. She figured she’d just watch out the window for Beomgyu like a hawk. Once he pulled up she would just make a run for it, giving him no time to get out of the car.

Y/N nodded to herself as she thought out her escape route.

Y/N: Yeah we can do that

She then sent another message, one that had her address in it.

Beomgyu: Perfect (: I’ll see you around 6:30?

Y/N: That works for me!!

Beomgyu: Okok please go to sleep, you’ll need the rest! Sweet dreams!

Y/N: Sweet dreams~

After Y/N sent that final message she went back to her other messages to Jiwon’s contact. With a few quick swipes, she began typing a message to her best friend.

Y/N: Jiwon. Please tell me you’re not busy tomorrow. I need to facetime you. I need help picking out an outfit ))):

With a deep sigh, Y/N locked her phone and placed it back on the table, she knew Jiwon was sleeping and wouldn’t reply until the morning.

Y/N wanted to sleep but now she was giddy and anxious about tomorrow. She had too many thoughts running through her mind. What was she going to wear? How should she do her hair? Should she wear makeup? This wasn’t a date, was it?

“Oh god…” Y/N rolled onto her side facing the wall, her hand gripping the edge of the blanket and pulling it over her shoulder, she kept a tight grip on it afterward.

Eventually, the thoughts swirling in her mind were enough to lull her to sleep, the nerves didn’t quite calm down though. As Y/N slept, she tossed and turned all night, even her anxiety crept into her dreams. They were filled with every possible thing going wrong the next day.

With a loud huff, Y/N turned to face her phone that sat leaning against a pile of books. She was trying outfits on for Jiwon, she wanted to look good for when she went to hangout with Beomgyu. “I…” Y/N glanced at her reflection in the phone. “Jiwon, I’m not wearing this.” She shook her head, thinking the choice of clothing items were insane. “What–” Jiwon dragged out in a whine. “Why not? It looks adorable on you,” Y/N wore thick tights, a flowy skirt that rested at her mid-thigh, a long-sleeve shirt, and leg warmers. She glanced at her outfit with uncertainty. “Okay, and I’m going ice skating? Which I have never done before… Shouldn’t I be wearing pants or something? I feel like I need more coverage on my legs.” “Beomgyu won’t let you fall,” Jiwon said quickly. “Come on, this is your first date with him-” Before Jiwon could continue talking Y/N stared at her with a hard glare. “Not a date.” “Sure, whatever,” Jiwon rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, if you’re really such a scaredy cat about getting hurt then wear those cute pants you wore to my birthday party a few months ago…” She took a second to think about the top option. “That… one cute top you have.. And that super cute jacket you wore the other day.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at how many times Jiwon had said cute. Y/N walked out of frame to find those items, she dug around in her dresser with shaky hands. She was so nervous for tonight, she wanted to make a good impression on Beomgyu. Eventually, she ended up finding the clothing items Jiwon was talking about then swiftly changed into them, minus the jacket. “This?” Y/N walked back into the frame, she stood there awkwardly, her fingers playing with the bottom hem of the shirt. “Not as cute as the last outfit but this will do, you still look perfect.” Jiwon nodded in approval. Y/N let out a soft huff of air, finally feeling slightly better that she finally had an outfit to wear. The knots in her stomach continued to tighten as the clock ticked closer and closer to the time Beomgyu said he would be picking her up. “Honestly.” Jiwon started, Y/N’s eyes wandered back to the screen to watch her friend take a sip of water before she spoke again. “You look hot, the pants really show off your body, in a good way.” Y/N’s cheeks flushed immediately, not being able to handle the compliment. “Stop…” Y/N whispered, her arms crossing to cover her waist. “What? It’s giving body,” Jiwon told her, “Come on give me a little pose,” Jiwon loved hyping Y/N up, she loved seeing the light in her eyes and how flustered she got, it made her feel like she was doing a good job at being a best friend. Y/N awkwardly placed a hand on her hip and then stuck her left leg out at an angle. “Okay, so, uhm… awesome. Next time I see you we’re gonna practice posing for photos because what the hell are you doing.” Jiwon shook her head with a soft laugh. Y/N covered her mouth as she began to quietly giggle at Jiwon’s words. She knew she looked silly, she always felt weird posing, it felt so unnatural to her. “So, if he asks to take a photo of you tonight, don’t do that. That smile was so forced,” Jiwon continued to laugh at her friend, not in a mean way. Jiwon would never purposely say something to upset Y/N, she knew her boundaries and this was just light teasing for the two. “Okay okay,” Y/N smiled at the phone, her lips curved naturally this time as she was enjoying Jiwon’s teasing. “That! That was perfect Y/N, remember to smile like that,” Jiwon clapped her hands together as she watched Y/N. “Jiwon, I doubt any pictures are going to be taken anyway… wouldn’t that be weird?” Y/N asked Jiwon in an unsure tone. “Why would that be weird? You’re on a cute date– I mean adventure… Don’t you want to remember it? Post it to Instagram?” Jiwon was so happy for Y/N, this is all she wanted for her best friend. 

Sometimes it felt like Y/N would never go on a date with someone, considering how shy and anxious she got around people. Y/N never really put herself out there. Jiwon had dreamed of the day where they would talk about boys and get ready for dates while on facetime. “I mean… I guess?” Y/N said unsure of her own response, was that normal? Did people take photos like that all the time? Y/N bit her lip as she thought about it more. New thoughts of insecurity sinking in. She didn’t want to look bad in the photos, she knew how awkward she could be, it was beginning to eat away at her. “Y/N,” Jiwon spoke, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. “Yeah?” She glanced at her phone. “You zoned out… I was wondering when Beomgyu was going to be there to pick you up?” Jiwon scooted closer to the camera her face right in front of it now. Y/N glanced at the time, “Oh crap, like in a few minutes.” Her heartbeat spiked as she began looking around her room to make sure she had everything she wanted to bring. “Okay don’t forget your scarf, gloves, wallet.” Jiwon began listing off things to help Y/N calm down, she could see how nervous Y/N was just by her jerky movements and shaky hands. Just as Y/N was pulling her jacket on a message popped up across the screen. Beomgyu: I’m here (:

“Oh god…” She repeated a few times. “He’s here,” Y/N's voice was a bit more high pitch now, due to the butterflies swirling about in her stomach. “Jiwon, he’s here. I love you, bye,” Y/N ended the call not even meaning to say farewell like that, she couldn’t think straight. “Oh gosh,” She said softly, grabbing her small bag that contained her wallet and lip balm. She grabbed her phone shoving it in her jacket’s pocket before sprinting down the stairs, forgetting her scarf and gloves on her messy bed. Her room was a disaster at this point, with clothes strewn everywhere from the outfits she’d tried on, and her makeup was scattered across the desk. She promised herself she’d clean it up when she got home later that night. Her eyes immediately fell on her father’s figure who stood at the window in the living room peering out at the street. Y/N ran over to the front door, slipping her shoes on. Her stepmother was in the kitchen washing the dishes. This was perfect, this meant her stepmother would have no idea about Beomgyu being outside. Y/N gave her father a quick wave and a weary smile. “Who–” Before her father could even finish asking his question Y/N was out the door. Her cheeks burned as she saw Beomgyu was already halfway up the steps, she stopped mid step as she looked into his warm eyes. “Hey,” He chuckled softly, a small friendly smile sat on his lips. Y/N took a deep breath before showing him an awkward soft smile, she slowly brought her hand up as if to say hey back. “I figured you didn’t see my text so I was going to knock,” He explained before stepping backward off the steps, with ease. Y/N nodded her head before following behind him, they walked in step to his car, and Beomgyu opened the passenger for her. She nodded her head to him to say thank you before she slid into the warm seat. Beomgyu rounded his car to get into the driver's seat. “Are you cold?” He asked glancing over at Y/N as he typed in the directions to the outdoor ice rink. Y/N shook her head, she was somewhat sweating due to her father almost answering the door. Her eyes fell to her shaky hands, she made the mindful effort to grab onto her sleeves to try and relax herself. Beomgyu turned on some music before he shifted the car into drive. The music was soft, but not drowned out by the engine of the car. He could tell that Y/N was nervous, so he wanted to try and comfort her as best as he could. He waited a few minutes before speaking so she could collect herself. He glanced at Y/N who was looking out the window of the car door. He took in her appearance, she looked beautiful as always, but he noticed a very subtle difference, she was wearing very light makeup. He couldn’t hide his smile, he liked seeing her like this, it was different.

“Have you ever been ice skating before?” Beomgyu asked, his eyes shifting from the road to Y/N. Y/N shook her head and pressed her lips together, feeling awkward, maybe she should’ve told him last night that she didn’t know how to skate. She didn’t want him to feel upset that he had to babysit her the whole time. “What?” He let out a breathy laugh, “There’s no way.” He turned his attention back to the road. Y/N gripped the sleeve of her jacket even tighter, trying to press the nerves away. “Don’t worry, I’ve been skating since I was like… ten… maybe?”  He wasn’t sure if he was a year or two off. Y/N raised her eyebrows slightly at his response, that was a long time. “I used to go skating with some of my old friends all the time, you’ll pick it up fast.” Beomgyu would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited about Y/N not knowing how to skate. It was a great excuse to stay close to her, hold her hand, and keep her from falling. This night was going perfectly for him so far. The rest of the ride was filled with Beomgyu telling Y/N stories, he figured he’d do what he’s best at and yap her ear off. He made sure to glance at her every so often to make sure he wasn’t boring her to death. To his surprise she was listening quite closely, her facial expressions were very responsive to what he was saying.

Once, Beomgyu shifted the car into park he glanced at Y/N with a huge smile. “Ready?” Y/N nodded shyly before grabbing her bag off the floor of the car. “Oh, don’t worry, you can leave your bag here. Tonight’s on me, plus I would feel better leaving your bag in here… I don’t trust those lockers sometimes.” Beomgyu said. Y/N was surprised by him, she quickly pulled her phone out and typed. Are you sure?? I don’t mind paying!

Beomgyu’s eyes fell onto her phone screen, the soft blue light hitting his face. “Please, don’t worry, I want to.” Y/N’s heart picked up once again. Her fingers hit the keyboard quickly. Thank you (: Beomgyu smiled softly at the message before he got out of the car, Y/N following his lead. She stayed in step with him but stayed slightly behind him as if he was like some safety shield for her anxiety. As they walked towards the counter Y/N realized she was going to have to let the worker know her shoe size. Y/N pulled her phone out once again and typed her shoe-sized down to show the worker, they were behind a few people so there was still a ton of time, but the nerves gnawed at her. She had to be prepared just in case. Beomgyu noticed her note prepared and smiled softly, he looked ahead and kept quiet. After a few moments, it was their turn. They both signed a waiver then Beomgyu spoke saying both sizes they needed, that way Y/N didn’t even need to show the woman at the counter her phone. Y/N glanced up at him feeling a bit surprised, it warmed her heart that he did that without even saying anything to her. She grabbed the pair of skates that the woman handed over to her, once Beomgyu received his they made their way over to a bench. Beomgyu was quick to switch over into skates, he opened the rental locker and threw his shoes in. He turned back towards Y/N who was still trying to tie her skates. “Here,” He spoke softly, he knelt down slightly and tied the skates for her, making sure they were tight enough.

Y/N’s eyes glanced around the area, looking at the people around them, wondering what they were thinking of her and Beomgyu. Did they think she looked stupid? Before she could let her negative thoughts spiral into something bigger, she shook her head and looked down at Beomgyu as he finished tying the skates. Beomgyu grabbed her shoes and threw them into the locker with his own, he made sure it was locked before shoving the key into his pocket. He took a deep breath trying to relax his own nerves, he slowly turned back to Y/N with a smile on his face. “Let’s go,” He held a hand out to her. Y/N glanced at his hand surprised by the gesture before her soft hand slipped into his, it fit perfectly. His warm hand wrapped around hers like it was a normal occurrence. She stood up on her feet with good balance.  “Walking to the ice is the easy part,” He said, guiding them to the rink. The ice rink was large, surrounded by the crisp evening air and the soft hum of cheerful chatter. A canopy of warm, golden string lights weaves around tall, wooden poles encircling the rink, casting a gentle glow that reflects off the smooth ice. The lights flicker softly, their golden hues blending with the deep night sky, where wisps of snow drift lazily from above.

Around the rink, festive winter decorations enhance the cozy, magical atmosphere. Garlands of pine branches, dusted with fresh snow, wrap around the poles alongside twinkling fairy lights. Festive red ribbons and bows are tied neatly along the railings, adding pops of color against the icy backdrop. Wooden crates filled with pine cones and frosted berries sit at intervals, giving the scene a rustic charm. 

Soft holiday music drifts from nearby speakers, mingling with the sound of skates gliding across the ice and the occasional laughter of skaters. Families, couples, and groups of friends move fluidly across the ice—some gracefully gliding, others stumbling and giggling as they hold onto each other for support. Beomgyu turned to face Y/N and took a backward step onto the ice, he did it with such ease, it was natural to him. He stood in place holding Y/N's hand still. He could tell she was feeling unsure about stepping onto the ice. “I promise I won’t let you fall,” He told her, his grip becoming a little more firm on her hand. Y/N nodded, she took a brave step onto the ice, it didn’t feel slippery yet. As soon as she placed her other foot onto the ice she lost her balance. Beomgyu couldn’t help but giggle as Y/N grabbed onto his forearm with her free hand. He kept his promise though and steadied her.

"Okay, okay, I got you," Beomgyu laughed more, steadying her by the waist as she clung onto his arm as if her life depended on it. "You're so tense—you gotta relax a little. If you keep locking your knees like that, you’re just gonna make it harder." Y/N gives him a panicked look, her feet felt like they were slipping slightly beneath her.

"Alright, the first thing you need to keep in mind is balance. Keep your weight centered, not too far forward or back. If you lean too much, you’ll—whoa—" Beomgyu quickly catches her as she wobbles, with a huge grin he pulls her closer to him. "Yeah, like that."

Y/N’s cheeks and neck flushed, she couldn’t breathe being pulled close to Beomgyu like this, his hands were all over her. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it wasn’t this, she would have never thought Beomgyu would have her pulled close like this.

Beomgyu brought his hands back up to Y/N’s small hands, and he held onto them gently. "Bend your knees just a little, don’t stiffen up. And when you move, think of it like... pushing off to the side, not straightforward. Like… watch." He smoothly glides backward, demonstrating effortlessly, he pulled her with him.

"See? Small pushes, one foot at a time. You try." Beomgyu encouraged with a sweet smile. Y/N glanced down at her feet and the ice before looking back up at Beomgyu, she shook her head no, she didn’t think she could do it. Her hands grip his tighter, and Beomgyu mindlessly brushed his thumbs across the back of her hands. "You can do it," he reassures, his voice softer now. "I'll go slow, I'll move with you. Just trust me."

With a deep breath and still holding onto him, Y/N hesitantly shifts her weight, attempting the smallest push. It's wobbly, but it works—kind of.

"There you go! See? Not so bad." Beomgyu’s grin is warm and encouraging. "You'll be skating circles around me in no time." 

It earns a soft, quiet giggle from Y/N, one of his new favorite sounds. Eventually, after guiding Y/N around the rink a few times, she managed to push herself forward—slowly, but surely. Beomgyu still held onto one of her hands, keeping them moving with his own steady momentum. “Wanna take a break? Maybe get some hot chocolate,” Beomgyu offered, Y/N was quick to nod, ready to enjoy something warm, she was a bit cold now.

Beomgyu nodded and led them toward the exit of the rink, he helped Y/N over to a bench before he went to a small stall to order hot chocolate for the both of them. While Beomgyu was gone, Y/N let herself sink into the moment, replaying everything that had happened tonight. It felt like a dream, like something out of a story she’d never imagined herself in. The way he held her close, the warmth of his hand never straying far from hers… it was starting to feel like a date, even if he hadn’t said it outright. Her thoughts didn’t linger long, Beomgyu was back in no time with two warm paper cups filled with hot chocolate. “Here,” He murmured, as he sat down next to her on the bench. Y/N accepted the cup with a small smile, the heat seeping into her fingers as she curled them around it.

Beomgyu’s free hand reached out, dusting the snow from her hair with gentle, absentminded touches. He took a sip of his drink, wincing slightly as the warmth stung his tongue. “Are you warm enough?” His voice was soft, laced with quiet concern. Y/N hesitated before offering a small shrug and slight nod as she tilted her head. Letting him know that she was somewhat cold. She took a sip of her drink before cradling it in both of her hands, warming her palms once more.

Beomgyu shifted beside her, his thigh brushing against hers. Without a word, he set his cup down and reached for the dark blue scarf wrapped snugly around his own neck. Y/N watched him, eyes curious as he pulled it off, his fingers working effortlessly. Without saying a word, he gently draped it over her, wrapping it carefully around her neck with slow, precise movements. His touch was light, almost hesitant, as he adjusted the fabric to make sure it sat comfortably. “This should keep you somewhat warm,” His fingers lingered for just a moment, smoothing over the soft wool before finally pulling away. Beomgyu was gazing at her with soft eyes, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. Y/N glanced up, realizing just how close their faces were—probably the closest they’d ever been. Her eyes flickered over his sharp features, taking in every detail, but it was his scent that overwhelmed her senses. It was soft yet vibrant, it wrapped around her like a cozy embrace. The rich, slightly tangy sweetness of pomegranate stood out first, fresh and bright, as if she had just broken open the fruit herself. Beneath it, delicate floral notes softened the edges, blending into something light and airy. With a light clear of his throat, Beomgyu decided to roll his shoulders back in an attempt to relax. He sat up more straight, and averted his gaze from hers, suddenly all too aware of how close they had been.

Before reaching for his hot chocolate again, his hand lifted to adjust the beanie on his head, tugging it down slightly. It was a small, nervous habit as he processed the lingering warmth of their proximity. The pair sat in comfortable silence as they finished their hot chocolate. Once again Y/N had Beomgyu tongue-tied, his mind scrambling for something to say, yet coming up empty. With a soft sigh, Beomgyu took one final sip of his drink before turning toward Y/N again. “Alright,” He had a playful glint in his eyes. “Think you can keep up with me now?”

Y/N quirked a brow at him, unimpressed by his tease. He stood up, holding out a hand for her. After a brief hesitation, Y/N placed her hand in his, letting him pull her to her feet. Before heading back to the rink Beomgyu threw their empty cups out. Once they were back at the entrance to the ice, Beomgyu let go of her hand and stepped down onto the ice, he adjusted himself so he was skating backward once more. It honestly impressed Y/N with how skillful he was on the ice. Beomgyu flashed her a teasing smile. “Maybe, we could race around the rink?” She gave him a nervous smile and a shake of the head, she wasn’t ready for that yet. She had only just gotten the hang of pushing off the ice, and only with Beomgyu right there beside her. “Come on, try getting on the ice by yourself this time,” He encouraged her.

Y/N's fingers gripped the edge of the barrier as she carefully placed one foot onto the ice. Taking a deep breath, she followed with the other foot, her hold on the barrier tightening as she wobbled slightly, trying to steady herself. “You’re gonna be pro in no time,” Beomgyu chuckled softly as he watched her struggle onto the ice. Y/N smiled softly, she was expecting him to grab a hold of her by now but Beomgyu had other plans. He slowly skated a few feet backward, he wanted her to try and skate to him without his help. “Skate to me,” He told her with a huge grin. “I know you can do it, just trust yourself.” Y/N glanced at the people skating by them, she felt a bit silly for not being able to skate, she felt like everyone’s eyes were on her. 

“You got this,” Beomgyu pulled her out of her thoughts. She nodded a few times before she slowly let go of the barrier. Beomgyu was probably five feet away, he wasn’t far whatsoever.

I can do this, she told herself as she pushed her foot against the ice like he had shown her to do.

Beomgyu watched proudly as she began to slowly skate towards him, he decided to take it a step further and began to slowly skate backward so she would have to skate further without him. He was close enough to her if he needed to jump in and keep her from falling. Y/N gasped softly as she saw him move away from her, she was so surprised that she had almost spoken, she had almost told him to stop, that she needed him. The feeling in her throat surprised her, she didn’t know what to think of it, it’s been a while since she’d felt this way with someone she hadn’t spoken to before. Just the thought of her speaking to him had her cheeks burning, she was glad that it was cold out so she could play it off as if the cold was making her cheeks turn color. As Beomgyu skated, his skate slid across the ice a certain way making him slip and fall onto his bum. A small laugh bubbled up in Y/N's chest as she saw him sitting on the ice, she let it escape her mouth as she saw Beomgyu looking up at her with a pout on his face. However, her laugh quickly faded as she realized Beomgyu never taught her how to stop. She wasn’t going fast, so it wasn’t dangerous, but she was heading straight for Beomgyu.

Beomgyu seemed to notice this as well, he tried to quickly stand up but he wasn’t fast enough. Y/N bent her knees more and leaned forward more than she needed to as she finally reached Beomgyu making her balance completely thrown off. Beomgyu decided the best thing to do was to catch her fall so their skates wouldn’t get tangled up, he didn’t want anyone getting hurt from the blades. She ended up falling toward him, her hands instinctively landing on his chest to catch herself.

To keep her from completely toppling over, Beomgyu reached out to steady her, grabbing her upper arms. Her knees gently hit the ice between his legs, but it wasn’t hard enough to cause any real pain.

Y/N’s ears went red, she gave him an apologetic look, but Beomgyu brushed it off with a smile, laughing softly. His carefree laughter made her giggle too, the tension of the fall disappearing as they both shared the moment.

“You okay?” He finally asked her, he slowly began to help the both of them to their feet.

Y/N nodded then pointed to him and gave him a thumbs up, asking if he was okay as well. “Yeah, I’m okay, my butt is a little wet from sitting on the ice but I’m okay,” He laughed, and his hand went back down to grab a hold of Y/N’s hand, it was a natural action, with no hesitation behind it. “Okay, I guess… let’s just skate together, I don’t want you getting hurt,” His voice was soft again. Y/N nodded, agreeing with Beomgyu. As the night went on, the two continued skating and having fun. At some point, Beomgyu made sure to snap a selfie with her, grinning as he held up his phone. He told her it was to commemorate her first time on the ice, but in reality, he just wanted a picture with her. He figured this was a pretty smooth way to do it without making things awkward. 

Once they were tired they returned the rental skates and made it back to Beomgyu’s car. “You learned a new skill today,” Beomgyu pointed out as he started his car. Y/N nodded her head, offering him a soft smile.

“Honestly, I must say you did really well for your first time,” He smiled back at her. She knew Beomgyu was just saying that to be nice but she appreciated the compliment anyway. Beomgyu turned on the music, keeping the volume low. Y/N noticed that Beomgyu always had to have some kind of noise around him. She didn’t mind though, she just found it interesting. Most of her peaceful moments were filled with silence meanwhile his were filled with the comfort of noise. He entered her address into the maps app before starting to drive toward her home. Like the ride to the ice rink, it was mainly filled with Beomgyu talking about whatever came to mind while Y/N listened to him, nodding here and there when he would glance at her. The ride felt shorter this time, she wished it wouldn’t end so soon. Being with Beomgyu was comforting, far better than facing what awaited her at home. The cold presence of her stepmother lingered in her mind, making her want to stay wrapped in the warmth of Beomgyu’s car just a little longer.

As Beomgyu pulled up in front of her house, Y/N felt a familiar heaviness settle in her chest. The warmth of the car, the quiet hum of the engine, and Beomgyu’s presence made it hard to step out into the cold night. She stared at the porch light glowing dimly, her fingers tightening slightly around the sleeve of her jacket. 

Beomgyu turned to her. “You okay?”

She hesitated, then nodded. But deep down, she wished she didn’t have to go inside just yet. Y/N pulled her phone out, the dim light casting across her face, she began to type a message. Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun (: Oh! And thank you for paying! A small smile appeared on Beomgyu’s face as he read the message. “Seriously, no problem, you don’t have to thank me.” Y/N let a soft smile form as she looked up at him. “I also had a really nice time with you though,” He paused for a moment, feeling a slight knot in his stomach. With a deep inhale he continued. “Maybe we could do this more often? Hanging out together outside of school?” A light pink tint appeared across his face but it was too dark in the car for Y/N to even notice it.

Y/N nodded her head a few times. 

“Cool, well… I’ll talk to you later then?” Beomgyu said with a soft tone, he was excited that she wanted to hang out more, he was trying to keep his cool. Y/N typed one last message to him, she turned her phone so he could read it. Good night (: get home safe!! It was a simple message but it was enough to warm his chest. Y/N grabbed her bag, before slipping out of his car. She turned and gave him a wave as she walked up to the front door of her home. Beomgyu made sure to sit there and make sure she made it inside before he pulled off. As soon as he was on the road, Beomgyu wasted no time connecting to a hands-free call with Taehyun. His excitement bubbled over, he had to talk about everything. “Hello?” Taehyun’s tired voice filled the car. “Taehyun, it was perfect.” Beomgyu had a huge grin on his face. Even in his drowsy state, Taehyun let out a chuckle. “Well… tell me about it.”

The drive back to Beomgyu’s dorm felt like it flew by as he couldn’t stop talking to Taehyun about the night. He went on and on about how fun ice skating was, how Y/N’s nervous laugh was the cutest thing he’d ever heard, and how they had hot chocolate.

At first, Taehyun was half-listening, his tiredness still lingering from a long day. But it didn’t take long for him to notice the shift in Beomgyu’s usual energy. His voice was still upbeat, but there was something extra in it—an almost nervous excitement that made it clear how much he’d enjoyed the night. He wasn’t just talking, he was gushing, like a kid telling a story he couldn’t wait to share.

“Man, you’re really into her, huh?” Taehyun said, sounding amused but not at all surprised. “I’ve never heard you talk this much about a girl before.”

Beomgyu paused, momentarily flustered. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he thought about how to respond. “I… I don’t know, it just felt... easy, you know? I was nervous at first, but once we started skating... it just felt like we were both in the moment.”

Taehyun raised an eyebrow, smirking to himself. “You guys looked pretty cute in that picture. Your scarf looks good on her, yeah?” Of course, Beomgyu sent his best friend the photo they had taken together. 

Beomgyu laughed, feeling heat creep up to his face. “I didn’t say that, but yeah, she looked... really cute." His grin spread wider, his mind replaying the way Y/N had looked up at him when he wrapped the scarf around her neck. It had felt like the whole world had paused for a second.

Taehyun, now fully awake, could hear the soft fondness in Beomgyu’s voice, and something told him this was more than just a casual crush. He could practically picture his friend’s goofy grin as he drove. “Look at you, man. You’re grinning like an idiot. I can hear it.”

Beomgyu couldn’t help it. “I... I guess I am,” he admitted, his smile softening as he thought about Y/N again. “I don’t know what it is, but it feels different with her. I want to see her again. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Taehyun was quiet for a moment as if weighing his friend’s words. “Well, that’s a good thing, right? Just don’t overthink it, man. If she’s the one you’re thinking about, then you’re on the right path.”

Beomgyu’s grip loosened slightly on the steering wheel, his heart lighter. "Yeah... I think so." He sighed softly.

The next afternoon, Y/N sat at her desk, her fingers gliding over the smooth surface of her sketchbook as she absentmindedly shaded a drawing. Her phone, propped against a candle jar, displayed Jiwon’s face—bright-eyed and animated as she recounted the details of Y/N’s night with Beomgyu for what felt like the tenth time.

“Girl, I told you a picture would be taken. And thank God you didn’t do that forced smile thing,” Jiwon teased, her eyes flicking to the ice rink photo on her screen. A grin spread across her face. “Ugh, you guys look so cute together. I’m so happy.”

Y/N paused mid-shading, her grip tightening slightly around her pencil. “Jiwon… it wasn’t a date,” she muttered, though even as she said it, something in her chest fluttered.

Jiwon let out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically flopping back onto her pillows. “Yeah, yeah… you keep telling yourself that.”

“He never called it a date,” Y/N insisted, her pencil moving in slow, careful strokes as she focused on the sketch. It was easier to concentrate on the lines than to acknowledge the warmth creeping up her neck.

Jiwon hummed knowingly. “Maybe not. But let’s be real, would a guy who doesn’t like you give you his scarf and look at you like that?”

Y/N swallowed, her eyes flickering to the scarf still resting at the foot of her bed. She hadn’t meant to keep it there. She had meant to return it, maybe fold it neatly in her bag for when she saw Beomgyu next. But last night, when she got home, she had hesitated—her fingers brushing over the soft fabric, the faintest scent of his cologne still clinging to it. And now, it was just… there. A quiet reminder of him.

Her lips twitched into a small, unbidden smile. “It was really sweet of him,” she admitted softly, her voice carrying the weight of something unspoken.

Jiwon gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. You’re so whipped.”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her cheeks instantly burning. “I am not,” she denied, far too quickly.

Jiwon grinned like a cat who had just caught a mouse. “Mmm. Right. And that’s why you’re staring at his scarf like it’s some kind of sacred relic?”

Y/N immediately turned back to her sketchbook, willing herself to ignore the giddy feeling in her chest. “I was just… thinking about how nice he is,” she muttered, but even she wasn’t convinced by her own words.

Jiwon smirked. “And how cute he is?”

Y/N still refused to look up, but she could hear the smirk in Jiwon’s voice, and it made her want to sink into the floor.

“So,” Jiwon continued, twirling a strand of her hair lazily around her finger. “When are you seeing him again?”

Y/N shrugged, pretending to be unaffected. “Probably at school.”

Jiwon hummed in response.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment, Jiwon lounging on her bed while Y/N focused on her sketch, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

“So,” Jiwon said, breaking the quiet, “what are you sketching over there?”

Y/N hesitated for half a second—too long.

“Oh, it’s nothing really…” she said quickly, too quickly. She lowered her head, her fingers fidgeting against the edge of the paper. She didn’t dare meet Jiwon’s gaze.

Jiwon narrowed her eyes. “It’s not nothing. Show me.”

Y/N clutched her sketchbook tighter. “Just doodling some animals. Nothing special.” She avoided eye contact, but the way her fingers hovered protectively over the page gave her away.

Jiwon’s smirk widened. “Come on, please! I won’t judge.”

Y/N shook her head furiously, but Jiwon had the patience of a saint and the persistence of a menace.

“You know I won’t leave you alone until you show me.”

With a dramatic sigh, Y/N reluctantly lifted her sketchbook, her stomach twisting into knots. She barely peeked at Jiwon’s reaction, her whole body burning with embarrassment.

Jiwon’s breath hitched. “Oh my god… Y/N. You’re sketching him?”

Y/N immediately lowered the sketchbook, gripping it tightly against her lap as if that could somehow erase what just happened. “I didn’t mean to,” she mumbled, her voice small. “It just… happened.”

Jiwon was silent for a second before she burst into laughter, her voice teasing but warm. “Oh my god, you have such a big crush on him. You literally sketched him. He’s stuck in your head!”

Y/N’s gaze stayed glued to the page, her fingers tightening around the pencil. She knew Jiwon was just teasing, but the words struck a different kind of nerve.

Because it was true.

No matter how much she tried to push it down, to reason with herself, to tell herself this was just another fleeting crush—Beomgyu was there. In the quiet moments. In the way her heart stuttered whenever she thought about his stupid, lopsided grin. In the warmth of his scarf wrapped around her. In the gentle way he spoke to her, like he saw her.

And that scared her.

She had been here before. Letting someone in, getting too comfortable, only to end up hurt in the end. The realization settled in her chest like a weight, her grip tightening around the sketchbook.

Jiwon, observant, caught the subtle shift in her demeanor. Her laughter faded slightly, replaced with something softer. “Hey…” she said gently, her voice careful. “You okay?”

Y/N forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Jiwon studied her for a moment before nodding. “Just don’t overthink yourself into a hole, okay? Beomgyu’s not like that.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes flickering back to the sketch. She wanted to believe that.

She really did.

But the fear still lingered, unshakable. Would he prove her wrong? Or would this end like all the others? For now, she didn’t have an answer. Before the conversation could continue, a soft knock tapped against her bedroom door. Panic flared in Y/N’s chest like a struck match. Without thinking, she flipped her sketchbook to a blank page, the pencil nearly slipping from her fingers. Her grip tightened around her phone. “I gotta go,” she whispered hurriedly, ending the call before Jiwon could respond. She set the phone down carefully, as if pretending nothing had happened would erase any evidence of it.

The silence that followed made her pulse race. She didn’t speak, but after a moment, the door creaked open, and her father peeked his head inside. His expression was hesitant, searching. When he spotted her sitting at her desk, he stepped in, closing the door softly behind him.

“Hey,” he said gently.

Y/N glanced up at him, offering a small, cautious smile. She wasn’t sure why he was here, but she waited, hands resting stiffly on her lap, her fingers twitching slightly. The air between them was quiet, uncertain.

“I just wanted to check in on you,” he said after a beat, his voice careful, like he was afraid of overstepping. “You rushed out of the house yesterday.”

Her chest tightened slightly. She had. And she hadn’t looked back.

As her father’s gaze drifted toward her desk, something else caught his attention. A paper, slightly off to the side, where the bright red 100% stood out against the crisp white page. A test. Multiple-choice answers were sloppily circled.

His brows lifted. “Hey, 100?” He stepped closer, picking up the paper to look at it properly. “That’s awesome.”

A flicker of warmth spread through her. Y/N ducked her head slightly, a shy smile tugging at her lips. Moments like this—when it was just them, without the tension of her stepmother’s presence—were rare. She wished they weren’t. She wished she could talk to him more, let him into her world the way she used to when she was younger. But she didn’t know how anymore.

“Did you have a good time last night?” he asked, his voice casual, but his stance betrayed him. He shifted slightly, hands in his pockets, the way he always did when he felt awkward.

Y/N gave him a small nod, her eyes dropping back to the blank page of her sketchbook.

Her father hesitated, then added, “He seemed like a nice guy.”

Y/N stiffened. Her fingers clenched slightly against the edge of her desk, and a grimace flickered across her face before she could stop it. This—this—was the last thing she wanted to talk about with her dad. It was hard enough processing it with Jiwon teasing her about it.

“Okay… okay, I’ll leave it,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. There was the faintest trace of amusement in his voice, but he let it go. “Just wanted to make sure you had a nice night.”

She pressed her lips together into an awkward smile, glancing up at him briefly.

A beat of silence.

Then, in a quieter voice, he said, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Y/N’s head lifted in surprise.

“For getting out there,” he continued, his tone sincere. “I know it’s not easy for you.” He gave her shoulder a gentle pat, something warm and steady in the gesture, before turning toward the door.

Y/N watched him go, her chest tightening—not in anxiety this time, but in something softer. Warmer.

She barely heard the door click shut before she exhaled, sinking back into her chair. The words settled inside her, wrapping around the parts of her that often felt unseen.

I’m proud of you.

Her gaze lingered on the empty doorway for a few more seconds, soaking in the quiet comfort of the moment.

Then, finally, she turned back to her desk. Without hesitation, she reached for her phone and pulled up the ice rink photo.

Jiwon was right. Beomgyu had been lingering in her thoughts long after the night had ended. She turned back to the sketch of Beomgyu.

Her fingers moved instinctively, pencil gliding across the page, sketching out the curve of his smile, the messy strands of his hair that fell into his eyes. But no matter how much detail she added—the softness of his features, the light in his gaze—she knew it wasn’t enough.

Her art could never quite capture how beautiful he actually was. But still, she kept drawing.

Because if she couldn’t say it out loud, at least she could pour it into something real. Something she could hold in her hands.Something just for herself.

A few hours had passed, Y/N was now at the café, working through her shift. Today, the schedule was overstaffed, which usually meant one thing for her—cleaning duty. It wasn’t that she minded tidying up; in fact, she liked keeping things in order. But days like this always made her feel a little out of place. While her coworkers huddled behind the counter, laughing and chatting freely, she scrubbed surfaces and organized supplies, an outsider in the very place she worked.

They weren’t mean to her. They acknowledged her presence and smiled in passing, but they never truly included her. Every time she finished a task, another would be handed to her without question, as if her silence made her the default choice for the grunt work. It wasn’t their fault, she supposed. It was easier this way—for everyone. Still, she couldn’t help but wish they’d talk to her the way they talked to each other.

At least there was Hajoon. He was different from the others, always making an effort to ensure she was comfortable. He didn’t just give her tasks—he showed her how to do things, explained the ins and outs of the café, and most importantly, treated her like she was part of the team. She was grateful for him.

With a quiet sigh, Y/N wiped down the large café windows, watching as her coworkers joked around at the register. The glass gleamed under her touch, reflecting the warm glow of the café lights. She was exhausted, her arms aching from the repetitive motion. She just wanted to go home, curl up in bed, and disappear into the comfort of her favorite drama.

The chime of the front door startled her from her thoughts. She turned,  her heart stuttered at the sight. It was Beomgyu, Taehyun following behind him.

Her grip on the cloth tightened instinctively. The moment Beomgyu spotted her, he grinned, his entire face lighting up. He raised a hand in an enthusiastic wave before heading to the counter with Taehyun to order.

Y/N hesitated, debating whether she should go over and greet them, but instead, she remained rooted in place, forcing herself to focus on her task. She stole quick glances their way, watching as they laughed and chatted while waiting for their drinks. Beomgyu looked so effortlessly comfortable, so naturally vibrant, that it made her chest ache.

Once they had their drinks, the two of them didn’t head to an open table near the back like she expected. The two men sat at the one closest to where she was cleaning. Her stomach flipped.

“Hey,” Beomgyu greeted her with a smile, his voice warm and familiar.

Taehyun gave her a small nod in greeting, his expression soft.

Y/N swallowed and lifted a hand in a small wave. Then, remembering something, she held up a finger, silently asking them to wait a moment before slipping behind the counter. She dug through her bag, fingers brushing against the soft fabric, and pulled out Beomgyu’s scarf. She had neatly folded it before her shift, making sure it stayed clean. As she returned to their table, she hesitated for just a second before holding it out to him.

Beomgyu blinked, momentarily surprised. “Oh… wait, did you bring your own scarf today then?”

Y/N shook her head.

Beomgyu frowned, then, with a stubborn grin, pushed the scarf back toward her. “Then keep it again. I’m fine without it.”

Taehyun, who had been silently watching, exhaled through his nose and rolled his eyes. He saw right through Beomgyu’s act. He wasn’t just lending her the scarf—he wanted her to have something of his. A quiet, thoughtful gesture. But Taehyun knew Beomgyu well enough to recognize that he wasn’t going to admit it.

Y/N tilted her head, questioning if he was sure.

Beomgyu nodded. “We were thirsty, so I figured we’d stop by and see you.”

Something warm spread in her chest, that new feeling that she began to welcome instead of shy away from it. She pulled out her phone, fingers tapping quickly across the screen.

How are you guys?

Beomgyu glanced at her screen and smiled. “We’re good. Had a lazy Sunday, honestly.”

From the counter, two of her coworkers watched with mild curiosity. They had never seen Y/N interact like this before. To them, she had always been quiet, isolated. But here she was, engaging—laughing silently, typing responses, exchanging glances filled with an ease they had never witnessed. One of the girls, Juha, tapped a finger against the counter, making a mental note. Maybe they had been wrong to assume she didn’t want to be included.

Back at the table, Beomgyu suddenly leaned forward. “Oh, hey… next weekend, there’s gonna be this party. Did you maybe want to come?” He bit his lip slightly, his gaze searching hers. “No pressure, I just thought you could meet some more of my friends.”

Y/N froze.

A party.

Her mind immediately conjured images of crowded rooms, loud music, and unfamiliar faces pressing in on her. The thought alone made her hands clam up. She’d never been to a college party before—what if it was too much? What if she got overwhelmed? What if people expected her to talk? Was it like what she saw in movies? 

Before she could respond, Taehyun cut in. “Wait, that’s not next weekend.”

Beomgyu frowned. “What? Dude, yeah it is.”

“No. It’s not. Check the group chat.” 

Beomgyu sighed, pulling out his phone to scroll through his messages. His lips pressed together when he saw Taehyun was right. Taehyun chuckled, a smug smile sat on his face.

“Well,” Beomgyu looked back up at her with an easy grin, “not this upcoming weekend, but the one after. So I guess you’ll have more time to think about it.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, relieved for the extra time but still uncertain. She wanted to go, she wanted to say yes. But she wasn’t sure if she could handle it, this was something way too out of her comfort zone.

“But uh, if you’re not working this upcoming weekend, maybe we could still hang out?” Beomgyu continued, shifting slightly. “Maybe a movie at my place?”

Y/N hesitated, then quickly checked her work schedule. She turned her phone to show him, her shift ended late on Saturday.

“8:30 too late for you to come over?” Beomgyu asked.

She shook her head.

“Perfect. It’s a date then.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Both of them stiffened.

Y/N felt her entire face heat up. Her brain short-circuited. Date?

Beomgyu’s eyes widened as realization dawned, his expression morphing into pure panic. “I mean—uh—hangout? Not a date. Or—” He groaned, rubbing his temples. “Oh my god.”

Taehyun let out a quiet, suffering sigh. “Wow. That was painful.”

Beomgyu opened his mouth to dig himself into a deeper hole, but Y/N quickly typed out a response, her hands trembling slightly.

Sounds fun! I’d like to watch a movie (: Don’t sweat it!!

Beomgyu read her message and let out a breath. “Perfect. I’ll text you later about it.”

Before they could say more, her coworker called her name. Y/N shot Beomgyu and Taehyun a small wave before disappearing to the back. They needed her to handle a few things in the back of the store before her shift ended. 

The moment she was gone, Taehyun turned to Beomgyu, deadpan. He couldn’t believe his best friend.  “Dude. That was awful.”

Beomgyu groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I know.”

“But,” Taehyun shifted in his seat, a slight smirk appeared, before he took a sip of his drink, “she still said yes.” Y/N stepped into the storage room, the air cooler and quieter than the café outside. She set down Beomgyu’s scarf on a nearby shelf and ran her hands over her warm cheeks, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

A date.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the first box of supplies, stacking cups into their designated spot. The word played on repeat in her mind, making her stomach twist in nervous knots. Beomgyu hadn’t even meant to say it, that much was clear from how flustered he got afterward—but still, the thought of it sent a rush of heat down her spine.

But suddenly her thoughts began to wander toward the party.

Her hands slowed as she tried to picture it. Conversations she wouldn’t be able to escape from. Would Beomgyu stay by her side the whole time? Would she even belong there?

She swallowed hard and focused back on sorting the lids and straws. It wasn’t like she had to say yes. She could just not go, save herself from embarrassment. 

But the way Beomgyu had looked at her, the hopeful smile on his face, the one that made her chest tighten. She liked spending time with him. Even now, just knowing he had come here to see her made her feel lighter.

Her hands found the soft fabric of his scarf, still resting on the shelf beside her. She clenched it gently, then exhaled, trying to push away the doubts clouding her mind.

One thing at a time, she told herself. The hangout was first. Just a movie, something familiar and safe. She could handle that. As for the party… well, she had time to think about it.

✧ taglist: @brrytears @tubasmiracle @sseishiross @dalkom-han

[harrysfolklore]

christ-max -mv1

summary: you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion. wc: 5.8k

folkie radio: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOUUUU! i hope you're having the best day ever with your loves ones. this fic ended up being longer than i intended but i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You're nestled into Max's side on his couch, wrapped in the soft throw blanket he keeps specifically for these quiet moments together. The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Monaco apartment, casting a glow across the room. Your feet are tucked under you, and you can smell the lingering scent of the coffee you both made earlier.

The Netflix show you'd put on - some random documentary about deep-sea creatures - has become mere background noise. Max's fingers are threading through your hair in that gentle way that always makes you melt, occasionally stopping to massage your scalp. .

"I can't believe the season's actually over," you murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Feels weird not having to plan around race weekends anymore."

Max chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rests. "Yeah, but now we have to plan around all the end-of-year events instead. Did you see how many galas and ceremonies are coming up?"

"At least those don't involve you flying halfway across the world," you tease, tilting your head to look up at him. His hair is slightly messy, free from its usual styling, and you resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers through it.

"True," he agrees, then glances at his phone on the coffee table. "Speaking of events, I can't believe it's already December. Christmas is going to be here before we know it. Guess time flies when you're busy winning championships."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the opening you've been waiting for. You've been thinking about this for weeks, planning how to bring it up. "Actually… I wanted to ask you something about Christmas," you start, sitting up slightly to face him better.

Max's blue eyes meet yours, curious. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…" you bite your lip, suddenly feeling nervous despite knowing there's no reason to be. "I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas with me and my family this year? I know we've kept things private, but I really want them to meet you, and-"

"Wait, really?" Max interrupts, his whole face lighting up with that boyish excitement that made you fall for him in the first place. "You want me to meet your family?"

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course I do. We've been together almost a year now, and they keep asking why I'm always smiling at my phone." You playfully poke his side. "Which is your fault, by the way."

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers. "My fault? I'm just being my naturally charming self," he grins, then his expression turns slightly more serious. "But are you sure? I mean, won't they be surprised when you show up with, well…"

"With a four-time World Champion?" you finish for him, laughing. "Actually, my dad might pass out. He's been watching F1 since before I was born. He has no idea I've been dating his favorite driver."

Max's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm his favorite driver?"

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn playfully. "But yeah, he's got your merchandise and everything. It's actually kind of embarrassing how much he talks about you during race weekends."

Max throws his head back laughing, and you can't help but join in. "Oh God, this is going to be interesting," he says, wiping at his eyes. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, Mom will probably try to feed you until you burst - she's like that with everyone. And my little sister Ruby, she's seven and she's going to have so many questions. She's in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything."

"I can handle questions," Max says confidently, then hesitates. "What kind of questions are we talking about?"

You pretend to think about it. "Oh, you know, probably things like 'How fast have you ever driven?' 'Have you ever crashed?' 'Do you want to marry my sister?'"

Max nearly chokes on air at the last one, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "You're joking, right?"

"About Ruby? Nope, she has absolutely no filter," you laugh, then soften your voice. "But seriously, they're going to love you. Just be yourself - the you I know, not the racing driver everyone else sees."

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'd love to spend Christmas with your family. I can't wait to meet them." He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Should I wear my race suit when I meet your dad?"

You swat his arm, laughing. "Don't you dare! He'll actually faint." You settle back against his chest, feeling warm and content. "Thank you for saying yes. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for asking me," he murmurs into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling as his arms tighten around you. The documentary continues playing, forgotten again as you both start planning for Christmas, trading ideas and jokes about how to break the news to your family.

You're sitting cross-legged on Max's bed while he's in the shower, your phone propped up against a pillow as you FaceTime your family. Your mom's face fills most of the screen, with your dad peering over her shoulder and little Ruby bouncing around trying to get a better view.

"Honey, we can barely see you. The lighting is terrible," your mom critiques, and you adjust your position slightly.

"Better?"

"Much better! Now, what's this important thing you wanted to tell us about Christmas?" Your mom asks, while Ruby shouts "Is it presents?" in the background.

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your smile. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me this year… my boyfriend."

There's an immediate explosion of excitement. Ruby starts jumping up and down, your mom gasps dramatically, and your dad's eyebrows shoot up with interest.

"Finally!" your mom exclaims. "We've been wondering when you'd introduce him. You've been so secretive about this boyfriend of yours."

"What's his name?" Ruby pipes up, her face suddenly taking up half the screen as she pushes closer to the camera. "Is he nice? Does he like Disney movies?"

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, Rubes, he's very nice. And his name is…" you pause, knowing what's coming. "Max. Max Verstappen."

There's a moment of silence before your dad bursts out laughing. "Good one, sweetheart. Now, what's his real name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm dating Max Verstappen."

Your mom is trying to hold back her laughter now too. "Honey, isn't that the racing driver you and your father are always watching? The one your dad has all those caps and shirts of?"

"Yes, and I'm actually dating him," you insist, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Ruby's face scrunches up in confusion. "The fast car man? From TV?"

"The very same one, Rubes."

Your dad wipes tears from his eyes. "Come on now, what's next? Are you going to tell us you're best friends with Lewis Hamilton too?"

"Dad!" you groan, running a hand over your face. "I'm being serious! We've been dating for almost a year. I'm literally at his place right now!"

"In Monaco?" your dad asks skeptically. "Prove it."

You swing your phone around to show the familiar view of Monaco through the windows, but your dad just shakes his head. "Could be any apartment in Monaco."

"You're impossible!" you huff. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see at Christmas."

Ruby presses her face closer to the screen again. "Will he bring his race car?"

"No, Rubes, he can't bring the race car," you say, softening your tone for your little sister. "But I promise you'll love him."

After a few more minutes of your family teasing you about your "imaginary Formula 1 driver boyfriend," you end the call with a mix of frustration and amusement. Just as you flop back onto the bed, you hear the bathroom door open and Max walks out, his hair still damp from the shower.

"How'd it go?" he asks, noticing your expression.

You let out a laugh. "They think I'm making you up. They literally don't believe I'm dating you."

Max raises his eyebrows, looking amused as he sits next to you on the bed. "Really?"

"Really. Dad laughed so hard he nearly cried. And Ruby, my little sister, just wants to know if you're bringing your race car for Christmas."

"Sorry to disappoint Ruby," he grins, then looks thoughtful. "You know, maybe we should've waited to tell them in person. The looks on their faces would've been priceless."

"Oh, don't worry," you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They'll still be priceless. Dad's going to lose it when he realizes all those times he was rambling about you during races, he was actually talking about his daughter's boyfriend."

Max laughs, pulling you closer. "What else should I know before meeting them?"

"Well, Ruby's seven and obsessed with Frozen. She'll definitely make you watch it and probably sing along too."

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

Max's eyes widen slightly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

You kiss his cheek. "Too late to back out now, Verstappen. You're stuck with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmurs, pulling you in for a proper kiss. "Even if it means playing Olaf the snowman."

"Oh no, you'll definitely be playing Elsa. Ruby's very particular about casting."

The look of horror on his face makes you burst out laughing, and soon he's joining in too. As your laughter dies down, you can't help but think about how perfect this feels - being here with him, planning to spend Christmas with your family, even if they don't believe you yet. You can't wait to see their faces when you show up at their door with Max Verstappen himself.

"Hey," Max says softly, breaking into your thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about how Christmas is going to be interesting this year."

"Interesting is one way to put it," he grins. "Should I wear my race suit when we arrive?"

"Don't you dare! Dad will actually faint."

"That's kind of the point," he winks, and you grab a pillow to hit him with, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

"Let me guess, another text from 'Max Verstappen'?" your dad teases from his spot at the kitchen counter, making air quotes with his fingers. He's wearing one of his many Red Bull Racing shirts, completely oblivious to the irony.

"Actually, yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "He'll be here soon."

Your mom chuckles while peeling potatoes. "Honey, you can just tell us who your boyfriend really is. We won't judge, even if he's not a Formula 1 champion."

"Mom, I've told you a million times-"

"LOOK!" Ruby crashes into the kitchen, pointing at the TV in the living room where they're showing highlights from the last race. "It's YN's boyfriend!" She dissolves into giggles, clearly in on what she thinks is a funny joke.

"Very funny, Rubes," you mutter, but check your phone again when it buzzes.

Max: "Just turned onto your street. Nice neighborhood 😉"

Your heart starts beating faster. "He's here," you announce, heading toward the front door.

"Oh, we're still doing this?" your dad calls after you, amused. "Should I get my Max Verstappen cap for him to sign?"

"Actually, Dad, yes, you should," you shout back, slipping on your boots.

"Sweetie," your mom starts in that gentle voice she uses when she thinks you're being ridiculous, "you don't have to-"

The sound of a car pulling up interrupts her. You open the front door and step out onto the porch, watching as Max's car comes to a stop in your driveway. Your family has crowded behind you in the doorway, probably expecting to catch you in your "lie."

Max steps out of the car, looking unfairly handsome in his dark winter coat and scarf. His face lights up when he sees you, and you don't hesitate to run down the steps toward him.

"Hi," he grins, catching you in a tight hug and lifting you slightly off your feet. "Missed you."

You hear a loud gasp behind you, followed by what sounds like your dad choking on air.

"Missed you too," you murmur against his chest before turning to face your family, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist.

The scene on your front porch is priceless. Your dad's mouth is hanging open, his face pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. Your mom has both hands pressed to her face in shock. Ruby is the only one moving, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"IT REALLY IS THE FAST CAR MAN!" she shrieks, breaking the silence as she barrels down the steps toward you both.

Max laughs, crouching down to her level. "Hi Ruby. Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me a lot about you."

"You're real!" she exclaims, poking his arm as if to make sure.

"Very real," he confirms, looking thoroughly amused.

"I… you… but…" your dad stammers, still frozen in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. LN," Max says, standing back up and guiding you and Ruby toward the porch. "Thank you for having me for Christmas."

Your mom seems to snap out of her shock first. "Oh my goodness, please come in! It's freezing out here. I… oh dear… the potatoes… I should… more food… I need to…"

"Mom, breathe," you laugh, as Max follows you inside.

Your dad hasn't moved an inch, still staring at Max like he's seeing a ghost. "You're… you're actually… the Brazil overtake…"

"Dad, no F1 talk yet!" you warn. "Let him at least get his coat off first."

"Right! Yes! Coat!" your dad says frantically. "I'll take your coat! And then maybe… could you… would you mind signing my…"

"Collection?" you finish for him, smirking. "The one you thought I was making up?"

Max raises his eyebrows at you, remembering your conversation about your dad's merchandise collection.

Ruby tugs on Max's hand. "Do you want to see my Frozen dolls? And can we watch the movie? Sissy said you've never seen it!"

"Ruby, let him settle in first," your mom calls from the kitchen, where she appears to be panic-cooking. "Oh God, is the food good enough? Do Formula 1 drivers have special diets? Should I-"

"Mom, the food will be perfect," you assure her, then turn to Max. "See? I told you they'd be cool about it."

Max tries to suppress his laugh as your dad continues to stare at him in awe, your mom stress-cooks enough food to feed an army, and Ruby continues pulling on his hand.

"Very cool," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Though I think your dad might need to sit down."

"I'm fine!" your dad squeaks, then immediately sits down heavily on the nearest chair. "Just… just give me a minute to process that my daughter is actually dating Max Verstappen and I've been accidentally talking about my future son-in-law during every race and-"

"DAD!" you exclaim, feeling your face heat up while Max chuckles beside you.

"What? I'm just saying… all those times I said 'that Verstappen boy would make someone a good husband someday' and it turns out-"

"Okay!" you interrupt loudly. "Who wants coffee? Max, come help me with coffee!"

As you drag a laughing Max toward the kitchen, you hear Ruby start explaining the entire plot of Frozen to him, your mom muttering about needing to buy more food, and your dad still talking to himself about racing statistics.

"Still think this was a good idea?" you whisper to Max.

He pulls you closer, grinning. "The best. Though you might want to tell your dad to breathe before he passes out."

"Can we build a snowman after coffee?" Ruby calls out.

"Only if Max gets to be Elsa!" you shout back, earning you a playful glare from your boyfriend.

Looking around at your slightly chaotic but loving family, and seeing how naturally Max fits into it all, you can't help but smile. This is definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

The initial chaos has settled into a cozy scene in your living room. You're curled up on the couch next to Max, who has Ruby practically attached to his side. She hasn't stopped talking since everyone sat down, and Max, to his credit, is giving her his complete attention.

"And then Elsa makes this huge ice castle," Ruby explains, using elaborate hand gestures. "Can you drive as fast as Elsa runs up the mountain?"

"Probably faster," Max answers with a grin, making Ruby's eyes widen.

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

Your dad, who's finally regained his ability to form complete sentences, sits in his armchair trying very hard not to bombard Max with racing questions. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it again when you give him a warning look.

"It's okay, Dad," you laugh. "You can ask him one race question. Just one."

Your dad looks like he might cry from happiness. "The overtake in Brazil-"

"Which one?" Max asks with a playful smirk, and your dad launches into an enthusiastic discussion about racing lines and grip levels.

Your mom returns from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies, having finally accepted that she doesn't need to cook enough food for an entire F1 paddock. "Here we go. I hope it's okay, Max. YN mentioned you like hot chocolate."

"It's perfect, thank you," Max says warmly, accepting a mug.

Ruby immediately reaches for a cookie, then pauses. "Do race car drivers eat cookies?"

"Only the fast ones," Max whispers conspiratorially, making her giggle.

"Ruby, give Max some space to breathe," your mom says gently, noticing how your sister is practically in his lap.

"It's fine," Max assures her. "I have nephews. I'm used to it."

Ruby beams at this information. "Really? Do they like Frozen too?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'd love to hear your explanation of it," he says, and Ruby launches into another detailed plot summary.

You catch your mom watching the interaction with soft eyes, all her earlier panic forgotten. She meets your gaze and mouths 'He's wonderful' when Ruby isn't looking.

Your dad has moved on from Brazil to discussing tire strategies, but stops himself mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you. You live this stuff."

"Not at all," Max says sincerely. "It's nice talking about it with someone who understands racing. YN usually just tells me to stop being a nerd when I talk about tire compounds."

"Because you spent two hours explaining the difference between C3 and C4 compounds!" you defend yourself.

"It's fascinating stuff," your dad says eagerly, and Max nods in agreement.

"Oh no, there's two of them now," you mutter to your mom, who laughs.

Ruby tugs on Max's sleeve. "Can we watch Frozen now? Please? You promised!"

"Ruby, let Max rest a bit," your mom starts, but Max shakes his head.

"A promise is a promise," he says solemnly to Ruby. "Should we watch it now?"

Ruby squeals with delight, jumping up to get the remote. Your dad looks slightly disappointed that his racing talk is being cut short, but you can see him hiding a smile at Ruby's excitement.

"Fair warning," you whisper to Max as Ruby sets up the movie, "she knows every word. And she will sing along."

"As long as she doesn't expect me to sing," he whispers back.

"MAX!" Ruby calls, patting the spot next to her on the floor where she's arranged pillows. "You have to sit here! It's the best spot!"

Max obliges, settling down next to her while you stay on the couch, exchanging amused looks with your parents as Ruby starts the movie, already mouthing along to the opening music.

Your mom leans over to you. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you," she whispers. "He's lovely. And so good with Ruby."

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.