#of course I heard of him and thank you for the ask to remind me of him

[dontforgetukraine]

"My head is rolling..." by Maksym Kryvtsov

Translation by Lyudmyla Khersonska

My head is rolling from a treeline to a treeline like a tumbleweed or a ball my ripped arms will grow into violets in spring cats and dogs will drag my legs away my blood will paint the world new Pantone human blood red my bones will sink into the ground to form a skeleton my punctured gun will rust poor little buddy new recruits will receive my things and my fatigues roll on the spring so that I could give rise to violets

[mortalityplays]

talking about impenetrable accents/dialect just reminded me. when I was in Milan a couple of years back I was staying in this little rathole hotel and I had the biggest fucking migraine, so I was like non c'è problema I'll just go buy painkillers. of course every pharmacy on the map in a three block radius was closed, so my stupid ass just starts wandering around trying to figure out on the fly if you can get OTC from supermarkets in italy.

I walk into this little everything store (to my foreign eyes the kind of place that back home could sell you a bunch of carrots, a 6-pack of beer, pantyhose, bleach and a screwdriver set) and I see some household basics in the back but not what I need. with the confidence of a person who is only in the city for 3 days because he got bored and packed a bag and booked the cheapest flight available the week before (<= MENTAL ILLNESS), I was like no worries I know some italian, I can just ask.

I grab a bottle of water, walk up to the counter, and I'm like Ciao, hai il paracetamolo? And the guy is like che, and I'm like paracetamolo. Per la mia testa. And he's like che?

This is where I would have said 'aspirina' except I can't take aspirin for medical reasons, or 'antidolorifico' except I don't know that word and I've got no phone data for google translate and also I'm stupid. So in my fucked up leith-glasgow-italian accent I'm like paaa-ra-cetta-mollll-ooo. He's like ohhh bene, bene, and he calls another guy out of the back and asks him to go get something. Other guy then walks out of the store into the street, and before I can be like hey, che la fuck, he comes back and hands me a huge bundle of herbs.

At this point I'm like okay this entire interaction has been a bust, but these guys have been very nice and patient and they're both smiling happily at me because they've been of service, so I'm like ahh perfetto, grazie, pay them a couple of euros and leave.

EVENTUALLY I find a pharmacy that's open, and my head is fucking killing me, and my phone still isn't connecting, and now I have this small shrubbery poking out of my coat pocket, so I don't even bother looking around the shelves. I just walk straight to the counter and I'm like uhh ciao, scusi. And hearing my nightmare of an accent the guy answers in english and I'm like thank christ, do you please have paracetamol. Not aspirin, I can't take aspirin. And he's like yeah yeah hold on, goes into the back, comes out with what I need.

Only when he comes out he gives me this look, and then he starts laughing. And then he pretends he's not laughing and rings me up and I pay, and as I'm leaving I can see him losing it. But I don't care, my head is going to explode, I'm going back to the rathole to close the blinds and fall comatose for four hours.

When I get back to my hotel room I take off my coat and remember the huge bouquet of herbs in my pocket. They smell amazing, and I'm like I'm pretty sure this is parsley in which case I can just get some tomatoes and mozzarella later and make it work. but since I have no idea what that interaction was, I want to make sure. I bring out my phone to get a visual reference of what parsley leaves look like, and because I was using it for google translate earlier I put 'parsley' in the wrong box like a dope and translate it to italian.

prezzemolo

I wish I could have been the pharmacist in the moment he looked at my tired pissed off anglophone ass, heard me say 'paracetamol' in my fucked up accent, and turned around saw what was in my pocket. I'd have lost my shit too.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!!

Could I request like a really cute Remus x reader where she’s never been kissed or anything before? Like they’re all out of Hogwarts or in their last year and she’s the only one to have never had a relationship, and she’s kinda insecure and anxious about it all?

No worries if not or if you’ve already done something like this!

Thank you! - x

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: alcohol, reader is a bit tipsy

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You don’t often feel self-conscious about your lack of romance. When you’re walking home from a bar on a cold night, it’s true that sometimes you wish you had a hand to hold, or a jacket that wasn’t your own, or somebody to slip an arm around your waist and make sure you keep your footing, but generally you’d rather wait than settle. When your friends start moaning and groaning about being lovelorn, though…

“It’s just been so long,” Sirius laments. He’s three sheets to the wind and hanging heavily from James’ side, who’s nodding commiseratingly as they wind a zig-zagging course down the sidewalk. “I mean, two months, James. Two months.” 

“It’s been nearly two weeks for me,” James says glumly. “I don’t know how much more I can take.” 

“Lily will be back from her holiday in three days,” Remus reminds him. He can hold his alcohol better than any of you, and thusly he’s been tasked with carrying the things everyone worried they’d lose. The keys to your apartment are somewhere in his pocket, along with James’ wallet—confiscated after James left it lying on the bar for the second time—and a collection of Sirius’ rings which keeps growing each time Sirius becomes distressed about them somehow falling off. 

“Yeah.” Sirius looks up at James, glaring. “You’re only two weeks in, and you’ve got a lifetime of kisses ahead of you. I’ve got to take them where I can get them, ‘nd I haven’t had even one in two months!” 

“If you think two months is bad,” you say, “try going your whole life.” 

You mean for it to come out light and quippy, but there’s a vulnerability lining your words that you don’t mean to reveal. You wince, thinking everyone’s heard it. 

“Well,” Sirius says after a brief silence, “yes, that does sound worse. Thank you, dollface. You’ve made me feel a bit better.” 

You smile ruefully. “Happy to help.” 

James starts waxing poetic about the shape of Lily’s top lip, and Remus slows his stride, falling into step beside you. You glance over, and he’s giving you a soft look. 

You go sheepish. “Sorry.” 

“What? Why are you sorry?” 

“That was embarrassing.” James and Sirius are talking loudly enough that you don’t have to lower your voice much to avoid being overheard. “I don’t mean to complain.” 

“It wasn’t embarrassing,” Remus murmurs, tone a fond color. He bumps your shoulder gently. “Anyway, I don’t think either of them are likely to remember.” 

You give him a sideways smile. “Maybe, but there’s still you.” 

“I can forget, too, if it suits you.” 

“It does suit me, thanks.” 

“Right. I’ll get right on that, then. Consider it forgotten.” 

You smile down at the sidewalk. There’s something about Remus which always relaxes you. Maybe it’s that he’s so easy to talk to, or that he doesn’t make you feel like you have to talk. You just feel safe with him. You walk a ways in comfortable silence, close but not quite touching, listening to Sirius and James giggle like schoolchildren ahead of you. 

“Do you really feel that way?” Remus asks after a while. “Like it’s bad that you haven’t kissed anyone?” 

You wet your lips. Your saliva tastes like booze. “Sometimes,” you admit. “Like, it’s not as bad for me as it seems for Sirius. But I guess it also probably helps that I don’t know what I’m missing.” 

“Yeah,” he hums, seeming pensive. “That makes sense.” 

“I do wish I’d gotten it over with earlier, though.” 

You’re not sure where it comes from. You do wish that, sometimes, but it’s not the sort of thing you say aloud. Even with a friend as good as Remus, it’s humiliating to declare a want so intimate. 

He looks surprised. “You do?” 

“Yeah,” you say, voice a shade of itself. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t really a choice. I was never trying to wait, or anything.” You shrug, cheeks warm. “There was just never an opportunity.” 

Remus makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a laugh. “Oh, I don’t believe that.” 

You look up. “Why not?” 

With your attention off the sidewalk, you stumble slightly, the toe of your shoe catching on the uneven pavement. Remus slips an arm around your waist to help. 

“Careful,” he says, suddenly incomprehensibly close to you. “Watch your footing.” 

“Sorry.” You look back down. “Why not?” you ask again, softly. 

“I just don’t think it’s possible no one ever tried to kiss you.” Remus’ voice is quiet but genuine. Unabashed. “More likely people have tried and you haven’t noticed. Or you just haven’t been ready. That’s alright too, you know.” 

“I’m ready,” you say certainly. “I’ve been ready. It just…hasn’t happened yet.” 

He hums. “That’s alright. So long as you’re alright with it.” 

You’re quiet the rest of the way home. You live in the same building as the boys, only the floor below. James’ bedroom is right above yours. He’s not usually too terrible an upstairs neighbor, though you’re looking forward to hearing him stumbling around before bed tonight. 

Remus walks you to your door while James and Sirius wait in the stairwell, cackling and crawling their way up on their hands and knees. He unlocks your door and reaches inside to turn on the hall light. 

“Alright?” he asks as you step inside. 

You nod. 

“Okay. Drink water, and make sure to lock the door behind you.” He gives you a smile, eyes dark in the dim light of your building. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” you say back. But he hardly makes it a few steps away before you’re leaning out of the door, suddenly desperate. “Remus?” 

“Yeah?” He turns. And he’s so lovely, all softness and gentle features. You know he’s the right person to trust with this. 

You swallow. “I’ve been ready for a long time. And I don’t…I don’t know if I’m alright with it anymore.” 

Remus frowns, stepping closer. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“I just feel so behind.” Your tone is nearly pleading. “I’m tired of not knowing what I’m missing. I’m curious. I want to know what it’s like.” 

“Y/n.” Remus says your name like a remonstrance gentled. Like he feels sorry for you. “What are you asking me?” 

You worry your hands are shaking, but you steady yourself against the doorframe, making your voice solid. “I’d rather it be with someone I’m comfortable with. Someone I trust.” 

Remus moves closer to you. He’s nearly as close as before, when he’d held you up on the sidewalk. You wonder if this is how close people get before it happens. 

“You’re drunk,” he murmurs, not unkindly. 

You shake your head. “Not that drunk. Not so much I don’t know what I want.” 

He sighs. Says your name again as though to himself, with fondness and something else you can’t place. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” you say in a whisper. “I’d just feel a lot better if it was you.” 

“Oh, love.” He takes your face gently in his hands. The pads of his thumbs soothe over your cheeks. “That’s not it.” 

Your breath catches as Remus starts to lean towards you, your eyes fluttering closed. You stay perfectly still as his lips come to rest in the center of your forehead. 

It’s a tender kiss, not lingering but not overly brief. In the end, it’s so sweet you can’t even bring yourself to feel slighted. 

“Go to bed,” says Remus, pulling back with a sorry smile. “If you still want to talk about it in the morning, we will, yeah? It’s not that I don’t want to.” 

“Okay. I’ll…” Your whole face tingles as though you really have been kissed. You’re half tempted to touch your lips to see if they feel different. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’m sorry, Remus.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he begs, backing down the hallway, “please. Goodnight, y/n.” 

Your voice comes out a tad breathless. “Goodnight.”

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Bathing with Ni-ki;

Pairing; fem!reader x cute boyfriend! Nishimura Riki Synopsis; In a tender moment, you and Ni-ki share an intimate bath, exchanging teasing touches, and sweet kisses. Genre; Fluff. But a bit suggestive. Warning; None (?) A bit of sexy tension because... you and him are naked.. (?)

A/N: I've had this idea for a few days and couldn't rest until it was finished, so here it is. I wanted it to be longer but whatever. It's still cute and intimate and that was the main goal! Likes and reblogs are always welcome, thank you so much!

As you stepped into the warm, soapy water, you immediately felt your body relax, loving the way it wrapped around you. You sat down in the tub, planning to wait for your boyfriend, but since he would take a while, you decided to start the bath by yourself. This way, when he arrived, you’d only need to focus on taking care of him—because knowing Ni-ki, he would ask you to wash his hair.

This wasn’t the first time you and Ni-ki had showered together, but last time it was a shower, and now it was a bath. And it seemed more intimate to you, so you felt a bit shy just thinking about it. Pushing those thoughts aside, you continued washing up. As you finished rinsing your hair, your boyfriend appeared.

Ni-ki entered the bathroom in just his underwear. His eyes immediately scanned the room, and when they met yours, he gave you a sly smile. Your eyes travelled along his body while he kept his gaze locked on you, waiting to see your reaction. You quickly turned your head away, closing your eyes and laughing.

“Come on, hurry up!” you said in a playful tone, knowing he was teasing you on purpose.

“Why are you closing your eyes? It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before,” Riki joked, but you didn’t look at him. Instead, you stayed still, looking off to the side and laughing. It was true, of course, but it still made you shy.

You only looked in Ni-ki’s direction once you heard him settle into the tub, his movements causing ripples in the water. When you finally turned to face him, you noticed only half of his torso was submerged, his skin glowing in the water’s reflections. He was smiling like a kid, savoring this precious moment with just the two of you.

Sitting across from him, you admired how childlike he looked, his arms resting beneath the water shyly. Then he spread his legs, signaling you it was time to change positions. Slowly, you lifted yourself and turned around, resting your back against his chest and your head on his shoulder as you nestled between his legs. Your feet planted themselves on the tub’s bottom, and you curled your legs against your torso.

Your boyfriend’s large hands quickly wrapped around your waist, savoring the calmness and warmth of your body against his. He then moved slowly, kissing your hair sweetly before nuzzling his face into your neck, his nose brushing against your skin lovingly.

“I love this,” Riki confessed, a smile on his lips as his hand softly caressed your cheek with his thumb.

You turned to face him. “Me too,” you replied, giggling when he brushed his nose against your ear.

“But we do have limited time. Remember what Jungwon said?” you reminded him, your hand now travelling to his handsome face, his oreo hair still completely dry.

“I know,” he said in a low voice, sulking.

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, soaking in each other’s presence and warmth. His long fingers gently caressed your sides under the water while your head rested on his shoulder, your eyes closed.

“Your hair smells so nice!” Riki said near your ear, inhaling deeply. “Can you wash my hair, please?” he asked excitedly, loving the way your gentle fingers always left his hair feeling perfect.

“How can I say no to you?” you teased, nodding. You signaled for him to turn around and move back a little to give you room to wet his hair and he did obediently.

“You have to go lower,” you complained with a laugh. His head was too far from the water because of how tall he was, so he let himself nearly fall backwards onto you until his head was almost submerged.

You couldn’t resist how cute he looked—eyes closed, lips slightly pouting, and his head completely wet. Gently, your fingers moved over his scalp, ensuring his hair was fully soaked so the shampoo would work better. Without him noticing, you leaned down and gave him a soft, upside-down kiss on his plump lips.

Ni-ki opened his eyes, surprised, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks. Smiling, you pulled him upright to start washing his hair.

“Use your shampoo, please…” Ni-ki asked, pouting. He loved smelling like you—it made him feel close to you at all times.

“Of course, baby boy,” you teased him, knowing he hated the nickname. But he let it slide, enjoying the moment. Carefully, you lathered his hair with your shampoo, the scent of fresh fruit filling the bathroom. Your skilled fingers gently massaged and cleaned his hair, bringing a sense of calmness and safety to him. You gently gather his front hair and massage it a bit more, noticing his bleached hair is starting to feel stronger.

“You’re so good at this…” Ni-ki said in a low voice, his deep tone sending shivers through you. Flustered, you felt your cheeks warm as you continued. Once his hair was fully washed, he dunked his head under the water to rinse, your hands still massaging his scalp.

The sight before you was breathtaking: his muscular body covered in bubbles, water drops rolling down his abs before disappearing under the water. Your mind wandered, and your cheeks burned even redder.

Ni-ki opened his eyes to find you staring, your mouth slightly open. Smirking, he teased, “You okay, baby?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, laughing lightly. “You just look so good, I was—”

“I know what you were thinking…” Riki interrupted, his tone teasing as he turned to face you. For the first time, he allowed himself to fully take in your beauty.

The water rested just below your chest, exposing your neck and shoulders your skin getting goosebumps under his intense gaze. Your wet hair was pushed back, making you look even more stunning. Slowly, Ni-ki’s hands reached for your waist, pulling you closer so he could seal your lips with a kiss.

You can feel his bare skin against yours, his lean abdomen against yours, your chest firmly pressed against his. You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to share his skin with you so you can be impossibly closer. His lips are slow but hungry against yours, devouring you with eagerness you have never seen before, his tongue carefully fighting yours to gain dominance.

Pulling back for air, Ni-ki admired you—head tilted back, eyes closed, and lips swollen. He could feel your rapid heartbeat against his chest.

“Y’all better hurry up!” Heesung yelled from outside, startling both of you. “I NEED TO USE THE TOILET!”

The urgency in his voice made you and Ni-ki laugh, breaking the mood. You stood up, stepping out of the tub to wrap yourself in a towel.

Your legs felt like jelly, and your heart was nearly pounding out of your chest. Your hands trembled slightly, the intimate moment with Ni-ki still vivid in your mind as you shyly dried yourself.

Ni-ki stayed behind, finishing his bath while regaining his composure. After a few minutes, as you slipped on one of his t-shirts, he appeared behind you, his tall frame looming over you. You turned around, only to be met with the sight of a wet Riki, a towel wrapped low on his hips. You gulped, your eyes instinctively traveling up and down his body, your breath caught in your throat.

“We… huh…” you stammered. “We have to go… Heesung needs…” Your eyes locked with Riki’s, his gaze so intense that it robbed you of the ability to form coherent words. “Heesung needs to come here,” you finally managed to say, your voice quivering as you bit your bottom lip.

Riki leaned forward, his tender lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Give me five minutes to dress, princess.”

Turning away, flustered, you tried to compose yourself, but the mirror in front of you betrayed you, reflecting every moment. Quietly, you watched as he dressed, unable to tear your eyes away. Speechless, you absorbed every movement until, within a few minutes, he was fully dressed.

As the both of you leave the bathroom, Heesung is waiting by the door.

“What happened in there?” Heesung asked with a smirk, noticing how you avoided Ni-ki’s gaze.

Looking at Heesung, Ni-ki smirked back, his hand resting on your lower back. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things If you want to be added or removed from the taglist, comment below!

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 7: September 2023

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families...I think that's it?

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The office was bright and quiet, the kind of designer-calm that was more aesthetic than practical. Polished concrete floors, oversized pendant lights, art books stacked just so. Everything looked effortless.

Except for Isabelle.

She sat at her desk, scrolling through final renderings for a residential project in Nice—light oak built-ins, linen upholstery, exposed stone. Her headphones were in, her tea long cold, her focus sharp.

And still, she could feel them.

The looks. The half-paused conversations. The way the room always seemed to hush just a little when she walked by.

It had started a few months back—right after she had started working on Max’s penthouse. 

After “The Verstappen commission,”

Which, yes, was massive. Private penthouse in Monaco. Full control of design. The budget so generous it felt like cheating.

But it wasn’t why her colleagues looked at her like that.

No, that was because of the last name.

Leclerc.

At first, it was subtle.

“Oh, Max Verstappen, huh? Funny coincidence.”

Then came the lingering glances. The comments that weren’t really jokes.

“Must be nice to have connections.”

 “Clients like that don’t just walk in the door.”

 “I mean, your brother is in F1, right?”

They never said it outright.

But she heard it. Felt it.

The implication that she hadn’t earned it. That she hadn’t spent years working late, poring over lighting plans, chasing perfection in the grain of walnut veneer. That she hadn’t clawed her way into an industry where quiet women were often passed over for louder, flashier names.

She was good at her job. Isabelle knew that. She was good. 

Good enough that her clients rarely asked for changes. 

Max’s design brief had been short and to the point: 

“Make it feel like home.”

And she had.

Still, the office couldn’t let it go.

Even now—months later—she could hear it in the voice of her coworker, Camille, who leaned against the edge of Isabelle’s desk with faux friendliness.

“Is that the Nice project?” Camille asked, eyeing her screen.

Isabelle slid off her headphones. “Yes. Final layout before the client walk-through.”

Camille hummed. “You’re getting all the high-end clients lately. It’s impressive. I guess once you do one Formula 1 driver’s penthouse…”

Isabelle smiled politely. “I still have to earn every brief.”

“Of course,” Camille said, all syrup and knives. “It just helps when people know your last name.”

Isabelle looked back at her screen. “Or your work.”

Camille blinked. “Sorry?”

“I said the client liked my work. He saw it before he saw my name.” She didn’t look up. “But thanks for the reminder.”

Camille stood there for a beat too long, clearly debating whether to keep the fight going.

Then she smiled, brittle and bright. “Anyway. Let me know if you need a second set of eyes.”

Isabelle nodded. “I will.”

She wouldn’t.

Camille walked away. Isabelle exhaled.

Never mind that she’d been designing clean, grounded spaces with layered textures and a focus on subtle light since she was twenty-one.

Never mind that she had graduated top of her class at Sorbonne. Never mind that she had won awards for her work. 

Never mind that just last week, she’d redesigned the entire layout of an apartment, hand-sourced reclaimed timber from an antique dealer in Northern Italy, managed three contractors across two countries, and did it all on time and under budget.

None of it mattered.

Not to them.

They saw the name. They made their assumptions. They smiled, thin-lipped and cold, when she walked into a room.

No one said it outright, of course. That wasn’t how this studio worked.

It was in the “accidental” exclusion from meetings. The last-minute presentation changes that stripped her name from the credits. The way Léa always called her Charles Leclerc’s sister when speaking to clients, like that was more relevant than her entire résumé.

And Isabelle… she swallowed it. Like she always did.

Because fighting it felt worse. Like it would just confirm what they already believed: that she was here because of someone else. That she had something to prove.

So she nodded. She worked. She smiled.

There was such a gap between the life she had at home and the one she had at work. 

One full of careful love and quiet safety. One where someone saw her, really saw her, and chose her without hesitation.

And one where people looked at her and saw an advantage. A connection. A shortcut they assumed she’d taken.

No one here knew she’d just moved in with Max Verstappen.

No one knew that the penthouse she designed now held her books. Her blankets. Her favorite brand of tea, tucked next to his energy drinks in the cupboard.

No one knew that she woke up on mornings that he was there to him pressing a kiss to her temple and mumbling, don’t forget your scarf, it’s windy today, like she was something precious he’d wrapped his life around.

Her private life was a dream.

It was slow breakfasts in a sunlit kitchen. Laughter tangled in late-night Netflix documentaries. Max standing behind her at the sink, arms around her waist, whispering that he loved the life they were building.

But her professional life?

It felt like it was crumbling beneath the weight of other people’s expectations.

Not good enough to be here on her own.

 Too quiet to demand credit.

Too privileged to complain.

She clenched her teeth. 

She wasn’t going to let them shrink her. Not again.

Not after all the ways she’d already been made small.

Because the truth was: her name had opened zero doors.

But her work?

That spoke for itself.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Victoria Verstappen

Victoria: Hey Isabelle—random question. You have a minute?

Isabelle: Of course. What’s up?

Victoria: I’m redoing the kids’ room, and I’m going to lose my mind.

Victoria: So, Luka wants a car-themed room.

Victoria: Lio wants a dinosaur room.

Victoria: And I love them, but if I let them pick everything, my house will look like a Hot Wheels museum and a Jurassic Park gift shop had a child.  

Victoria: No one else I’ve talked to gets why I don’t want neon walls and tire-shaped beds.

Isabelle:  Because you have taste. And also because you care about designing something they can grow into.

Victoria: Yes, exactly!! I don’t want to be a sad beige mom, but I don’t want three hundred Lightning McQueen stickers either. 

Victoria: HOW do I make it nice? Like, actually nice. Not themed-party nice.

Victoria: Aesthetic. Calm. Maybe even cohesive??

Victoria: Is that possible??

Isabelle: It definitely is. The trick is color palette + subtle accents.

Isabelle: For Lio: a neutral base. Soft greens and sandy taupes for the walls. Dino Silhouettes, a custom mural, or maybe wallpaper. More storybook style than cartoon. Texture it up with wood shelves, natural materials, and some cute storage baskets that don’t scream plastic chaos.

Isabelle: For Luka: Think more along the lines of vintage race cars. Maybe white with some slate grey? More graphic than literal? Maybe we could find a tire print bedding…  also vintage racing posters, or maybe wallpaper. 

Victoria: You’re kidding. That sounds… beautiful. Isabelle. This is amazing.

Isabelle: It can be cute and timeless. Trust me.

Victoria:  Can I actually hire you for this? Like, for real?

Isabelle: You don’t have to hire me. I’ll help because I want to. But thank you for asking.

Victoria: No, thank you.  You’re brilliant.  I’ve looked at a million Pinterest boards, and none of them had this.

Victoria: Max is a nightmare to impress, and even he won't stop bragging about how you designed the penthouse.

Isabelle:  I’ll put together two mood boards for you—one for each theme: subtle, elevated, and adaptable. You can mix and match, and I’ll help make it look amazing.

Victoria: You’re amazing. Truly. 

***

Isabelle was in the studio early—like always—finalizing fabric pulls for a coastal villa project when she opened the project file and found everything… gone.

Her digital mood boards? Wiped.

The CAD revisions she stayed up late fixing? Replaced with an earlier, incomplete draft.

At first, she thought it was a mistake. Maybe she’d forgotten to save her edits. Maybe the cloud hadn’t synced. Maybe—

“Hey, Isabelle,” said Léa, voice syrupy-sweet from her desk across the room. “Your name’s all over the drive this morning. Everything okay?”

Isabelle turned, trying to keep her voice steady. “Someone deleted my work.”

“Oh?” Léa blinked. “Maybe you just didn’t save it?”

“I did.”

“Well, these things happen. Tech is finicky. Or maybe it was a permissions issue?” She smiled, sharp and condescending. “You’re still getting used to the system, right?”

Isabelle said nothing.

It wasn’t the first time. Last week, someone had “accidentally” removed her name from a client presentation. The week before that, she'd been left out of a team brainstorming session for a luxury development she’d pitched.

Now this.

She wasn’t supposed to care.

But she did.

So, so much.

***

Max heard the door open and shut softly. He glanced at the clock—past midnight. Again.

Isabelle walked in, kicking off her heels and sighing as she dropped her bag on the floor. She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, shoulders slumped with fatigue.

Max crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “You know,” he said, “there’s an easy solution to this.”

She raised an eyebrow, already knowing where this was going. “Oh?”

“You quit your job,” he said simply. “Become my incredibly spoiled, disgustingly pampered trophy wife. No more late nights, no more stress. Just you, spending my money and riding your horses.”

Isabelle snorted, shaking her head as she walked toward him. “Max.”

“I’m serious,” he said, watching her. “I don’t like seeing you like this. You work too much.”

She sighed, rubbing at her temples. “I know. But I don’t like depending on anybody.”

Max frowned. “It’s not depending on me, it’s—”

“It is,” she cut in gently. “I’ve spent my whole life making sure I can take care of myself. I never want to be in a position where I have to rely on someone else to be okay.”

His expression softened, and he reached for her hand, pulling her closer. “You wouldn’t have to. But you could if you wanted to.”

She exhaled, leaning into him slightly. “I know. And that’s why I love you. But I need this, Max. I need to know I can stand on my own two feet.”

Max sighed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Fine. But at least let me buy you dinner when you come home too late to eat.”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist. “That, I can agree to.”

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Victoria Verstappen 

Victoria: Do you still want to help with the final installation for the boys’ rooms?

Isabelle: Of course!  Just say when.

Victoria: Next weekend?

Victoria: Luka’s been asking when “Tante Belle” is coming back to make his race cars zoomier.

Victoria: And I promised him wallpaper would happen soon, or I’d never hear the end of it.

Isabelle: I can fly in Friday night. Max has a race weekend, so I’ll be solo anyway.

Isabelle: Want me to bring anything?

Victoria: Your magic brain.

Victoria:  And maybe the strength of ten men for this wallpaper. Think we can manage?

Isabelle: If you hold it straight, I’ll climb the ladder. We’ve got this.

Victoria: That’s the spirit.

Victoria: Also—want to do a decor run Saturday morning?

Victoria: I thought I had taste, but apparently, everything I pick is “too boring” or “not sparkly enough.”

Isabelle: Consider it a mission.

Isabelle: But honestly… I might just order half the internet to your house before I get there.

Victoria: Dangerous. I like it.

Isabelle: Just let me know what color Lio’s “not jungle but jungle” theme has become this week.

Victoria: I think we’ve settled on “treehouse with optional dinosaurs.”

Isabelle: That’s a mood.

Isabelle: Thank you for asking me to come. Really.

Victoria: Belle.  You’re family.

Victoria: And you’re good at this. That combo is rare and very needed.

Isabelle: Now you’re going to make me cry over wallpaper.

Victoria: You’re allowed.

Victoria:  Just not on the ladder.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen 

Isabelle: Victoria invited me to come for the weekend. 

Isabelle: To help with the boys’ rooms. Final install.

Max: That’s great! She loves your designs. I knew she’d want you there for it. You said yes, right?

Isabelle: Of course.

Isabelle: I mean… I think I did?

Isabelle: I panicked a little and offered to book a Friday evening flight and overnight half of Zara Home to her house.

Max: Sounds like a yes.

Isabelle: It’s the first time someone in your family’s invited me like that. Just… as me.

Max: That’s because they love you.  I knew they would.  You’re impossible not to love.

Isabelle: You’re biased.

Max: I’m correct.

Max: You’re going, right?

Isabelle: Yeah. I want to.  You’ll be gone anyway. Race weekend.

Max: Good. I like it when you’re with them.

Isabelle: Thank you.

Max: For what?

Isabelle: For never making me feel like I’m just passing through.

Max: You’re not. You’re home.

***

Instagram Stories: @/victoriaverstappen

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen 

Max: Thanks again for inviting her this weekend.

Victoria: Don’t be ridiculous. She’s brilliant.  And the boys adore her.

Victoria: Luka yelled, “ISABELLE’S HERE!” like she was Santa.

Max: I think she was really nervous.  She hasn’t been… included like this much. Not by family.

Victoria: I picked up on that. She was so polite it almost broke my heart.

Max: Yeah.  That’s kind of her default.  Be small, be quiet, and don’t get in the way.

Victoria: Not in this house.

Max: Thank you.

Victoria: You don’t have to thank me for loving someone who clearly loves you.

Victoria: I see the way she looks at you, Max.

Victoria: Like she’s finally allowed to breathe.

Max: That’s how I feel when she walks in the room.

Victoria: Then we’re all exactly where we should be.

Victoria: I’ve got her. Go win your race.

Max: Trying. For both of you.

Victoria: We’ll be watching. Luka’s already decided that if you win, it’s because Isabelle helped pick the right snacks.

Max: He might be right.

Max: Thank you, Vic. Really. 

Victoria:  She’s family.  I just hope one day her brothers realize what they’ve been blind to.

Max: I hope so, too. But until then—she’s got us.

Victoria: She always will.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/gridwives: I’m gonna need someone to explain why Isabelle Leclerc is calmly shopping with Victoria Verstappen like it’s not news?!

↳@/softpitstop: I think Isabelle is helping Victoria with her sons’ rooms. ↳@/sleuthsinmonaco: Do you think Max gave Victoria an interior designer tip?!

@/lightsoutgirlies: This is my Roman empire: Victoria Verstappen and Isabelle leclerc

@/wagsandwhiplash:  Wait, wait wait—are Luka and Lio getting room makeovers??? And Isabelle Leclerc is doing them?? Like designing them???

@/thepaddockprince:  Okay, but I’m sorry, WHERE is Charles in all this? Isabelle’s out here designing Verstappen bedrooms, and he’s just... letting that happen?

@/f1fanficfuel: i need 4k behind-the-scenes content. I need the mood boards. I need the receipts. I NEED TO KNOW WHY ISABELLE LECLERC IS DECORATING THE VERSTAPPEN FAMILY HOME.

@/danielricchaos The funniest thing about all this is that none of them are explaining anything.Victoria just tagged her.  Isabel didn’t repost. Max hasn’t said a word, and now I’m insane.

@/leclercstanaccount: me trying to figure out how Charles’s invisible sister ended up doing a home makeover with victoria verstappen: ?!?!

@softlaunchcentral:  Ok, but why does Victoria’s entire weekend story arc feel like a soft launch of a new family member?  Isabelle Leclerc walked in with a tape measure and iced coffee and took OVER

@/babyverstappens: No, but genuinely: How do Victoria Verstappen and Isabelle Leclerc know each other?! Who organized this crossover episode? Was it Fred Vasseur? Is this ferrari pr? Are we being gaslit?

@/plsnotanothersecretwedding: Isabelle Leclerc shopping for race car wallpaper and stuffed dinosaurs was not on my 2025 Paddock Bingo card. But I’m invested now. 

@/wagsfc: are we… soft-launching Isabelle Leclerc as victoria’s best friend?? is this happening?? 

@/formulaclarles: Why is Charles Leclerc’s sister shopping for Victoria Verstappen’s kids’ rooms???

@/dinosanddrs: The Verstappen toddler has a Leclerc choosing his wallpaper. F1 lore has never been deeper.

@/paddockpoetry: Watching Victoria and Isabelle together today just made me realize that… they both have brothers who risk their lives every weekend. Not a lot of people understand what that does to you.

@/f1bloom: Victoria and Isabelle are from two different worlds but somehow the same one:  like who else really understands that fear? Of watching the person you love fly at 300km/h and having to smile through it?

@/slowpitstoppoet: Victoria Verstappen and Isabelle Leclerc are watching the race together while wrangling toddlers like it’s a normal Sunday afternoon… There’s something really tender about that.

↳@/paddockthoughts It’s easy to forget sometimes that these guys are brothers and sons and uncles—not just drivers.

@/theracedaypoet: Two sisters. Two very different men behind the wheel. One Red Bull. One Ferrari. And somehow, they meet in the middle of a living room, with juice boxes, toy dinosaurs, and silent prayers. That’s what hit me about Victoria’s stories today.

@tracksideemotions: Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen. Two of the most elite drivers in f1. Their sisters? Sat on a couch this afternoon, raising small kids and holding juice pouches and watching people they love do something terrifying. I don’t know. That’s kind of beautiful.

@/gridgirlsundays Not to get sentimental, but Victoria Verstappen and Isabelle Leclerc watching the race together? That’s actually so beautiful??? Two women who know exactly what it’s like to love someone who goes 300 kph for a living

@/gridgirlsunite: Seeing Victoria and Isabelle watching the race together, surrounded by kids and calm chaos… and realizing both of them have brothers in those cars. That hit.

@/chaoticenergyf1:  We always talk about the WAGs.  But the sisters? The ones who grew up with karting fumes in their hair and have to smile through every post-race debrief because no one really asks if they’re okay? Victoria and Isabelle deserve more credit.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles and Lorenzo) 

Isabelle: My car won’t start.

Isabelle: Can I borrow one of yours for a few days?

Charles: No.

Arthur: HAHAHAHAHAHA. No. 

Lorenzo: Absolutely not.

Isabelle: …Are you kidding me? I have no way to get to work.

Arthur: Take the train?

Isabelle: It’s too far, and there’s no direct route.

Charles: The bus?

Isabelle: I���d have to leave in five minutes to even make it work.

Lorenzo: Taxi?

Isabelle: I can’t afford a taxi every day, Lorenzo.

Arthur: Maybe this is a sign you should finally buy a new car.

Isabelle: Oh yes, let me just manifest thousands of euros out of thin air.

Charles: You should have planned for this.

Isabelle: My car was fine yesterday, Charles! I didn’t exactly expect it to die overnight!

Arthur: Sounds like a you problem.

Isabelle: You problem?? My car just DIED. I didn’t plan for this!

Lorenzo: Maybe you should’ve.

Isabelle: HOW DOES ONE PLAN FOR THEIR CAR DYING OVERNIGHT?

Charles: By not driving something from 2010.

Arthur: Isabelle, your car was basically a tin can on wheels. It was only a matter of time.

Lorenzo: Yeah, at this point, it was a mercy killing.

Isabelle: Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we all had Ferrari sponsorships. Let me just drop six figures on a new car real quick.

Arthur: You don’t need six figures. You just need something that isn’t held together by hope and desperation.

Isabelle: I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS.

Isabelle: One of you just lend me a car. For TWO DAYS. I promise I won’t even breathe near the paint.

Charles: Isabelle, you can’t just borrow a Ferrari like it’s a spare phone charger.

Isabelle: I wasn’t asking for your Ferrari specifically, Charles! Any of you must have something I can use.

Lorenzo: You’ll survive.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Max: Hey, you okay? Haven’t heard from you today.

Isabelle: Oh. Yeah. Just dealing with a disaster.

Max: …What kind of disaster?

Isabelle: My car is dead. Like fully dead. It made a noise that I’m pretty sure meant it was dying, started smoking, and then it wouldn’t start.

Max: That’s… not great. Did you have it towed? 

Isabelle: It’s at the garage now. The mechanic basically said it’s on life support and not worth fixing.

Max: So take one of mine. You know where the car keys are. 

Isabelle: Excuse me?

Max: So just take one of mine. You know where the car keys are. what’s the problem, schatje?

Isabelle: …You say that like it’s normal.

Max: It is normal? We live together? You need a car? I have cars? Just grab a key and take one?

Isabelle: …I asked my brothers if I could borrow one of their cars while I figure things out. Lorenzo ignored me. Arthur laughed. Charles said that I should have planned for this. 

Max: Your brothers are useless.

Max: Take any one of the cars.

Isabelle: Max. Be serious.

Max: I am serious.

Isabelle: What if I crash it?!

Max: Then I worry more about you than the car.

Isabelle: What if I scratch something??

Max: Then it gets fixed.

Isabelle: Max.

Max: Isabelle.

Max: Just take one. I don’t want you dealing with this.

Isabelle: I cannot believe this. My own brothers wouldn’t even consider letting me borrow a car, and you—

Max: I’m your boyfriend. This is normal.

Isabelle: Is it???

Max: Yes. Now go pick a car before I get somebody to drive you everywhere.

Isabelle: You wouldn’t.

Max Verstappen: Schatje, they are just cars. You are making a big deal out of nothing. Pick whichever one you want.

Isabelle: I just… I can’t believe you’re okay with this.

Isabelle: You are actually insane.

Max: No, I’m practical. You need a car, I have cars. Problem solved.

Isabelle: Fine. Which one do you care about the least?

Max: None of them are as important as you.

Isabelle: That’s not what I—Max. Which one??

Max: …The Porsche?

Isabelle: I cannot take your Porsche.

Max: Okay, then take the Aston.

Isabelle: That is worse.sss

Max: Take the Audi, then. Or one of the Ferraris.

Isabelle: You are not helping.

Max: I’m literally giving you a solution, schatje. Just pick any of the cars. I don’t care which one you use. I have to get ready for qualifying. Take a car. Be safe. And text me when you’re home. Love you. 

Isabelle: Love you too, you ridiculous man.

***

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: You are NOT going to believe the absolute nonsense I just went through.

Emilie: Oh, this is already promising. Go on.

Isabelle: My car? Dead. Like full-on smoking and now won’t start. So I asked my dear, wonderful brothers if I could borrow one of their cars.

Emilie: Oh, I know this isn’t going to end well.

Isabelle: Lorenzo said ABSOLUTELY NOT. Arthur laughed. Charles told me, and I QUOTE: “Isabelle, you can’t just borrow a Ferrari like it’s a spare phone charger.”

Emilie: I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet.

Isabelle: I was fuming.

Emilie: So what’s the solution? Are you getting a rental?

Isabelle: I WAS. And then Max texted me because I hadn’t answered him all day. I explained the whole thing, and do you know what he said??

Emilie: …I am both excited and terrified to find out.

Isabelle: “Just take one of mine.”

Emilie: …

Emilie: Of course he did.

Isabelle: I told him that was INSANE. Like, shouldn’t racing drivers be obsessed with their cars? Worried I’ll scratch them? Do you know what Charles would do if I so much as LOOKED at his Ferrari keys too long??

Emilie: Have a full-on cardiac episode.

Isabelle: EXACTLY.

Emilie: And Max?

Isabelle: Told me to just grab a key and drive whichever car I wanted.

Emilie: …He really just handed you the keys to the kingdom, huh?

Isabelle: I told him I could CRASH it, and do you know what he said??

Emilie: Oh, I cannot wait.

Isabelle: “Then I worry more about you than the car.”

Emilie: …

Emilie: This man is going to MARRY you.

Isabelle: SHUT UP.

Emilie: I WILL NOT. That was the most disgustingly romantic thing I’ve ever read.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Max: So… what are we thinking for a new car?

Isabelle: Something used. I don’t need anything fancy.

Max: Used?

Isabelle: Yes?? I’ll be throwing horse stuff in there anyway. No point in getting something new just to cover it in mud and hay.

Max: No.

Isabelle: …No?

Max: No. You’re getting something safe.

Isabelle: Max.

Max: Isabelle.

Isabelle: You are being ridiculous.

Max: For wanting you to be in a car that won’t fall apart if someone breathes on it? Yeah, I am so ridiculous, you wouldn’t believe it.

Isabelle: It’s not going to fall apart, Max. I’ve had my car for years.

Max: And look what happened to it.

Isabelle: …Okay, fair.

Max: So. Something safe. Think about the children.

Isabelle: …What.

Max: When we have kids, you’re going to be driving them around.

Isabelle: Excuse me???

Max: What?

Isabelle: WHEN we have kids???

Max: Yes??

Isabelle: You’re already thinking about that??

Max: Of course.

Isabelle: Oh my god.

Max: I thought you’d already thought about it.

Isabelle: I have, but you thinking about it is a whole different thing!!

Max: Why wouldn’t I? I want a family. With you.

Isabelle: …

Max: Schatje?

Isabelle: I need a minute.

Max: Okay. Take your minute. But after that, we’re getting back to the car discussion because you are not getting some half-broken used car.

Isabelle: You just casually dropped “when we have kids” into a conversation about cars like it was nothing.

Max: It’s just… something I’ve thought about. A lot.

Isabelle: A lot??

Max: Yes? I want to spend my life with you. So obviously, I think about that.

Isabelle: Oh my god.

Max: And you’ve thought about it too.

Isabelle: I— okay, maybe, but that’s different!

Max: How?

Isabelle: Because I didn’t expect you to think about it!!

Max: …Schatje.

Isabelle: What.

Max: I love you.

Isabelle: …I love you too.

Max: I want to build a future with you. A family. I don’t know when that will happen, but I know that when it does, I want you to be the mother of my children.

Isabelle: …

Max: You’re being very quiet.

Isabelle: …Just processing.

Max: Take your time. 

***

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Emilie. Emergency.

Emilie: What did Max do?

Isabelle: We were talking about CARS. Just cars. Like normal people.

Emilie: Uh-huh…

Isabelle: And then out of nowhere, he’s like, “Well, think about the children.”

Emilie: …WHAT.

Isabelle: EXACTLY.

Emilie: WHAT.

Emilie: And what did you say???

Isabelle: Nothing! My brain short-circuited! He just kept talking like it was totally normal!!!

Emilie: Belle. Be honest. Are you freaking out because it was unexpected or because you really liked hearing him say that?

Isabelle: …I met his nephews.

Isabelle: Emilie. They’re tiny Maxes. Like. Exact replicas. The genes in that family are scary.

Emilie: YOU’RE GONE.

Isabelle: I’M IN DANGER.

Emilie: No, you’re in love.

Emilie: Belle. I love you, but you’ve always been that girl. The type who had a secret wedding Pinterest board at sixteen and a list of baby names hidden in your notes app.

Isabelle: …Shut up.

Emilie: Am I wrong?

Isabelle: …No.

Emilie: EXACTLY. And now you have a boyfriend who also thinks about those things. I’m so happy for you.

Isabelle: But like. He said it so casually. Like he just knows it’s going to happen. No hesitation, no panic. Just “Think about the children.”

Emilie: He’s in love with you, Belle. Obviously, he’s thinking about the future.

Isabelle: Yeah, but. That far ahead?

Emilie: Let’s be real. You love that he’s thinking about it.

Isabelle: I do. I really do.

Emilie: So. What are we naming my future godchild?

Isabelle: EMILIE.

Emilie: Just saying, you should prepare. Because if you do have a kid with Max Verstappen, it’s definitely going to be a mini Max.

Isabelle: I KNOW. That’s the problem. His genes are terrifyingly strong.

Emilie: You’re already picturing it, aren’t you?

Isabelle: …Maybe.

Emilie: You’re so gone for this man.

Isabelle: I KNOW.

Isabelle: I mean, logically, I knew Max was serious about us. But hearing him say something like that so casually? Like it’s just… a fact?

Emilie: Because to him, it is a fact. Belle, you are it for him. You really think Max Verstappen does things halfway?

Isabelle: No…

Emilie: Exactly. This is a guy who commits fully to everything. You think he wouldn’t be the same about you? About your future together?

Isabelle: I guess I just never thought someone would… want that with me, you know?

Emilie: Oh, Belle.

Isabelle: Like, I love my brothers, but I’ve spent my whole life feeling like an afterthought. Charles, Lorenzo and Arthur had their thing, their path, their goals. I was just… there.

Emilie: You were never just there.

Isabelle: It felt like it. Like I was always waiting for someone to see me. And now here’s Max, just—knowing. No hesitation, no doubts. He just knows.

Emilie: And that scares you?

Isabelle: No. That’s the thing—it doesn’t. It should, right? I should be panicking because it’s too much, too soon. But I’m not.

Emilie: Because deep down, you’ve already thought about it too.

Isabelle: …Yeah.

Emilie: So what now?

Isabelle: I don’t know. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Text him like, “Hey, I’d love to ruin my body for you, let’s make a Verstappen baby”?

Emilie: STOP! I just choked on my drink.

Isabelle: You asked!

Emilie: Okay, but honestly—do you want that? Not just in theory. Not just someday. With him.

Isabelle: …Yeah. I do.

Emilie: Belle. That’s huge.

Isabelle: I know. But it’s also terrifying.

Emilie: Why?

Isabelle: Because what if I let myself want it too much? What if I start dreaming about it and then something happens? What if it doesn’t work out?

Emilie: Okay, but what if it does? What if you and Max get everything you’ve ever wanted?

Isabelle: …Then I think I’d be really, really happy.

Emilie: Then maybe it’s time to start letting yourself believe in it.

Isabelle: Yeah. Maybe it is.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Hypothetically, what would you name our baby?

Max: Really, hypothetically? Or are you testing me?

Isabelle: Just answer the question, Verstappen.

Max: Fine. I like names that sound strong. Nothing too complicated.

Isabelle: …That’s not an answer.

Max: You answer first.

Isabelle: No, because then you’ll just pick one of mine to agree with.

Max: That is not true.

Isabelle: Prove it.

Max: Okay. If it’s a boy… maybe Noah.

Isabelle: Huh.

Max: You don’t like it?

Isabelle: No, I do! I just didn’t expect that.

Max: What did you expect?

Isabelle: I don’t know… something more Dutch?

Max: Like what?

Isabelle: I don’t know, Willem.

Max: …That’s literally the king’s name.

Isabelle: And your name is literally Max Emilian, you’re acting like you don’t sound like a prince in a European history textbook.

Max: Says the girl with four names. I refuse to name our kid Willem, by the way. 

Isabelle: Okay, fine. What about a girl?

Max: I always liked Zoe.

Isabelle: …

Max: Why are you silent?

Isabelle: I just. Didn’t expect that either.

Max: You’re testing me, aren’t you?

Isabelle: Maybe.

Max: Isabelle.

Isabelle: Okay, fine, I was curious.

Max: And?

Isabelle: And now I know that you’ve actually thought about this.

Max: Of course I have. I told you—I don’t do things halfway.

Isabelle: …

Max: What?

Isabelle: Nothing.

Max: Isabelle.

Isabelle: It’s just… I like Zoe.

Max: Yeah?

Isabelle: Yeah.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Hey, I need car advice.

GP: For yourself?

Max: No, for Isabelle.

GP: What happened to her current car?

Max: It died. Fixing it would cost more than it's worth.

GP: That sounds about right. So, what are you thinking?

Max: Something safe for the kids.

GP:

GP:

GP: WHAT KIDS?

Max: ???

GP: MAX.

GP: ISABELLE IS PREGNANT???

Max: No??

GP: THEN WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT "SOMETHING SAFE FOR THE KIDS"?

Max: Oh. I meant, like, future kids.

GP: Max.

GP: You nearly gave me a heart attack.

Max: Why would you immediately assume she's pregnant?

GP: BECAUSE YOU SAID "FOR THE KIDS."

Max: Yeah, but future ones. Obviously.

GP: Nothing about that was obvious, Max.

Max: …So do you have a car suggestion or not?

GP: Max. MAX. You’ve been dating for—what—five months?

Max: Almost six.

GP: AND YOU’RE ALREADY THINKING ABOUT KIDS??

Max: I mean, yeah? Why wouldn’t I?

GP: Because most people don’t plan future car safety for hypothetical children six months into a relationship??

Max: Well, when you know, you know.

Max: Anyway. I’m thinking of an SUV. Maybe a Mercedes. Isabelle wants something practical, but I don’t trust her to pick something actually safe.

GP: What does she want?

Max: “Something cheap that won’t make her cry if a horse destroys it.”

GP: And you?

Max: Something that won’t crumple in a crash. Something safe. Something that—

GP: Can carry future Verstappen babies, I got it.

Max: You’re catching on.

GP: You are so lucky I’ve known you this long because if anyone else told me this six months into dating, I’d assume they were insane.

Max: I am insane.

GP: … Fair.

GP: So, does Isabelle know you’re out here planning a future family car?

Max: Not exactly.

GP: Oh my god.

Max: We were just talking about what kind of car she should get, and I may have casually mentioned thinking about safety for future kids.

GP: And?

Max: She kind of short-circuited.

GP: No kidding.

GP: So, what’s the plan?

Max: I’m going to “help” her pick something.

GP: Meaning?

Max: Meaning she thinks we’re going car shopping, but really, I’m going to steer her toward something I already picked out.

GP: You are so manipulative.

Max: Smart. I’m smart.

GP: Does she know that you’re just going to buy it for her?

Max: No, and she’ll fight me on it, but I’ll win.

GP: How?

Max: I’ll just tell her it’s a gift, and if she doesn’t accept it, I’ll be very sad.

GP: Max, that only works because you have the face of a golden retriever.

Max: And I use it.

Max: So, what car should I buy her?

GP: You want me to help you pick a car for your girlfriend, who has no idea you’re about to buy her a car?

Max: Exactly.

GP: Do I look like a car salesman?

Max: You look like my race engineer, which means you’re good at analyzing data and helping me make smart decisions.

GP: That is such a stretch.

Max: Come on. What would you get if you were picking a car for your girlfriend?

GP: Something reliable. Safe. Not too flashy—

Max: Boring.

GP: Practical.

Max: I don’t want Isabelle driving something boring.

GP: Because you’re planning on borrowing it?

Max: No! Because she deserves something nice.

GP: But she doesn’t want nice, she wants practical.

Max: I can do both.

GP: Max—

Max: What?

GP: Just buy her a Volvo.

Max: A Volvo?

GP: Safe. Reliable. Built to last.

Max: But—

GP: Also one of the best crash-tested brands in the world. You did say you were thinking about kids, right?

Max: I hate that you know me this well.

GP: That’s my job.

Max: …Fine. I’ll look at Volvos.

GP: Good. Just… next time you text me something like that, lead with the fact that she’s not pregnant.

Max: I think it was funnier this way.

GP: I hate you.

***

"You’re being weird."

Max glanced at Isabelle as they walked into the dealership, his face a perfect mask of innocence. "I’m not being weird."

"You are," she insisted, narrowing her eyes. "You hate car dealerships. You said, and I quote, ‘Why would I subject myself to this when I can just order a car online and have it delivered like a normal person?’”

"Well," Max said smoothly, "this is different. This is your car."

Isabelle was still suspicious but let it go. For now. She’s just grateful he came with her. She might love shopping, but car shopping? Absolutely not.

A salesman approached, all too eager when he recognised who had just walked in. "Mr. Verstappen, it’s a pleasure! How can I help you today?"

Max didn’t even hesitate. "We’re looking at SUVs."

Isabelle stopped in her tracks. "We are?"

"Yes," Max said, completely unfazed. "Something safe. Reliable. Good for long drives and carrying things."

"Like hay and tack and muddy boots?" she deadpanned.

The salesman, sensing an easy sale, grinned. "I’ve got some great options! Any particular brands in mind?"

Max gave him a look. The look. The one that meant he already had one car in mind and would not be swayed.

"Show us the Volvo XC90, please."

Isabelle blinked. "A Volvo?"

Max nodded. "Volvos are the safest cars on the market."

"You sound like a commercial."

"It’s true."

"I thought you were going to make me test drive something ridiculous, like a Ferrari SUV."

"No," Max scoffed, as if the mere suggestion was offensive.

The salesman led them over to a sleek, black Volvo XC90. Isabelle, despite herself, was intrigued. It was nice. Comfortable. It had all the modern safety features Max has probably memorized.

She ran her hand over the hood. "This is… actually not bad."

Max gave her a satisfied look. "GP thought you would like it."

Isabelle frowned. "Wait. GP was involved in this?"

"Of course. He and I had a whole discussion."

"About my car?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Max shrugged, playing innocent. "I wanted his opinion. He agreed it was a good choice for you."

Isabelle crossed her arms. "So you two picked this out before we even got here?"

"Not exactly—"

"Max."

"Okay, yes."

Isabelle gaped at him. "So this whole ‘shopping’ trip was just a performance? A setup?"

Max looked far too pleased with himself. "Well, I couldn’t just tell you to get this one. You’d have fought me on it."

"Of course I would have! You can’t just decide for me!"

"But you like it, don’t you?"

She hesitated. Damn him. She did like it. But that wasn’t the point.

"You’re insufferable."

Max grinned, leaning against the car. "Yet, here we are."

The salesman, wisely staying out of this, cleared his throat. "Would you like to test drive it?"

Isabelle sighed. "I guess."

Max nudged her. "You’re welcome."

"I didn’t thank you."

"You will," Max said smugly.

And annoyingly, she knew he was right.

***

Max had never been one for extravagant birthday celebrations. He much preferred a quiet evening, good food, and the company of someone he actually wanted to be around. Which was why, when Isabelle asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, his answer was simple:

"Just dinner. At home. With you."

So that was exactly what they did.

Isabelle had insisted on cooking, despite his half-hearted protests that they could just order something. But she had shot him a look—one he knew well by now, the kind that dared him to argue—and so he had wisely backed off. Instead, he stood at the kitchen island, sipping a glass of wine as he watched her move around the kitchen with quiet efficiency.

"You know," he mused, "this is a pretty good birthday already."

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the small smile she tried to hide. "I haven't even finished cooking yet."

"Doesn't matter. You’re here. That’s enough."

Her hands stilled on the cutting board, her grip tightening slightly before she exhaled and resumed slicing the vegetables. She had never been great at accepting compliments, but Max had learned to give them anyway.

Dinner turned out perfect—simple, comforting, and exactly what he wanted. After they had eaten, they lingered at the table, talking about everything and nothing at all, her fingers occasionally brushing against his. When they finally moved to the couch, he pulled her close, letting out a content sigh.

"Happy birthday, Max," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

He hummed in response, his arms tightening around her. "It is."

Max hadn’t wanted a big celebration. No parties, no cameras, no over-the-top surprises—just a quiet evening at home with Isabelle. And honestly, that was all he needed.

He smiled, tightening his hold on her. “It is.”

The quiet hum of the city outside their apartment barely registered as Max sat there, content with the warmth of Isabelle tucked against him. He had spent birthdays in Monaco, in fancy restaurants, surrounded by people who barely knew him beyond his racing. But this—just the two of them, no distractions—was his favorite.

She shifted slightly, tilting her head to look up at him. "You’re really that easy to please?"

Max smirked. "When it comes to you? Yeah."

A faint flush rose on her cheeks, and he resisted the urge to tease her for it. Instead, he traced a slow line along her arm, feeling the way she relaxed under his touch.

After a while, Isabelle sat up, reaching for something on the coffee table. It was a small, neatly wrapped box—he hadn’t even noticed it before. She hesitated before handing it to him.

"I know you said you didn’t want anything," she said, suddenly looking a little nervous. "But—well, I wanted to get you something anyway."

Max took the box, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he unwrapped it. Inside was a simple metal bracelet. But what caught his attention was the engraving on the inside—subtle, almost hidden.

"Vitesse et cœur."

Speed and heart.

His chest tightened.

"It’s nothing big," Isabelle said quickly. "I just—I know racing is everything to you, but I also know you drive with more than just skill. You drive with everything you have." She exhaled, fingers twisting together. "I just thought it fit."

Max stared at her for a long moment before carefully sliding the bracelet onto his wrist. It fit perfectly.

He didn’t say anything right away—just pulled her close, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"You know me too well," he murmured against her skin.

She huffed a quiet laugh. "I’d hope so, considering I’ve been secretly dating you for months."

Max chuckled, his grip on her tightening. "Best secret I’ve ever kept."

***

[hearts4sturn]

LOVE YOU TOO – CHRIS STURNIOLO

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader synopsis: in which the reader pranks chris by not saying “i love you” back warnings: lowercase intended, no mentions of y/n, fluff!!

chris had a knack for getting under her skin—every other day, without fail. innocently, of course. sometimes it was something simple, like a crumpled paper ball lobbed in her direction when she wasn’t paying attention, or a quick splash of water from his hands after washing them. nothing that would make her seriously mad, but enough to get on her nerves. and every time, she’d swear she’d get him back, that this time, she’d win.

the thing was, chris was unpredictable. he could read her too well. he could tell when she was about to pull something, anticipate her every move. it was like he was always one step ahead, like he had some sort of sixth sense for her plans. every time she tried, he’d stop it before it even started—like catching her in the act but without her even having a chance to act. it frustrated her to no end, the way he always managed to see right through her.

whenever it happened, she’d slump into a pout, a silent surrender to his constant edge. and he'd just look at her, that smirk of his stretching across his face, like he’d already won the game, without needing to say a word. it always made her want to try harder. next time, she promised herself. next time, she’d win.

tonight was different, though. as she lay on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through tiktok, her thoughts wandered. it was one of those nights where nothing could hold her attention, but she kept swiping anyway, letting her thumb flick over the endless stream of “couple-tok” videos. most of them were the same—couples pulling harmless pranks on each other, calling each other "husband" or "wife" and watching their confused reactions. she chuckled at a few, wondering what chris would do if she tried something like that. would he play along, or would he give her that look—the one that said really?

then, she stumbled on something that made her pause. a couple where the girl didn’t say "i love you" back when her boyfriend said it. his face dropped, and she could practically feel his hurt through the screen. it wasn’t dramatic, just… quiet disappointment. and that’s when it hit her.

if there was one thing she knew for sure about chris, it was that he hated uncertainty. not returning his affection? that would get to him. no question. he wore his feelings openly, and the thought of her not reciprocating them would probably mess with his head for days. she knew she could get under his skin like that.

is it too much? she thought for a moment. but then the little voice in her head reminded her of all the times he’d pulled something on her—catching her off guard, making her pout when she was supposed to win. this is just payback, she reasoned. just a little revenge.

with a self-satisfied smirk, she powered off her phone and got up, walking toward their shared room. there was no turning back now.

“baby?” she heard chris call from inside.

“yeah?” she yelled back, not moving from her spot on the couch.

“can you please, pleaseee get me a pepsi from the fridge?” he asked, his voice exaggerated for effect.

she smiled to herself, already feeling the stir of mischief. she sighed dramatically, got up, and padded toward the kitchen, her feet warm against the cool floor. opening the fridge, she pulled out a cold can of pepsi, feeling the chill bite into her fingers as she held it in her hand.

“here you go,” she said, stepping into the room.

chris was sitting at his desk, black headphones over his ears, eyes locked on his computer screen. without looking up, he took the can from her, cracking it open with that satisfying hiss.

“thanks, baby. i love you,” he muttered, settling back into his chair, already shifting his attention back to his game.

“mhm, of course,” she replied, already turning to leave. her footsteps were light, the door just in reach when she heard him pull off his headphones.

“babe?” he said, his voice suddenly more serious.

she stopped mid-step, glancing back at him, raising an eyebrow. “yeah?”

“i love you,” he said, stretching the words out slowly, like he needed to make sure she heard it.

she couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips, but she kept her face neutral. “mhm, i’ll be up in a little,” she said, already making her way toward the door again.

but he wasn’t letting it go. his expression shifted, brows furrowing in confusion, his eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to figure something out.

“babe.”

she bit back a laugh, turning slowly, giving him an innocent look. “yeah?”

“i love you,” he repeated, softer this time, more serious, like the words meant something more than usual.

she held back the grin that was threatening to break through, her eyes softening for just a second. “mhm, i know,” she said, feeling the smirk finally slip through.

chris pouted dramatically, standing up from his chair, crossing his arms. “are you mad at me? did i do something wrong?” he asked, his voice already shifting into that playful whine she knew so well. he walked up to her, taking her hands in his and looking into her eyes like she held the answers.

“no, i’m not mad,” she said, trying her best to look unaffected, though she couldn’t stop the slight shrug.

“then why aren’t you saying it back?” he whined, a little more desperate this time, the playful tone still lingering but now mixed with mock frustration. “whatever i did wrong, i’m sorry, okay?”

“chris… are you okay?” she asked, amusement dancing in her voice, though she tried to keep it in check.

“no!” he huffed, still holding her hands, swinging them back and forth like a child. “you won’t say it back!”

she raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with the effort to hold her composure. “say what?” she asked, feigning innocence, though she already knew.

“‘i love you’!” he whined again, voice rising in pitch as he leaned in closer, clearly playing up the drama.

she couldn’t hold it in anymore—she laughed, letting go of his hands to cover her mouth, enjoying the sweet satisfaction of the prank.

“what? what’s so funny?” he asked, genuinely confused, his brows furrowing.

“i got you!” she grinned, her eyes lighting up. “you keep pranking me, so i finally found a way to get you back!”

his face flickered with recognition, the smallest smile trying to break through his mock indignation. “oh.” then, with a stomp of his foot and an exaggerated sigh, he crossed his arms tightly. “now i’m mad at you.”

“oh come on, chris,” she said, trying (and failing) to turn him around by tugging gently on his arm.

“say you love me, and i’ll turn around,” he mumbled, his back still to her, though she could hear the softness creeping into his voice.

she leaned in, whispering near his ear with a teasing grin, “i love youuu!”

he turned around instantly, pulling her into a tight hug, his lips pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “i love you too,” he said, though his voice held that slight warning she knew so well, a playful scolding. “don’t ever pull something like that again.”

she laughed, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around him. “okay, okay, i won’t! but i got you good, didn’t i?”

he mumbled under his breath, his faint grin still tugging at his mouth. “yeah, yeah, whatever.”

she pulled back slightly, giving him a teasing look. “admit it, you love me more now that you’ve been pranked.”

he rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the smile spreading across his face. “you’re impossible.”

“and you love me for it,” she said with a wink, her heart light, enjoying the warmth of their little game.

wc: 1.4k

author's note: first fic everyone cheer

dividers: @toastray

© HEARTS4STURN 2025

[harrysfolklore]

charles leclerc simping over his girlfriend: a compilation

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | charles smau | charles headcanon

PART TWO

No matter where Charles went or what he did, one thing was constant - he simply could not stop talking about his girlfriend.

He was utterly smitten, and it showed through his words and massive smile every time her name came up. Fans quickly noticed Charles' habit of gushing over YN in interviews, on social media, with reporters, and even during casual interactions.

It became such a phenomenon that Formula 1 super-fans began compiling clips of Charles being a total simp for his girl into viral videos.

The most popular one was called "Charles Leclerc simping over his girlfriend: a compilation, and the 15-minute long video compiled some of the most hilarious, heartwarming, and over-the-top examples of the F1 star's borderline obsession with his girlfriend.

It opened with a clip from Charles' interview on Sky Sports before the Monaco Grand Prix. The reporter asked how special it was racing at his home circuit.

"It's amazing driving here where I grew up," Charles said with a huge smile. "But honestly, the best part is having my girlfriend YN here supporting me, this is already such a special race but having her here just adds another layer to it."

"Could you say that you have a good luck charm with you today?" the reporter asked again.

"Definitely, she's always my good luck charm."

The next clip was from Charles and Carlos' music challenge for Ferrari's YouTube channel, they had to guess the song that was playing with just a three second snippet.

"As it was, Harry Styles!" Charles said and rang the small bell that was placed in the middle of them as soon as he heard the first second of the intro.

"You've been practicing," Carlos stated as he pointed at him raising an eyebrow.

"I love this song," Charles said to the camera, "My girlfriend is obsessed with it, she plays it every day."

"And you talk about her every day," Carlos teased, elbowing him.

"I do, I do."

The video moved to show Charles with some fans, he was getting his luggage after a flight and they approached him asking for a picture, one of them filming the whole interaction.

"Of course, no problem at all," Charles replied warmly with a small smile on his face.

As he posed for a picture with the group, Charles noticed that one of the fans was wearing a Taylor Swift shirt. His eyes lit up with recognition and a smile spread across his face.

"I see you're a Taylor Swift fan," Charles remarked, pointing to the shirt. "My girlfriend loves Taylor too. She's always playing her songs around the house and talking about her."

"Wow, that's so cool!" the fan's eyes widened in surprise, "What's her favorite song?" they asked.

"I think her favorite is 'Love Story," Charles chuckled, "She says it reminds her of us."

"That's such a classic! Your girlfriend has great taste," the fan said.

"Thank you, I'll let her know you said that."

The next clip was from Charles' interview promoting his new ice cream brand called LEC, a reporter had asked him how did he come up with the creative names for each flavor.

"It was a teamwork between me and my girlfriend, actually," he replied with a smile, "She played a huge part on this project, everyone knows I could't had come up with Vanillove and Pistachi-on on my own."

The video then cut to a clip from the F1 Grill the Grid challenge, where drivers were playing 'Never Have I Ever", when asked "Have you ever missed a flight?", Charles immediately knew his answer."

"I have, more than once," he said, quickly adding, "But it wasn't my fault, my girlfriend has this long morning routine that she refuses to skip, even though she looks beautiful no matter what."

The video also included footage of Charles during a press conference before the Australia Grand Prix, a reporter asked him about his pre-race rituals.

"Well, I have a few things I like to do before getting into the car," Charles began. "But one thing that's become a bit of a tradition is a phone call with my girlfriend. No matter where we are in the world, we always find time to talk before the race if she's not there."

"What do you two usually talk about?"

"Oh, just the usual stuff," Charles replied with a grin. "She gives me some last-minute words of encouragement, tells me to be safe, that sort of thing. It's nice to hear her voice before such a big moment."

A clip form Charles' 'One week in Los Angeles' was also included, he was playing around at the basketball course shirtless.

"No way!" he said after he missed the basket again, "This is making me look really bad, I need to impress my girl."

The camera panned to her for a moment, and Charles sent a wink her way.

"Are you impressed, love? he asked, throwing the ball and missing once again.

"Very, but not by your basketball skills."

The compilation went on and on, clip after clip of Charles finding any opportunity to mention his girlfriend and proclaim his love for her. From the most casual conversations to the highest-pressure interviews, he just could not help himself from gushing.

As the video ended, the caption displayed: "Get yourself a man who loves you like Charles loves YN."

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Under the Mistletoe 2

SUMMARY: You told your classmates about Christmas and the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. But what if it's someone else helping you get a kiss from your crush? Or your crush trying to get a kiss from you? Or even prevent you from kissing someone else?

CHARACTERS: Scarabia (Kalim; Jamil); Pomefiore (Vil; Epel; Rook); Ignihyde (Idia + Ortho) & Diasomnia (Malleus; Silver; Sebek; Lilia)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kissing

WORD COUNT: An average of 390 words per character.

COMMENTS: As I believe some characters would be more direct and others would try to beat around the bush some have more words than others for this reason.

The Ignihyde part is the longest because it's Idia and Ortho together. With Ortho is platonic of course, he just gives you a present, Idia is the one under the mistletoe.

I hope you all enjoy and have a Merry Christmas. 🎁

Under the Mistletoe 1 - Heartslabyul (Riddle, Ace; Deuce; Cater; Trey); Savanaclaw (Leona; Jack; Ruggie) & Octavinelle (Azul; Jade; Floyd)

CONTEXT: As the end of the year approaches and the snow begins to fall, you comment to your schoolmates that it is reminding you of a holiday that exists in your world called Christmas. They get curious and ask you more about it, you talk about the gifts, the tree, getting the family together, etc.

Until Cater asks if there wouldn't be any romantic traditions on such a cute holiday, and the first thing that comes to your mind is the tradition of two people having to kiss if they both happen to be under a mistletoe or holly.

You even say that there are people who purposely place mistletoe in a strategic spot to attract the person they want to kiss and pretend it was an accident. A very popular Christmas romance troupe.

Cater was the one who told Kalim what you said about Christmas, and consequently about the mistletoe tradition. But that wasn't what he was thinking about the time he went to visit you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“HEY [Y/N]!” He greets you with his radiant smile. “Happy... um... what was the name of that holiday you told Cater about again?”

You say it's called Christmas and the greeting is ‘Merry Christmas’.

“Merry Christmas! Wait, I don't know if it's today... It isn’t? Then let me know when it is so I can wish you one, okay? Cater told me you felt a little homesick when you remembered that holiday and about the tradition of exchanging gifts. So I wanted to give you one to cheer you up.”

He hands you a present wrapped in shiny paper. You thank him and accept, but say you don't have a gift for him.

“Oh, don't worry about that. Seeing you smile is already the best gift you can give me.”

You open the gift, it's a turquoise cardigan with white jasmine flowers.

“It is of great quality and excellent for keeping you warm. That's what Jamil said. He helped me choose a gift for you and said the best one would be something that would help you during these cold days. Did you like it?”

You say that you did and show that by trying it right away.

“It looks so good on you! And makes you look even cuter than usual.” He smiles innocently.

You two hear a sound above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

“Mistletoe? Cater had mentioned something about this but I don't remember what it was about. It's another tradition of your holiday, isn't it? What does it mean?”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe. He smiles widely and blushes a little.

“I don't mind kissing you at all! I mean... I would even like to. If you want to do it too of course.”

You confirm and you move closer to each other. You will be able to feel his smile during the kiss.

Ace was the one who told Jamil about the things you said about Christmas, at the last basketball club meeting before winter break. He took advantage of the first opportunity he had to go to Ramshackle Dorm while Kalim was at the Pop Music Club.

“Hello, [Y/N].” Jamil greets you when you open the door. “I heard about the holiday you have in your world this time of year and that you were feeling a little homesick. How are you today?”

You say you're fine, just homesick about some things.

“I see. Ace told me that one of your holiday traditions was exchanging gifts. Is that correct?” You confirm. “I'm glad, because I got one for you.” He takes his hands from behind his back and hands you a nicely wrapped present. “Don't worry about getting one for me. My only intention is to cheer you up a little.”

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, suspicious. He chuckles and then smirks

“Okay, maybe that's not really the only intention. But please open it and see if you like it.”

You thank him and open the present, it's a burgundy and black hoodie exactly like the one Jamil wears under his school uniform blazer. You look at him and he's smiling smugly.

“You already told me that you liked my hoodie, so I thought you might like to have one like it. This one is also very warm for days like these. So, what did you think?”

You say you like it, slightly flustered and even comment that it's possible that people think you're actually wearing his hoodie.

“Oh, you're right. That hadn't even occurred to me.” He says, still with a smirk on his face. “By the way, you should start thinking about pruning the plants outside your dorm, some are already growing here at the door.” He points up and you see a mistletoe growing from the wall, which you are almost certain is not naturally possible.

“Wasn't mistletoe part of another tradition of yours? I'm pretty sure Ace mentioned something about it.”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe.

“Ah, yes, that was it. Well, if you want, I have no objection in participating in this tradition of yours.”

You show that you would also like to do it with him, you get closer to each other and he captures your lips.

Vil heard about what you said about Christmas from Rook, who had apparently been eavesdropping on your conversation. And obviously he being who he is would mention the mistletoe tradition. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N].” Vil greets you when you open the door. “I heard what you said about a holiday in your world that happens at this time of year. Now I understand why you seemed a little sad. Are you too homesick?”

You say you're fine, just homesick about some things.

“Perhaps if you fulfilled some of your traditions it will help make you feel better?” Vil suggests. “Rook told me about your tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. Is that correct?” You confirm. “In that case, I have a proposal for you, sweet potato.” He smirks. “If you manage to find a sprig of mistletoe and make us both meet under it, I will allow you to fulfill your tradition with a kiss of mine. Be aware that to receive any kiss from me you have to prove yourself, especially one on the lips. Show me how much you want one before I leave for home and I shall reward you with it.” He winks at you and leaves.

You still spend a lot of time looking for a mistletoe tree until you discover that there is one in the Botanical Garden. But it was only on the next day that you managed to run over there and pick a sprig of mistletoe with or without permission and then run to try to find Vil at Pomefiore.

You ask where Vil is and one of the students tells you he was in his room. You go over there, place the sprig of mistletoe on top of the door frame and knock. Vil is surprised to see you and smiles.

“Hello sweet potato. I was just about to leave to go home. Don't tell me you've given up on our little game?”

You smile and point up so he can see the sprig of mistletoe stuck to the door frame of his room. He looks at you angrily.

“And you still dare to defile the aesthetics of our dormitory, especially right outside my bedroom door?!” But then laughs heartily. “Ha ha ha, How daring! Or should I say cheeky? I see you're smiling. Did this little challenge cheer you up?”

Now you realize that entertaining you a little to cheer you up was his real plan.

“Well, you managed to complete the challenge. It's only fair that I reward you.” He holds your chin and kisses you masterfully.

Epel wasn't with you when you told the others about Christmas, but he asked Ace and Deuce if you were okay because he had been seeing you looking a little down. That's when they told him about your holiday, but they didn't mention the mistletoe tradition. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Hi [Y/N].” Epel greets you with a cute smile. “I heard you were feeling a little down because you were homesick. Ace and Deuce told me about a holiday you have in your world at this time of year and that exchanging gifts is one of the traditions. Is it true?” You confirm and his smile becomes even more enthusiastic. “Heh heh. In that case, I've got you one.” He takes his hands from behind his back and hands you a present.

You thank him and accept the gift but say you don't have any for him.

“Don't worry about that. I just wanted to cheer you up, you don't have to give me anything. Go on, open it! I'm sure you'll love it.”

You open the present, it's a lavender knitted poncho with an apple pattern.

“I have to admit something.” He tells you a little embarrassed. “The truth is that this poncho was mine, it was made by my Meemaw. Since it is winter I wanted to give you something from Harveston, but there was no time to ask my family to send something. So I decided to give you something of my own. I’m sure that Meemaw would be happy to know that if I gave this poncho to anyone it was to you. Don't worry, I have many more. Do you like it?”

You say you like it and he says he's glad. Then the two of you hear a sound above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe. Epel asks you if you know why they are doing that and you tell him about the tradition of the kiss under the mistletoe. He immediately blushes!

“K-K-KISS?! Why are they doing this to us then?” He sees you getting slightly flustered. “Wait... you...” He takes a deep breath to gain confidence. “If you want to follow your tradition, I... I don't mind.”

You move closer to him and close your eyes. It takes him a moment to gain enough courage to kiss you.

Rook overheard your conversation with Ace, Deuce and others, and he was immediately smitten by such a heartwarming holiday. And even more interested he became when you told Cater about the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. A delightful opportunity! That same day he knocks on the door of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Bonjour, Trickster!” Rook greets you at the height of his good mood. “It came to my ears that you were feeling homesick due to a holiday that you have in your world at this time of year that we don't have in Twisted Wonderland. I heard about some of the traditions you talked about and I thought it was merveilleux! I am eager to know more about this Christmas holiday. Would you be so kind as to grant me a conversation on the subject?”

You say you don't mind or even that you'd love to and invite him in. The two of you talk for so long that you end up telling him practically everything you know about Christmas. So much so that it's only when Rook sees the sun setting that he realizes how much time has passed and apologizes for stealing so much of your time.

“What if I made you dinner? I feel it is the least I can do for the time you have so generously given me.”

You both go to the kitchen because you either insist on helping him prepare dinner or you want to supervise him. What you don't see is the hand of one of the ghosts appearing with a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling and Rook taking it from his hands.

“A poisonous plant is not something advisable in a kitchen, don't you think Trickster?” You turn around and see the mistletoe in his hands. “However...” He walks towards you, getting very close and looking at you with his hunter's gaze as he raises the sprig above both of your heads. “This is an excellent opportunity for you to show me in practice what your mistletoe tradition is like.”

He won't kiss you, he wants you to do it. He loves it when you're cheeky enough to take the initiative. But once you do, be prepared for him to show you how much he likes you.

Ortho overheard your conversation and showed up halfway through to join in and find out more. He was the one who told his big brother who seemed to dislike such a holiday. Boring, too lovey-dovey, an excuse for family members who can't stand each other to get together once a year to pretend they care, were some of the ways he described his conclusion about this holiday.

Idia wondered why you would miss a holiday like that and Ortho said that maybe you missed having loved ones around, or maybe you're sad that you can't share that heartwarming spirit with anyone. Spending a date where you can celebrate good feelings with the ones you love is a little sad to spend alone. Especially if you have people there that you would like to spend it with.

Idia had mixed feelings about Ortho's hypotheses and asked if he really thought there was anyone at that school or in Twisted Wonderland that you would like to spend this holiday with.

“You'll never know if you don't ask. He he.” Was Ortho's response.

Ortho knew that his big brother and you liked each other, he could read your vital signs when you were near each other or talking about each other, but he also knew that it was easier to convince you to go to Ignihyde than Idia to go to Ramshackle Dorm.

Ortho asked if you could go to Ignihyde to help him with something before he and Idia go home for the winter break. Grim didn't want to go because he didn't want to run the risk of Idia wanting to pet him and treat him like a cat.

When you arrive you ask Ortho what he needs from you.

“Actually, I'm sorry I lied to you. I don't need help with anything. I just wanted to surprise you. I've been thinking about what you said about Christmas and how you've been feeling a little down, so I decided to follow one of your traditions to try to cheer you up a little. Please check out that mobile game you love.”

You pick up your phone, open the game and see that there is something in your Gift Box. It is a key that guarantees you an SSR card. You ask if that was him and how he did that. He gives you a mischievous look and says you don't need to worry about it, he has his tricks.

“I wanted to give you a present, you know because of your tradition of exchanging gifts. Did you like it?”

You say you loved it, but you don't have any gifts for him.

“Don't worry about it, this was nothing. But if you want to do something as a gift back maybe you can help me with my big brother if you don't mind?”

He tells you that he also wants to surprise Idia and that all you have to do is convince him to open his bedroom door. Discussing with Ortho he has an idea: "I know! Why don't you tell him you have some Christmas sweets for him to try? He loves sweets!”

The two of you put this plan into action. It takes a while before Idia decides to open the door to see if you are telling the truth or not. The two of you are the only people he doesn't mind opening the bedroom door to see face to face. He sees that you don't have any sweets and Ortho admits that it was his idea to trick him.

“I don't know why I still have glimmers of hope IRL” He says, unbothered.

Ortho laughs and flies over your and Idia's heads and holds a sprig of mistletoe between the two of you. When he reminds Idia what he told him about that tradition of yours, the tips of his hair turn pink and he starts to stutter. You need to be the first one to reveal that you would like to fulfill that tradition with him.

“W-with me? Listen, you don't need to lower your standards that much just because you pity me.”

You stamp your foot saying that it have nothing to do with it and for him to stop with that self-depressing talk.

“Well, then you do it.” He smirks. “If you really want it, go ahead. Look, I'll even lower myself to be on your level. As if you were that-”

You shut him up with the kiss, and eventually he pulls you into his room and closes the door leaving his little brother in the hallway.

Lilia was the one who told Malleus, after Cater told him, what you said about Christmas. The conversation focused more on the exchange of gifts, but Lilia made a point of mentioning the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, Child of Man.” Malleus greets you with a smile when you open the door. “How are you feeling today?”

You say you're fine and ask why he's asking that.

“I heard you were feeling homesick due to a holiday of yours that isn't celebrated here in Twisted Wonderland. What was it named?” You answer. “Ah yes, Christmas. Lilia told me that one of your traditions was exchanging gifts, so I brought you one.” He makes a gift appear wrapped in fancy looking paper and hands it to you.

You thank him, but say you don't have any for him because you didn't know he was going to give you a present.

“Worry not. I am aware that this gesture of mine is quite sudden. You needn't to give me a present in return, seeing you smiling after these days of feeling down will be a good enough gift.”

You open the present, it's a black hooded jacket. He asks you to try it on and when you do, you discover that on the hood there are two horns just like his. He smiles fondly.

“Lilia would be deeply envious of your cuteness right now.” Malleus comments.

“Indeed, but I will allow my crown to be taken from me this time.” Lilia appears, upside down and above the two of you.

“Lilia? What are you doing here? I thought you were packing your things so we could leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, worry not, Malleus. I have plenty of time for that. But for this...”

He smiles mischievously and stretches out his arm as he holds a sprig of mistletoe over both of your heads. He even reminds Malleus of what he said about that tradition of yours.

“Oh, I see. A kiss from me?” He smirks at you. “Practically everyone is afraid to even come near me. [Y/N], would you be brave enough to have this tradition of your be fulfilled by me?”

You step forward and show him how much you would love that. He laughs heartily. He leans in, you close your eyes, but then you feel him pull you with him into the house and close the door.

“Forgive my rudeness but I would prefer to do this with a little more privacy.” And finally he kisses you as if he had wanted to do it for a long time.

Lilia was the one who told Silver, after Cater told him, what you said about Christmas, especially about the tradition of exchanging gifts. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N].” Silver greets you with his usual neutral expression. “How are you?”

You say you're fine and ask why he's asking.

“I heard you were feeling a little down for being homesick. I think you mentioned a holiday in your world that takes place at this time of year. What was it named?” You answer. “Christmas. Is it true that one of the Christmas traditions is exchanging gifts?” You confirm. “I'm glad I didn't misheard it, then. Here, I brought you a present.”

He takes a cute little box out of his pocket and hands it to you. You thank him, but say you don't have any gifts for him.

“You don't have to worry about that. I'm not offering you this gift to get one in return. I just hope that trying to recreate a tradition of yours can bring you a little joy.” He gives you that rare smile of his.

You open the present, Inside the box is a small square of black styrofoam that holds a silver ring.

“Sorry for not being much.”

You say he doesn't have to apologize because it was a beautiful ring. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your finger. Suddenly, you both hear a chirping above you, look up and see a little bird holding a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

“Mistletoe. Sorry, wasn't there another tradition of yours that involved mistletoe?”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe. He widens his eyes and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, I see. Um... If you want, I don't mind fulfilling this tradition with you.” He smiles. “In fact, I would be honored to do so if you allow me.”

You take a step forward showing that you want him to do it too and he kisses you gently.

Lilia was the one who told Sebek, after Cater told him, what you said about Christmas. But Sebek didn't seem very interested in the subject until Lilia tells him about the mistletoe tradition, however he tells Sebek that you are obliged to kiss the other person. This not only arouses his interest but also his indignation and revolt.

The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he goes to Ramshackle Dorm first thing in the morning.

“HUMAN!” Sebek startles you when you open the door. “I heard about your mistletoe tradition. You must be alert so as not to come across a sprig of such or a tree. I have taken the liberty of examining every paths you may go through and ensuring that you are free of this plant.” He has a smug and proud smile on.

You ask what he's talking about, confused and maybe even still a little sleepy.

“Lillia-sama told me all about the holiday you have in your world this time of year and the tradition of you being forced to kiss any subject you meet under a mistletoe. I am helping you to avoid such unconsenting tradition. You can start thanking me now.”

You tell him that the tradition of two people kissing each other under the mistletoe is true, but that it is not mandatory. It’s just something to be fun for both people, so the person can refuse to do it if they feel uncomfortable.

He asks if you are implying that Lilia deceived him on purpose. You think that maybe that is exactly what happened, but decide to say that maybe Lilia misunderstood or that whoever told him gave him the wrong information.

“Of course! Some humans are not even capable of transmitting non-erroneous information.”

“And now that we've got that sorted...” You both hear a familiar voice above you, look up and see Lilia floating while holding a sprig of mistletoe above your heads. “Why don't you two try fulfilling this tradition? Like [Y/N] said, it's just a little fun thing. Kee hee.”

Sebek blushes immediately! “I... ugh... Human!” He recomposes himself. “If that is what you wish, I have no objection to carrying out your tradition.” He is still blushing.

You approach him and show that you don't object either, in fact, you would even like him to be the one to help you fulfill that tradition. Lilia leaves the sprig of mistletoe hanging over the door frame and disappears to give you more privacy. He needs a moment to prepare, but once he does he goes all in.

Cater was the one who told Lilia what you said about Christmas. Especially the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon [Y/N].” Lilia greets you with a sweet smile when you open the door. “Cater told me you were feeling a little sad for being homesick. I came to see how you were.”

You say you're fine and that your homesickness is because of a holiday that exists in your world.

“Oh, yes, he told me a lot about it. He said one of your traditions is exchanging gifts, so I brought you one.” He makes a present appear and gives it to you. “Don't worry about giving me one back. I know this gesture is very last minute. If this can cheer you up a little then that would be a great gift.”

You thank him and open the present, It is a matching set of pink gloves, scarf and hat with black bats pattern. He asks if you liked it and you say yes while trying on the scarf.

“Aw, you look so cute with it. I'm almost jealous. Oh, by the way, didn't another tradition of yours involve mistletoe?”

You confirm and tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe. You ask why he suddenly remembered that. He points up with a sly smile, you look and see a sprig of mistletoe floating above your heads.

“I hope it's not against the rules to be a plastic one. I wanted to keep it as a souvenir of this day. Is it okay?”

You say there is no problem, it is still valid.

“In that case, what if you make this your gift to me? I would love to share this traditional moment with you. Nothing would make me happier than learning more about your culture first hand.”

You get closer to each other and he kisses you sweetly.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[yuvany]

#GIRLFRIEND PRIVILEGES

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 and certain privileges you have becuase they love you ｡

OT7 ENHYPEN x f ! reader CONTENT / WARNING(S): fluff + est relashionship + pet names + kisses + skinship & not proofread WORD COUNT : 835 ꒰ CHECK THIS .ᐟ ꒱

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

Heeseung asks you if you'd like to tag along going to the studio and record a new song. You of course accept the invite happily. In the studio, you sit with the producer, observing Heeseung from behind a glass window. He puts his headphones on like he always did, and turns to you and waves him hand your way with a smile, and you blow him a kiss. "What do you think about this?" He asked after listening to the parts with him, his arm snaking around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. "It sounds good, babe." You say, and Heeseung nods, giving you a peck on the cheek.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

You had blurted out that you were craving a stake, and Jay who heard this, made a mental note for later. You returned home from a long day and slumped your weight onto the soft couch, pulling a pillow from your side onto your lap to hug as you loudly exhale and the smell of something cooking in the kitchen catches your interest. You rush over there and see that Jay had plated the table nicely, and in the oven you see something cooking. "Welcome home, babe" he says and you walk over to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck and kiss his cheek. "This is such a delight to come home to."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

You and him played basketball in the soft and crisp evening. Layla tagging along for her walk, now running free from the dog leash. You go and sit on a bench after becoming exhausted from running after Jake who wouldn't let you have the ball. He sees this, and calls out for you, catching your attention so that you'd look at him. "Look!" He shoots the basketball right in the basket before running over to you. "That one was for you, angel!" He cheers, and you clap with him. "I also wanna play, you know?" You point out, and Jake quickly nods before running after the ball and handing it to you with a smile after returning, his hand lingering on yours for a while.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

You had come home and heaved a sigh from your chest as you threw your shoes to the side. Sunghoon called out, wanting to confirm that it was you. You replied and made your way into the livingroom. "Hey babe, look at this." He says, and you look over at all the shopping bags he had collected during just one day. "Why so many bags, hoon?" You asked him, surprised, but Sunghoon calmly lends you one bag and says, "I really couldn't choose one thing to give you since they all reminded me of you:" You invite him into a hug and he has a geeky smile plastered on his face.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

He lets you take his hoodies without saying anything. It was as if it was something natural, an unspoken rule between the two of you. At first, he might've raised an eyebrow at this action, but now? Not anymore. When you spend time together, and he sees that you're freezing, Sunoo throws a hoodie your way. "You're freezing, take this sweetie." You pull it over your head and mutter a soft 'thank you'. When it is time to leave, you accidentally left with his hoodie on and it wasn't until you returned home that you realised it, so you called him to inform him. "No need to give it back. I want you to have it." He says into his phone.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

Jungwon has nice hair, of course. So when you guys cuddle together, him in your arms as you both watch a movie together, your fingers can't help but to be allured to his head. Your fingers comb through each hair strand, massaging his scalp and twirling it around your pointer all while your focus is on the screen. Jungwon moves slightly, and you realised what you were doing and pull your pair of hands away from him. He turns around with an arched eyebrow. "What happened?" He asked. "I thought you didn't like it babe." He giggles and says, "No way, it felt really nice actually." Jungwon hold your hand in his and guides it to his hair.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Riki takes pictures of you, both when you ask him to and not. You and him checked out some areas in town that no one ever went to because it had been left abandoned for a while. The tunnel you two walked under looked mysterious with all the overgrown roots surrounding it. "This looks interesting." You say, and walk in front of him, letting the excitement lead you. Riki pulls out his phone and snaps a picture, and it somehow ends up really nice. On the other hand, if you found yourself on a fancy dinner, you'd ask, "Please take a picture of me, 'ki." You hand him your phone. "Of course, Pretty girl, since you asked so nicely."

[toasttt11]

sweet nothing

summary: five times jack knew she was the one and one time someone told him she was the one

jack hughes x reader

One

Jack walked around the corner heading to his favorite local cafe and his favorite place to get his morning coffee especially when he has practice as it is on the way to the rink but also close to his apartment that he can walk to get coffee on his days off.

Jack stumbled into someone feeling a hot liquid spill over the other person and his hands shot out to catch the women he stumbled into.

“I am so sorry.” Jack quickly apologized seeing he had ran into to her and her coffee is all over her now, She looked up shyly and Jack’s breath caught in his throat, he has seen many beautiful woman but the woman in front him right now was the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“It’s okay.” She softly spoke sending the very attractive male a shy smile.

“At least let me make it up to you and buy you a coffee.” Jack quickly asked looking down at her hopefully, he didn’t want to part with her yet especially not even knowing her name yet.

She let out a shy sigh, “Oh you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Jack sternly told her giving her puppy eyes making her look at him and reluctantly nod, Jack beamed and held out his hand, “I’m Jack.”

She softly grabbed his calloused hand shaking it softy smiling at him as she introduced herself.

Jack blinked at her very soft touch and hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he got to touch her.

“Come on i owe you a coffee.” Jack beamed and rested a light hand on her lower back as they walked back to the cafe.

She smiled softly thinking Jack reminded her of a puppy. Jack opened the door to the coffee shop and let her walk inside first.

Jack happily followed her to the front counter where she ordered another coffee and than he ordered his own and paid for their drinks.

He grabbed napkins for her and helped her ferry off her sweater making her flash him a sweet smile that just competently melted his heart and he wanted to do anything to get that smile flashed at him again.

The two walked over to the other counter waiting for their coffee once they finished drying off her sweater, “Thank you.” She softly spoke to Jack giving him an appreciate smile.

“Of course.” Jack beamed brightly back at her, he got another smile from her.

They grabbed their coffees and Jack bit his lip not wanting to leave her yet, “Are you busy?” Jack blurted out making her turn to him, “I thought maybe we could talk.” Jack shrugged looking nervous but had a hopeful smile on his face.

“Sure.” She easily agreed making Jack’s smile widen, they walked over to an empty table and sat down.

“So what do you?” She asked curiously sipping on her warm coffee.

Jack blinked and realized she really didn’t know who he was and he smiled even more, “I uh play hockey.”

“Really that’s cool.” She smiled softly, “Do you like it?” She titled her head curiously.

Jack smiled enjoying the question she asked as it’s never a people ask genuinely, “I love it. My brothers both play too.”

She watched Jack’s smile get softer as he spoke about his brothers, “Woah that’s awesome. Who do you play for?” She didn’t know a lot about sports as she has never been really interested.

“I play for the New Jersey Devils.” Jack smiled telling her enjoying that she doesn’t know him as Jack Hughes alternate captain of the New Jersey Devils but as just Jack.

She furrowed her brows having heard that team and realized he played in the NHL, she doesn’t know much but living in Jersey she has learned a few of the team’s names, “For the NHL? that’s incredible.” She smiled softly at him.

Jack smiled in response, “What about you?” Jack leaned closed in curiosity wanting to learn everything and anything about her.

“Oh i’m a writer.” She softly anwsered his question, it was the reason she moved from sunny Florida to the New Jersey area when she started writing her first book with a publishing company and she has never left since.

“Really!” Jack exclaimed looking awed, “Oh! That’s why your name was familiar!” Jack realized why he thought her name was so familiar when she introduced her self, he has read all of her books and they are the few books he actually loves to reread.

“Your books are incredible.” Jack had started reading her books when the first one came out around his draft and he has loved every single one.

She shyly smiled, “Thank you.” She mumbled her cheeks bright red, no matter how many compliments she gets on her books she always flushes bright red every time.

Jack’s face softened seeing her shy smile and red cheeks and knew there was no way he was going to stop until he got to be her boyfriend, even if they just met a few minutes ago he knew something was special about her and had never felt this way from anyone else.

Jack knew she was the one and was sure they will be together one day.

Two

Jack rubbed his face as he sat down in his car after a long and exhausting game. The past few games have been terrible and all brutal loses and Jack feels as if they are never catching a break.

He was sore more than usual and just exhausted physically and mentally.

All he wanted was to see his little book worm and hopefully his future girlfriend. Jack has been talking to her everyday for the past two months since he met her at the coffee shop and every day he knows more and more that she’s it for him but all he needs to confess his feelings first for that to happen.

He has been at her place a few times and she has been at this place a face times so he hoped she wouldn’t mind him random showing up.

He drove the short drive to her apartment and nodded at the doorman as he walked in and took the elevator to her floor.

He ran a ran through his soaking wet hair and walked down the hallway quickly to her door, he knocked on the door and waited for her.

She looked up from her couch where she reading a book hearing a knock, she wasn’t expecting anyone. She stood up and walked to the door and peeked through seeing a tired Jack. She opened the door, “Jack?” She gently said titling her head softly.

Jack let out a long sigh seeing her, he stepped forward and just hugged her tightly and his head rested on her shoulder.

She only blinked and wrapped her arms around him tightly, she took a step back with him in her arms and shut her door.

She stood in her entrance holding him gently and rubbing his back just holding him with no questions asked.

Jack let out a soft breath as he felt himself relax more and more in her arms, her warm and comforting embrace. He’s never felt as comfortable as he does when he is in her arms.

Jack reluctantly lifted his head off her shoulder keeping his arms around her, “Hi.” Jack whispered tiredly.

“Hello.” She softly whispered back her thumb gently rubbing his cheek bone. “I missed you.” She whispered to him giving him a cute little smile. He had been on a few day road trip and when he got back they haven’t had time to see each other yet.

Jack’s face softened hearing her words, “I missed you too, so much.” Jack whispered back, “So much that i think i actually annoyed Nico about how much i talked about.” Jack admitted to her. He may of actually made Nico annoyed.

She blinked feeling her face soften even more, “You talk about me?” She was surprised, she didn’t know if Jack had say anything about her to anyone, not they she expected it but still.

“I can’t shut up about you.” Jack shrugged softly, he’s not stopped talked about her to anyone since the moment he met her.

She smiled softly feeling her cheeks burning, “Oh.” She mumbled.

Jack smiled softly as he saw how red her cheeks were getting, “I like talking about you.” He admitted to her, his hand going up to cup her cheek making her lean into his touch.

She smiled softly at his words her eyes peering up at him hopefully, “Yeah?”

“Of course.” Jack nodded seriously, “I gotta talk about my girl.” Jack added with a small smile and a hint of nerves in his words.

She blinked her smile growing, “Your girl?” She asked hopefully, she’s been waiting for Jack to ask her out for a while now.

“If you let me.” Jack asked hopefully looking at her so incredibly softly, “I would really like to be your boyfriend.”

She nodded with a beaming smile, “I would like that too.” Her words made Jack beam.

He brought his other hand up to her face so he cupped her face from both sides mad leaned down and finally pressed his lips softly to hers.

They both let out happy sighs as they finally kissed.

After a few moments they pulled away and kept their foreheads touching until Jack pulled away to yawn.

“Come on let’s get you to bed.” She grabbed his hand flashing him a soft smile as she pulled his through her apartment. He happily let her pull him anywhere.

Jack luckily had threw on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt after his post game shower instead of his suit so he could got straight to bed.

She pulled him into her room and pulled back her covers and gently pushed Jack into her bed. She laid down next to him and opened her arm letting Jack cuddle and rest his head on her chest. She brought her hand up to his wet hair and gently ran her fingers through his hair.

“You’re the best.” Jack tiredly mumbled a he felt his eyes closing even quicker from her running her hands through his hair.

She smiled softly at his words and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Sleep baby.” She soothing mumbled watching as his eyes fluttered shut and stayed close.

Three

She walked through the hallways of the prudential center looking for the suite Jack told her to go to. She was wearing a pair of black leather pants with Jack’s black Devils jersey and a pair of black heeled boots.

Jack didn’t ask her to wear his jersey but he did leave out on the bed for her if she wanted to wear it. She knew he would be thrilled if she wore her jersey.

She walked into the suite and saw a lot of other woman and a few children and knew Jack put her in the suite with the other players families.

A blonde girl looked up and beamed seeing her walk in, “You must be Jack’s girl.” She walked over to her, “I’m Nicole. I’m so glad you here! Jack doesn’t stop talking about.” Nicole giggled as she shook hands with her.

Nicole has heard all about her from Jack and from Jesper telling her that Jack doesn’t shut up.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She flashed a soft smile at Nicole.

“Come on i’ll introduce you to everyone.” Nicole smiled widely as she looped arms with her and took her around the suite introducing everyone to Jack’s girl.

She was finished getting introduced by the time the game started and she sat down watching Jack skate on to the ice.

This was her first time ever going to hockey game and she’s only started watching hockey when she met Jack and she only watches his games.

Jack looked at up at the family suite and beamed so brightly seeing his girl sitting in there and he could see his jersey on her which just made everything better. He waved getting her attention and he watched her smile once she saw him.

He blew her kiss and he wished he was close enough he could see her cheeks get rosy like they always do.

“She came?” Nico asked amused as he nudged Jack teasingly when he saw Jack starring at the suite with a very happy smile. Nico has never seen Jack lovesick until her and it was honestly really sweet to see.

Jack proudly nodded. He skated away and grabbed a puck from warm up’s and handed it one of the equipment crew and asked them to hold it for him.

He got ready for the game to start.

She was blushing bright red by the attention on her from Jack blowing her a kiss.

“When did you meet?” Kristen Haula softly asked. Erik had told her all about the girl Jack has been talking about for months now, longer than he has ever talked about anyone ever.

“Almost five months ago.” She softly answered, she was glad she got hot coffee spilled on her that day because it gave her Jack.

“How long have you been together?” Cat Toffoli asked the girl softly, she could tell she was in the shyer side but incredibly sweet.

“Three months.” She told her, smiling as she spoke.

She answered a few more questions before the start of the game.

She softly cheered as Jack got a goal in the first period and she felt her face blush at Jack waving at her after his goal.

She loved watching Jack play in person for the first time, it was so much more than watching on the TV, it was like she got to see another side of Jack tonight and she loved it.

The second period started and within minutes Jack scored another goal and blew a kiss up at her that she softly catched and she knew Jack caught her actions because if it was even possible his grin got even brighter.

She shook her head incredibly fond as Jack scored his third goal and pointed at her, she blew him a tiny kiss for his amazing performance making him smile and his ears turn pink.

She walked with Nicole down to the locker room once the game was over and the Devils had won and Jack had gotten a hat trick.

She talked a bit more with Nicole as she waited for Jack.

Jack was the first one out of the locker room and immediately went straight to his girl. He grinned as he walked to her and could read his name on her back as he snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her from behind and spun her around twice making her giggle.

He set her back down and spun her around his arms so she was facing him, “Hi.” Jack leaned his face closer to hers and whispered softly.

“Hi.” She softly whispered back as she brushed back down of his wet hair off his forehead, “You played incredibly.” She praised him making his perk up, he gets compliments all the time on his hockey but coming from her it meant the world to him.

“Thank you” Jack fondly smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, “I got you something.” Jack mischievously told her as he grabbed something out of his suit pocket ask handed it to her.

She smiled softly as she took the puck from his hand seeing he had wrote the date on the side, “Thank you.” She softly told and kissed his cheek gently making him smile happily at her word and affection, She tucked the puck into her pocket.

“Jacky boy!” Nate beamed as he walked over with Nico, he shook Jack’s shoulders grinning mischievously as he looked at the girl in front of Jack, “Are you going to introduce us?” Nate beamed excitedly he has heard all about her from Jack.

“Baby this is Nico and Bast.” Jack introduced them to her wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Hi.” She softly spoke to them, “I’ve heard a lot about you both.” She loves hearing Jack talk about his teammates and with how much he talks about them she feels like she knows all of them personally.

“He talks about you all the time.” Nico calmly told her but grinning teasingly at Jack.

She blushed and smiled up at Jack slightly teasing, in a way only Jack can get her to tease.

Jack fondly rolled his eyes, “So i like talking about my girl.” Jack doesn’t care he would happily talk about her anytime.

She just smiled at him making Nate and Nico share a look and had a feeling that Jack has found his a good one and someone who they would be seeing from now on.

She waved bye to Jack’s teammates before Jack led her out of the arena.

His eyes glanced to her back and looked at how his name was across her back and all he wanted to was make that her name too.

Jack wasn’t going to stop until he got her to be his wife even if they have only been dating for three months, Jack knew she was the one.

Four

Luke has just gotten into New Jersey a few days ago and had just gotten back from his first game.

He was staying with Jack and of course he knew all about Jack’s girlfriend and he noticed immediately how much Jack is on his phone now and how smiley is he when he is on his phone. Jack also just seems genuinely happier lately.

Luke was chilling on the couch after the game in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie when Jack came down the hallway and into the living room, “You hungry?” Jack raised an eyebrow in question.

“I could eat.” Luke answered back easily stretching out his arms, he could always eat.

“Come on there’s someone i want you to meet and you’ll get food.” Jack fondly rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his excitement to where he was going making Luke realize he was most likely going to meet Jack’s girlfriend.

Luke nodded standing up and slid a pair of shoes on and followed Jack out of the apartment and into the car.

Jack drove them only a few minutes away and into an another apartment building.

Luke followed Jack through the lobby and he noticed how the workers all seemed to know Jack and followed him into the elevator.

“I’m meeting your girlfriend.” Luke bluntly stated not asking because he knew.

“You are.” Jack nodded, “She won’t be able to meet mom and dad during playoffs and i want her to meet a piece of my family.” Jack told Luke truthfully.

Jack was disappointed she won’t be able to go to playoff games as she is going on a book tour for her new book but he was proud of her and would never ask her to cancel something in her career for his career.

Luke nodded and decided to not tease his brother for once sensing that Jack just genuinely her to meet his family.

Jack walked up to a door and pulled out a key and unlocked the door and that made Luke raise an eyebrow, Jack had a key.

Luke followed Jack into the apartment and made a sound smelling something amazing.

Jack chuckled hearing the sound and knowing Luke smelt the food, “Trust me it tastes even better.” Jack has had a lot of people cook for him but no one has ever been better than her.

Once she found out Jack has a strict diet she made sure to make foods that follow his diet but they still taste so good and she’s always making him some type of healthy dessert that still tastes insanely good and he can eat as many as he wants.

“Jack?” She called out from the kitchen hearing the door unlocked, she took a deep breath feeling slightly nervous as she was about meet Jack’s brother.

“Hey you.” Jack softly spoke as he walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arm around her from behind in and kissed her cheek.

“Baby this is Luke.” Jack proudly introduced two of his favorite people to one another.

“Hi!” She smiled softly and shook Luke’s hand, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Jack.”

Luke smiled at the and shook her hand gently back, “Hi, i think i might of heard more about you from Jack.” Luke teased his brother.

She smiled and chuckled softly at Luke’s teasing and Jack’s fond eye roll.

“Do you need any help?” Jack asked her sweetly still holding her from behind.

“No i finished everything.” She set her hands over Jack’s hands and squeezed his hands softly, “Luke do you like spaghetti and meatballs?” She asked hopefully.

Luke nodded quickly looking excited for any food but especially spaghetti, spaghetti is one of his favorite meals.

Luke watched as the two interaction and smiled softly being able to see immediately how in love Jack really is and Luke has never seen Jack this in love. He also saw how calm she makes Jack, the second Jack stepped into the apartment it was like all of his stress and worries just went away.

“Good.” She smiled and walked to the stove and Jack reluctantly let go of her to grab three plates and he handed one to Luke.

They all platted up their plates and headed to her dinning room sitting around the table.

Luke took a bite and made a sound, “Oh my god.” Luke looked over at her in awe, he had never had such amazing spaghetti, “Jack you are not allowed to ever let her go.” Luke declared making her laugh and Jack smile and roll his eyes.

“That is the best spaghetti i have ever had.” Luke told her the second he was done, he had scrapped everything it off his plate within in minutes.

“Thank you.” She flushed at the compliment as it always means a lot when someone likes her cooking, “If you’re still hungry please have seconds.” She encouraged Luke and she knew it was the right thing to say as Luke lit up and got up immediately and headed into the kitchen.

Jack grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, “You know he adores you already.” Jack told her, He knew the easiest way to wins Luke heart is food and he knew having them meet like this would be perfect for them both.

She let out a small sigh of relief her shoulders releasing some tension, “I hope so.” She softly admitted.

Jack fondly smiled and he felt so warm seeing her care so much about what her family thinks about her and how much she wants to have the approval of his whole family.

It means the world to Jack knowing she cares that much and that’s another reason he knew he picked the right one.

Five

Jack looked out the plane window as the plane started to descend down as they were almost in Michigan.

His arm was around her shoulders as she rested her head on his shoulder and his hand was playing with her hair as she slept peaceful on him.

Jack frowned slightly knowing he would have to wake her up but he didn’t want to as he loves how peaceful she looks when she sleep.

“My sweet girl.” Jack softly cooed rubbing her shoulder watching as she groaned softly and her eyes starts fluttering open, “There’s those beautiful eyes.” Jack cooed as she opened her eyes to look up at him. He smiled at her little sleepy smile and blush and how she leaned closer to him her nose nudging his neck.

“How was your nap baby?” Jack gently asked his girlfriend.

“Comfy.” She mumbled pressing a kiss to his neck before lifting her head up and resting her chin on his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to her nose making her nose scrunch and he smiled lovingly.

Once the plane landed they got up and Jack grabbed their bags for them and they got off the plane and walked through the airport. Jack never lets her carry her bags anymore even her purse.

They walked out of the airport and Jack saw Quinn waiting by the car and he guided her over to Quinn and the car.

Jack dropped the bags by the car and hugged his brother and Quinn hugged him tightly back.

Quinn looked over once they stopped hugging and saw her and smiled gently having heard the most about her than anyone else and he already knew she is perfect for Jack by how happy she makes her brother.

“Hi.” Quinn spoke softly and usually he doesn’t hug new people but with how muchJack talks about her Quinn feels as if he knows her and he hugged her gently.

“Hi.” She gently spoke back with a small sense of relief realizing Quinn had to like her a bit to her hug and she was glad because he’s very important to Jack.

Jack loaded the car while he let the two talk and get to know each other better.

Quinn got into the drivers seat and he couldn’t help but smile realizing that Jack got into the backseat so he could sit with his girlfriend.

The three talked most of the drive back to the lake house and she fit extremely well with Quinn.

Quinn offered to get theirs bags and bring them up to Jack’s room to let Jack go introduce her to everyone.

Jack had a bounce in his step as he held her hand and brought her through his lake house and to the backyard seeing his parents and Luke.

Luke looked up and smiled seeing the two and he got up walking right to his future sister in law ignoring Jack completely and hugged her. Jack just fondly rolled his eyes.

Ellen raised an eyebrow and smiled softly seeing that Luke obviously cares a lot about Jack’s girlfriend. Luke has only had amazing things to say about her.

Ellen has never seen Jack talk about anyone the way he talks about her and in Ellen’s book she already approves because of that and she can see how happier Jack is now and that’s all she wants is for her children to be happy.

Ellen and Jim got up and walked over to them and they hugged Jack first having missed their middle child as Luke talked with her.

“Hi.” She spoke slightly nervous as Ellen and Jim turned their attention to her and she wanted to make a good first impression.

Jack held her hand softly rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, something that Ellen didn’t miss and she smiled wider.

“It is so good to finally meet you!” Ellen beamed and pulled her into soft hug and she was even more surprised here Ellen let go that Jim pulled her into a hug too.

“It’s really nice to meet you both.” She softly but honestly told them as she leaned back into Jack’s side.

“Are you guys hungry?” Ellen asked in a motherly tone she watched as they shared a look and Jack nodded.

“Starving.” Jack answered as they had an early flight and slept most of the flight so they are hungry.

“Why don’t we go to the country club and get some food?” Ellen offered and the two nodded.

“Give us a few minutes and get out of our airport clothes?” Jack asked his mom knowing his girlfriend hated sitting in clothes she wore to the airport.

Ellen nodded and watched as the two walked away and headed inside.

Jack lead her to his room well their room now.

“See it went well.” Jack softly said as he closed the door behind them, his hands rested on her arms giving her a smile. Jack knew how nervous she was to meet his parents and Quinn as she wanted to make a good impression.

Jack has always known his family gets along with others well but they have never all liked someone as quick as they just did with her, She fit into his family immediately and no one ever has fit in like that.

She smiled and nodded relaxing more now and Jack pressed a kiss to her cheek and let her get dressed.

She got ready in the bathroom and when she stepped out in a white sundress Jack groaned, “Baby you are killing me.” Jack didn’t want to leave the room with her looking this beautiful he didn’t want to share.

They have been dating for seven months now and yet Jack still makes her blush just as easily.

“Absolutely beautiful.” Jack mumbled against her lips making her smile and her blush deepen even more.

Jack wrapped an arm around her waist and they walked out of his room and downstairs where they saw his family waiting.

“Ready?” Ellen asked as she looked up and then coming down the stairs. Jack nodded and everyone got up and headed outside into the car.

“Woah what do you think you’re doing?” Jack incredulously scoffed as he saw Luke stealing the spot next to his girlfriend.

“What. I haven’t seen her in a month!” Luke protested wanting to spend time with his friend. Luke really connected well when he first met her and they became really good friends and text each other daily.

“Here scoot over Luke, i’ll sit in the middle.” She easily told the boys as they didn’t even think of her just sitting in the middle of them.

Ellen watched as who she knew would become her daughter in law one day easily break up an argument between Luke and Jack before it became one, something that is very hard with the two stubborn boys.

Jack slid next to his girl immediately and held her hand and let her lean her head on his shoulder as she chatted with Luke as Jim drove them.

Ellen and Jim shared a look hearing how easily she got Luke to talk a lot.

Jim pulled into the parking lot and they all walked into the country club and got a table outside looking out at the water.

Ellen and Jim took the chance to start asking a few questions about her even if Jack probably already told them all the answers.

Jack had his arm around the back of her chair and watched with a content face watching his girl and future wife get along with each of his family members perfectly.

Jack smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

+One

Jack and her have been in Michigan for almost three months and Jack was pretty sure his entire family adores her more than they do him which Jack completely understood and he was glad they all love her so much.

She became the only person that Jim let touch his grill and he taught her how to cook on the grill and how to catch a fish and how to prepare the fish to cook it.

Jack knew his mom is just so happy to have another girl around and just absolutely adores her. He remembered the happy tears his mom shed when he showed her the ring he had bought.

Quinn loves reading and has been trying to get into it more lately and she helped him figure out what exactly he likes to read and they went to many library’s to get books for Quinn to read. Now Quinn and her will sit together and read in silence. Jack has never seen Quinn warm up that fast to anyone but her.

And Luke, Jack already knows Luke loves like a sister since the first time he met her and he made her food. But the two have spent a lot of time in the kitchen and her teaching Luke how to cook better and Luke gets to taste everything which makes him happy.

Jack just adored having her at the lake house, getting to cuddle on the boat, seeing her wakeboard, watching the sunrises and sunsets, sitting around the fire. Jack loved being able to have her with him the entire summer.

Jack got the chance a few weeks before they headed back to New Jersey with Luke to let her meet the rest of his extended family at a wedding and just as Jack expected she was adored within in seconds.

“You have got a good one Jacky.” Ellen told her son watching her laugh with all the little kids and saw how lovesick Jack is.

“I know.” Jack proudly nodded with a happy smile.

Ellen smiled softly and patted his shoulder, “She’s perfect for you and i can’t wait until she is in the family officially.” Ellen encouraged her son giving him a proud smile and she knew sooner than later Jack would be proposing.

Jack had barely gotten any attention from because all his little cousins have stolen his girl the entire day and during the wedding but when they were taken to bed and he finished his conversation with his mother he was finally able to sweep his girl onto the dance floor.

“Hello my sweet girl.” Jack lovingly mumbled as he wrapped his arms around her and they slow danced together.

“Hi.” She smiled back and her fingers fiddled with the nape of his hair.

“Have you ever thought about our wedding?” Jack asked curiously as they were coming up on eleven months being together and he was completely certain he will ask within the next year. Some may say that’s too soon but when you know, you know.

She blinked looking thoughtful and her cheeks flushed pink, “Yeah.” She sheepishly whispered, it doesn’t help that Jack looks so good in a suit and she thinks about him wearing a suit on their wedding day.

Jack perked up, “Yeah?” He asked happily when he realized she thought about their future.

“Yeah.” She whispered earnestly back, “I would love to be your wife one day.” She admitted to her boyfriend.

Jack beamed brighter than ever and pressed his forehead to her forehead, “I can not wait until i make you my wife, future Mrs Hughes.” Jack whispered to her already waiting for the day he finely gets to marry her.

She smiled content and nudged her nose to his gently.

He was very glad he spilled that cup of coffee on her.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Nadezh' Interview

Summary: After Nadezh previous identity as the Firebreather, notorious Supervillain, was revealed, she thought she’d lose everything. She’s never been so happy to be wrong.

You can read Nadezh' first story (HERE)

--------------------------.

It’s decided that Nadezh will work in the finance department of Hero Force. She hates to leave her civilian job and her coworkers seeing the success of her budget fully bloom, but the other option is wearing the power suppressors 24/7, and their power frequency vibrates through her engagement ring in a way that reminds her of a bee buzzing, and she won’t take the ring off so.

The interview is a formality but they make her do it anyway. She prepares for it over the course of seven days, making Gannon rehearse every hypothetical question with her until the last minute.

Until the last minute meaning on the drive to Hero Force for the interview.

“There is a discrepancy in the packaging budget,” Gannon reads. He’s used to her driving and doesn’t flinch when she merges too quickly, and a chorus of Chicago drivers chastise her loudly. “There is a flat rate for three different sizes of package. According to the average order value and average product mix, packaging should be $3.5k—Nadezh, Hero Force doesn’t have a commerce division, I don’t think this is necessary.”

Nadezh knows the rest of this question. What steps would you take to reconcile actual and planned? “Of course, there’s the option to conduct a forensic audit, however—”

“We do have a forensic finance department,” Gannon concedes, “but that’s not—”

“—first would be to observe the whole packaging process. While there is a flat rate for all three package sizes that doesn’t mean all orders are being packaged for efficiency—”

Gannon reaches for her knee, thinks better of it, considering her foot on the gas pedal, and diverts to her shoulder. He squeezes, and all of the tension in her back magically eases. “Babe. You’re already overqualified. You’re going to do great.”

They’ve already had this argument, so Nadezh doesn’t say Overqualified? It’s amazing they’re even letting me into a Hero Force building, I could be the President and I still wouldn’t be qualified considering my past. Instead, she says, “Right. Right, thanks. You’re right. Right.”

“Right,” Gannon says seriously.

“Right,” she says and takes the next exit.

“Riiiiiiight.”

By the time they pull into the parking garage, Nadezh is laughing at the increasingly bizarre ways Gannon says the word right. The word barely has meaning anymore, and she’s fairly certain that if anyone else heard Hero Zone sounding so goat-like, they’d send him to psych for an evaluation.

Nadezh gets out of the car first, hurrying before he can say anything else that will set her off.

“Go save the day,” she says. Her face hurts from smiling. She tosses him the keys over the roof of the car after she closes the door. “I can get the train back.”

Gannon rounds the bumper and presses them back into her hand. He kisses her forehead. “No public transport from HQ.”

She blinks, the spot his lips touched tingling. “Is that a rule?”

“Our house rule,” Gannon says. He smiles reassuringly at her. “Just a precaution. I know too many people who get made getting followed out of HQ.”

Gannon always explains himself even though she never asks. Her heart is racing at our house rules. They have house rules. They’re engaged. They’re going to get married. She lifts her chin for a kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you.” He kisses her.

Kissing Gannon is the closest she feels to her powers these days. The warmth that runs through her, the heat in her cheeks, the pounding of her heart – actually she takes it back. It’s not like her power at all. It’s better than her power.

“Break it up!” a man calls from across the parking garage.

Electricity shoots through Nadezh. She didn’t hear him come up behind her. She tries to pull away from Gannon, to turn and protect them, but his hands on her shoulders stop her. Her brain catches up a moment later. Gannon is relaxed, warm brown eyes still happy. The voice is familiar.

“It’s not goodbye yet,” another voice says grumpily. This time Nadezh recognizes the speaker. When her tension eases, Gannon lifts his hands long enough for her to turn and greet Flare. He drapes his arms over Nadezh’s shoulders. Flare’s eye twitches. “There’s, like, a whole elevator ride to go.”

“There’s cameras in the elevator,” Gannon says.

Nadezh still doesn’t know what to make of Gannon’s Hero team. Omit – the leader of the team – is decent. Fast, sound decisions on the field, always knows when to retreat, which is important when your team is made of B and C-rank heroes.  His power – to eliminate an object from the enemy’s perception during battle – makes her uneasy. Despite his openness with her, she can’t erase the suspicion that he’s using his powers on her from her mind.

She likes Flare. The woman is bright and bubbly, almost six inches shorter than Nadezh, with all the energy of a hummingbird. Though she’s stationed on Gannon’s team, she’s in high demand across the city. There aren’t many fliers out there, and although her dragonfly wings aren’t exactly subtle, she’s fast enough and strong enough to conduct recon across Lake Michigan. Flare keeps Gannon safe when he’s out saving the world. Nobody sneaks up on them with her around.

Mostly.

“Us singles are feeling left out,” Omit says and tries to drape an arm over Flare’s shoulders.

Flare flits away. “Interview today?” she asks Nadezh.

“Right,” Nadezh says.

Gannon’s burst of surprised laughter lasts all the way to Nadezh’s floor where he waves goodbye breathlessly.

Even with his mask obstructing the crow’s feet she loves, Nadezh savors the memory of his joy all the way to her interview.

----.

Agent Briston isn’t like any other agent Nadezh has ever seen. He’s in his sixties, round, bald, and wearing a sweater vest under his regulation suit jacket. She thinks there’s a reason agents like him are kept out of sight. He looks like an easy target—no. She doesn’t think about people as targets anymore. She means that he looks like the grandfather in a commercial about watches, the one who takes the vintage watch off of his own wrist to wrap it around the grandson’s with an air of gravity.

“This interview isn’t a guarantee, despite your…recommendations,” Agent Briston says the moment Nadezh sits down. His desk has nothing but a computer, a notepad, and a pen. Somehow the harried look on his face makes it seem cluttered with paper. “We don’t have the budget for many staff. We need to be selective.”

Nadezh resists the urge to pull at the Hero Force regulation mask on her face or the power suppressors around her wrists. Part of her agreement with Foresight was that she’d wear the cuffs whenever Gannon wasn’t with her. The blue glow feels ostentatious, and she hopes Agent Briston won’t turn her down based on them. “Understood, sir.”

“Briston,” Agent Briston says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Only the heroes call me sir. My staff calls me Briston.”

Nadezh nods. “I’m Nadezh Mel—”

“No last names, Nadezh,” Briston says. He pulls his glasses from a desk drawer and puts them on. He squints at his computer. “Now. Tell me.  Do you have accounting experience?”

“Yes, si—Briston.”

Briston’s thick white eyebrows raise and he abandons his computer to focus back on Nadezh. He seems skeptical. “Really?”

“I created the office budget for my last company,” Nadezh says. She has a better way to say this, she rehearsed this with Gannon— “My plan allowed for the purchase of new chairs and a copier.”

Briston stares at her. “You really have accounting experience.”

Did he not hear her? Or did she answer incorrectly? “I-I was also part of the team that allocated reinvestment funds—”

“Foresight’s recruits never have accounting experience.”

“—and payroll for over 500 employees—”

“Payroll!” Briston looks up at the ceiling. “She does payroll!”

“I—I’m sorry?” she says. She can’t read his tone. Is he disappointed or being sarcastic? She scrambles for her next interview answer. “I have a bachelor’s in accounting from Illinois State, but I plan to complete my master’s in the next five years—”

Briston makes a sound she’s only ever heard from frightened raccoons. “You’re hired,” Briston declares. He reaches over the desk to shake her hand. “I’ll draw up a counteroffer before noon.”

Confused, Nadezh shakes his hand. His grip is surprisingly strong. “Sir? The terms of my employment should already be in my file.” Foresight had made it clear she’d be starting at the bottom level of the pay scale.

“We aren’t paying my new director that,” Briston says. “We’ll start double that and see what they counter offer.”

“They? Aren’t you in charge of salary approvals?” Nadezh asks. Then, as his words sink in, “Director?!”

Briston beams at her. “Experience, a degree, and common sense! We’ll settle for 30% higher than the initial offer with a condition for an additional 10% at the next performance review.”

“Director,” Nadezh says. When Briston doesn’t answer, ignoring her in favor of typing feverishly, Nadesh says with surety, “You’re joking.”

Briston hums and doesn’t answer her.

“Right?”

----.

Briston isn’t joking.

Gannon takes a dazed Nadezh out for dinner and drinks to celebrate. The private room he reserves is in the back of a Japanese restaurant run by a former Superhero. There are flowers on the table, candles strategically placed around the room, soundproofing on the walls, and a chilled bottle of Nadezh's favorite white wine waiting. She processes all of this distantly. She makes Gannon read her employment contract between bites of sushi. Bemused, he dutifully announces her employed status and starting salary whenever she asks.

“Guess I shouldn’t have listened to the rumors about the department head,” Gannon says. Rather than surprised, his voice carries an element of relief. “You’re barely taking a salary cut with this.”

“Cut? This is a ten percent raise,” Nadezh hisses. She stares at her green tea. “Does Foresight know?” A jolt of sick fear floods with her. “I didn’t make Briston give me a raise, I swear!”

“Nadezh, of course you didn’t,” Gannon says. He reaches across the table to nudge at her clenched hands. Automatically, she unfurls them to reveal half-moon indents from her nails. He slides his palm against hers. “You deserve this.”

“But Foresight might think—”

“He won’t.” Gannon picks up his chopsticks with his left hand, content to let his right keep holding hers so that her dominant hand is free. He’s clumsier with them and frowns as he chases salmon roe around his plate. “Briston has almost unilateral say in the finance department. Nobody can sway him. He’s known for being short-tempered, cheap, and stubborn. I’m sure Foresight will just be grateful he finally hired someone.”

Nadezh narrows her eyes. “You said you didn’t know the person interviewing me.”

“Oops?” Gannon finally catches the salmon roe under a bite of rice and pops it in his mouth. He chews innocently. “Did I?”

“Fess up.”

“It’s not like I know a lot. People say Briston fires more than he hires.” Gannon’s eyes shift to the side.  “Aaaand that he can be heard yelling whenever it’s time to calculate overtime expenses. Or whenever the armory submits their expense report. Or when the audit team comes back with city damage claims. Or when—”

Nadezh drops her head into her free hand, letting her long black hair hide her for a moment. She forgot that Hero Force accountants dealt with destroyed skyscrapers and medical leave for when you got your arms ripped off in a fight, not copiers and desk chairs. “You didn’t think to mention any of this before the interview?!”

“You were freaked out enough.” Gannon pauses in the way he does when he’s about to say what he’s really thinking so Nadezh doesn’t interrupt. She waits as he chews until he finally says, “I’m glad he bumped your salary. I was starting to feel guilty.”

Nadezh’s hand spasms around Gannon’s. “Guilty?”

“Yeah,” Gannon says. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I argued against making you leave your job. Said it made Hero Force the sort of organization everyone always accuses us of being. Overreaching and, well…cruel.”

“You didn’t tell me about that either.” Had he been thinking that this whole time? While she made him practice interview questions with her? Did he think she was forcing herself? The thought of Gannon feeling even a tenth of the gnawing guilt that lives inside her makes her want to throw up. Nadezh shakes her head and leans across the table. She’s glad for the private room and how it allows her to show him how his words affect her. “Babe, you don’t have anything—"

“I know how hard you worked for that job,” Gannon interrupts. He licks his lips. Now it’s his turn to stare at his tea. “Please, just…listen.”

Nadezh would do anything Gannon asked. She squeezes his hand again and fights the words bubbling up her throat like lava.

“We haven’t really talked since that day,” Gannon says. He’s a Hero; he makes himself look into her eyes. “I haven’t really talked. I’ve been afraid to. I know your past isn’t…isn’t good. I do. And I know that you don’t want to forget about it or pretend it doesn’t exist.”

She wants to, but she can’t. Like hunger and emptiness, she doesn’t think Gannon will ever understand the weight she carries from the harm she’s done. The screams she’d once reveled in now haunt her in ways she could never have guessed. But he’s talking to her, so she doesn’t explain. She listens.

“I feel like I’ve been making you give up everything for me,” Gannon confesses in a rush. He speaks faster as her eyes widen, like if he makes his sentences a big enough river, she won’t be able to dam it up. “Your first civilian job, your past, and your freedom to do whatever you want to do – because you could do anything, you really could – and even your powers.” He rubs his thumb over the underside of her wrist where the power suppressors sit during working hours. His face crumples. “Every morning, I will have to take you to put them on. It’s…I hate it. It feels like I’m abandoning you, or like I’m part of your punishment, or like I’m not being the partner you deserve.”

She starts, half rising from her seat. “Gannon! How could you—?”

His grip is strong on her hand, and he gestures for her to sit with a quick jerk of his chin. His eyes close tight. “Please, Nadezh.”

She quiets.

It takes him a long time to start speaking again. He remains quiet until he’s able to look her in the eyes again. “You…that day. The day you saved my and my team’s life.”

The day she thought her fairytale had come to an end. Even now, the memory of his blank eyes as she revealed the red and gold costume of the Firebreather, one of the world’s most notorious and deadly supervillains, follows her. The cold wind whipping across the ship’s deck, the pillars of ice gleaming in the sun, his team haltingly asking her if she was going to take over the boat…and his eyes. The pain that ripped through her when she realized she would lose him was worse than anything she’d ever experienced. It had made her realize that she’d been a shell for years until she met him, that she’d been nothing until he showed her a world where she could be someone. In that moment, she’d known that she’d wasted his time on a dead end. That their dream to get married would never be the same if it happened at all and she had robbed him in her greed.

But he remembers it as the day she saved his life rather than dooming his future.

“I became a hero to save people,” Gannon says. His lips thin. “How did I put it? That day at the diner? To share the relief of having the day saved.” His face twists in a way she can’t understand. “You must have thought I was so naïve.”

“No,” she says simply.

He raises their hands so he can kiss the back of hers. “Thank you. I think I was naïve. Being a hero seemed simple, looking at the world that way, like everyone wanted to be saved and, in turn, wanted to one day go on to save someone else. Every moment of salvation would get repaid. Good things would always happen to good people.”

Well, when he put it like that.

Gannon continues, “But when I saw you standing there, dressed as the Firebreather, being saved was…different. It was all different.” He swallows hard. “For the first time, I realized saving the day wasn’t so simple. You had to reveal your identity to do it. You had to put your freedom and everything you worked for on the sidelines. Even us. You were ready to do it even if it meant we never got the chance to be married. I could tell that you weren’t going to let that stop you. You were going to save the day.  Instead of being relieved, I felt afraid.”

A small noise of protest builds in Nadezh’s throat. “Afraid of me?”

“No!” Gannon’s eyes widen and he leans over the table. “No, never. Never, Nadezh. Even when that last fireball singed the toes of my boots, I didn’t flinch for a moment. I knew you would never hurt me.”

Nadezh’s laugh is watery. “So that’s why you threw out those boots.”

“Regulation is closed toe,” Gannon says gravely. He plays with her fingers. “I was afraid because I realized there was a cost that I wasn’t willing to pay, but you were.”

“I couldn’t let you die,” Nadezh says.

“I know.” Gannon clears his throat and adjusts his grip on her hand so that he can feel her pulse against his thumb. “I know. I’m not saying that’s wrong.  Just…it was hard, wasn’t it?” His brown eyes search hers. “You knew before you even left the apartment to find me that you were going to lose everything.”

“But I didn’t,” Nadezh points out.

“But that’s what you thought.”

She can’t deny that.

“Saving the day is easy when it’s just a job,” Gannon says. “That day, I realized that I’d never really been a hero. It was a job, an important one, but not one that was going to take anything I wasn’t willing to give. That same job was the reason I let myself just stand there as Hero Force took you into custody. Like a coward. I hate myself for that moment.” His voice is raw with the admission. His free hand curls into a fist. “I should have run with you then.”

Nadezh barks a disbelieving laugh. It’s inappropriate, but the idea of Hero Zone, the most honorable hero in Chicago, running away with a supervillain is ridiculous. She hides her incredulity. “That’s—”

“I’m serious, Nadezh.” Gannon’s eyes burn through her, gaze unflinching. Her pulse jumps under his thumb. “I still think that. We could run now. Settle down somewhere and be civilians. Never show up on Hero Force radar again. Like Bonnie and Clyde hiding out from the law.”

“That’s not funny.” Try as she might, Nadezh can’t find any trace of humor on Gannon’s face. Her eyes dart around the room. When she can’t find any cameras, she leans forward and hisses, “Don’t even joke about that. You love being a hero.”

“I love being with you,” Gannon says. This time when he smiles the mole under his eye disappears with the force of it. “I told you, all I want is to marry you. No job will ever be worth more than that. So…” His smile wavers for a moment before he fixes it in place. “What do you say? Will you run away with me?”

Fuck. Her mind leaps ahead. They could get a place in the mountains. She knows how much Gannon misses his hometown on the East Coast. His family has long since disappeared from those ridges and valleys, but she can see him there, facing the sun with his arms held over his head in triumph. A field sprawled out below him blooms with green and a house sits just beyond that with a gently smoking chimney. Could she belong there too? With him?

Gannon mistakes her silence. “You wouldn’t have to wear the power suppressors ever again or worry about Briston yelling or what Hero Force will make you do. It could be just you and me like we always imagined. Together.”

Is he pleading with her? Begging her to say yes?

There will always be a part of her that wants to. The greedy and selfish part that wants to keep him all to herself, like the doll in her childhood that unraveled at the seams after only a month. The part of her that could hide him away is familiar. Too familiar.

“No.”

Gannon’s face falls. “No?”

“Not because I don’t want us,” she assures. Somehow, she feels lighter. Is this what’s been sitting silently between them this whole time? She could laugh. “I do. But I think you’re misunderstanding something. You’re not the reason why I’m cooperating with Hero Force.” She thinks over her words and then rephrases. “You’re not the only reason.”

“I’m not?” Gannon backtracks. “I mean, it’s not a problem if I’m not, but I thought…well. I thought given what you said in the interrogation room…”

“You will always be the love of my life,” Nadezh says. She finds the words as she says them. She’s had a lot of time to think about this – Gannon is not the first one to think what it’d be like to run away. “That will never change. It’s just…” Private room, she reminds herself. No one will be able to hear. She confesses, “I want to change. I don’t want to be the Firebreather anymore.”

“You’re not!”

Keep him, no one can stop you, power suppressors barely work once we really get up to temperature—Nadezh stops those thoughts firmly in their tracks. “There are parts of me that still are. I was afraid when I revealed who I was, but since then look how far I’ve come. You know all of me and you’re still here.” She lets her wonder and hope leak into her voice. Some mornings she wakes up to him by her side and can’t fathom how the universe let someone with hands as stained as hers have something so good. “I have a job. I have a way to give back for all the harm I caused. I…I think confronting my past has given me a chance to grow like I haven’t done before. A year ago, I couldn’t even accept the proposal from the man I love more than life itself. Now? I know that I can walk into work every day and have those power suppressors put on me by Hero Force -not you - and I can hold my head high.”

“Not me? Nadezh, I’m your containment,” Gannon says. His expression is tortured in the candlelight. “You say it’s Hero Force, but it’s me. I’m the one holding you back. Foresight said that Firebreather was sufficiently contained by my side, he awarded me custody—”

“Are you feeling guilty over that?” Nadezh’s mouth drops open. “Gannon, seriously?”

“I feel like I’m choosing to be your captor over being your fiancé,” Gannon says.

“Just like how you knew I would never hurt you, I know you would never hurt me. I wouldn’t even have to use my powers. I know the second I didn’t want to put those cuffs on, you wouldn’t.”

“I’m still—”

“No.” Nadezh won’t allow any room for confusion here. “Gannon. Stop. I am the one choosing to do this. That day I gave you a choice, remember? I said that you could walk away and I would be—” fine is a strong word “—I would understand. I was going to keep the memory of us agreeing to get married and let you walk away.”

There’s gravel in Gannon’s voice. He reaches across the table to capture her other hand. “I would never change my mind.”

“I believe you.” He was patient with her, waiting for her to believe it. She holds his hands back. “I believe you. So here’s what I’m asking. You gave me a choice just now. Stay or run away. Please believe me when I say I want to stay.”

“Even if it means I have to be your captor?” he asks, anguished.

She nearly snaps at the question. Isn’t he listening to what she’s saying? His tone stills her. She studies him. His eyes are teary, and she can feel his hands tremble in hers. “This really bothers you.”

He nods wordlessly.

She tries to put herself in his shoes. She imagines that he’s working as a henchman who used to be a hero. She imagines putting cuffs on him before work every day, knowing that he’d be helpless if the Villain ever decided to turn on him—She winces. “Maybe we can ask Omit to put on the cuffs instead?”

“I…we could try that,” Gannon says after a long moment. He breathes in through his nose. Out through his mouth. In through his nose. Then, “I really ruined this celebration dinner, huh?”

She snorts. Both of their eyes are red and swollen despite neither of them crying. “This is about how most of my celebration dinners have gone. Better, actually. Nobody is screaming and nothing’s on fire.”

“Yet,” Gannon says.

“See? There’s still hope.” They’ve been talking for so long that her wine is warm. She grimaces as she swallows. “Hey, captor? I think it’s time you took me to a secondary location.”

“That’s not funny.” Despite his words, Gannon’s lips twitch as he stands and pushes in his chair. “I’m really upset about that.”

Nadezh follows him to the door. She caresses his shoulder, ostensibly checking him for dust, but really needing the contact. “Should I comfort you?”

Gannon drops back to put his arm around her shoulders. “Hmmm, keep talking.”

“I think I have Stockholm syndrome—”

“I change my mind. No more talking.”

Nadezh laughs. “Riiiight.”

It’s not perfect. Nadezh knows that the conversation isn’t over. There’s a guardedness in Gannon she’s never seen before when talking about Hero Force. He doesn’t believe her, not yet. But that’s okay.

She’ll be around to convince him.

(Except for 9am-5pm Monday through Friday. She somehow doesn’t think Briston would take kindly to a hero responsible for flooding the docks every other week hanging around the office.)

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and what I do, please consider checking out my Patreon where I post all sorts of pieces earlier than I do on Tumblr!

Next week I have the continuation of my Cinderella retelling going up there first and then here later in March. You can read Cinderella here (Tumblr X) (PatreonX)

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[vividly-vermillion]

✴︎ BED CHEM

જ⁀➴ Rintaro Suna, your neighbor and bane of existence. Ever since his family moved in next to your family, the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut with a knife. Yes, maybe you did make out with him at the neighborhood barbecue party and perhaps you did end up in bed with him - or rather, in the backseat of his car. But you didn't expect your families to get along so great that they would go on a two week long vacation together - so now you're stuck with your annoyingly handsome neighbor who somehow always gets under your skin.

ﾉ including: Suna

ﾉ cw: fem!reader, Suna and you are both around 20 and still live at home here, exhibitionism, public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, protected sex

ﾉ wordcount: 1.9k

ﾉ info: requested by anon // I hope I didn't disappoint you dear anon 🥹

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!

"Rintaro, stop! Someone could see us!" You squeak at the man that latched onto your neck like a leech, sucking small marks onto your sensitive skin before kissing them. His hand was gently caressing your breast beneath the thin fabric of your swimwear and you couldn't help but melt at the attention he gave to your body.

"And who would that someone be? The beach is entirely empty," he chuckled against your skin while his fingers gently rolled your pebbled nipple to get any sort of reaction out of you. One word could stop this all, you knew it, yet you didn't say it because deep down you wanted this too.

Your back arched against his hand ever so slightly, craving his caress and the sound of a single seagull started to sound like it's laughing at you, mocking you for surrendering without a real fight.

Suna’s lips curled into a wolfish grin as he continued to press lazy kisses against your neck, gently nibbling at your pulse point every once in a while until his hand eventually wandered further down. Your left boob was left exposed to the gentle breeze of the ocean, your bikini top shifted from the way his hand played with your chest.

A pleasant tingling spread over your skin, leaving goosebumps behind where his fingers danced along your body and it felt addictive - Strong hands kneading your inner thighs, fingertips brushing past the spot where your legs and your core connected but never quite touching where you needed him the most. It took everything inside of you to not give in, to buck against his hand so he gently nudged his knuckles against your cunt to relieve this need for friction- even if it was only for a single second.

“Rin… please,” you plead breathily, but Suna pulled his hand away instead.

A wicked smirk appeared on Suna's face after he pulled away, acting like nothing has happened between the two of you.

"Please what? I thought you wanted me to stop?" He asked, feigning innocence as he reminded you that you told him to stop because you were scared of getting caught.

Just seconds later, he casually laid his shirt onto your upper body to cover your still exposed boob. This action alone made you wonder what was going on, but you soon heard the voices of a couple walking by. Sly fucker.

"I think it's time to head back, don't you think? Quality time with the family and all that," he mused and pulled his shirt off of you the second the potential risk of getting caught was gone - just like the couple disappeared, so did Suna, who was already on his way to the car you two came in.

Quickly, you fixed your bikini top and grabbed your things before running after him like a lost puppy. It's not like he would have left you behind at the beach, but you were furious with him for the relentless teasing.

"What is your fucking problem?!" You hiss at the man who just closed the trunk of his car with a loud thud. Of course he squinted his eyes at your question.

"I have no problems, thanks for asking," he hummed, acting innocent.

"But I think that you have a problem, hm? One that needs my help?" He teased further while his hand slowly moved to rest on your hip, playing with the strings of your bikini bottoms.

"Out here? Are you insane?" You asked him with alarmed eyes, looking around once again, but you were the only people there, no other car near and far on the small parking spot.

"If you'd rather help yourself back home where our parents are, be my guest." His eyes were glinting with mischief when the words left his mouth. He really did want you to beg for it.

The desperation grew inside of you until it became unbearable and you decided to push your pride aside, giving in for once and allowing him to win this stupid game. Without further hesitation you crashed your lips against his in a kiss that was both passionate and full of yearning.

It only took a heartbeat for Suna to respond. His lips melted against yours as if they had always belonged there, made for each other.

Time and space seemed to stop for the both of you as you were making out against the car. Suna's thigh slowly made its way between your legs, letting you grind and rub your clothed pussy against his bare thigh - finally granting you that sweet friction that you so desperately craved.

"Get into the backseat," Suna urged you as he opened the door for you. His cock was painfully erect from teasing you all this time and the way you humped his leg almost had him come undone in his swim shorts.

You weren't fast enough for his liking, slender fingers already opening the strings of your bikini shorts before you landed on the cushioned seat where you spread your legs for him in a moment's notice. A sharp intake of air was all you heard from the man in front of you, who was eyeing you down like the most delicious meal, before looking around once more to make sure that no one would interrupt the two of you.

Suna leaned into the back of the car, his lips softly pressed kisses against your chest before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth while one of his hands slipped between your bodies. Feeling you arch against him left the brown haired man smirking as his tongue leisurely caressed your nipple that he latched onto and two of his long fingers slipped inside your dripping wet entrance just to curl right against your sweet spot.

"Just listen how wet you are for me, hm?" His voice rasped out in a teasing way against the swell of your breast. The squelching noises were obscene at this point and it rendered you so desperate, unable to hide your need for the pleasure only he can provide.

Suna released your nipple with a loud pop and his kisses traveled over your belly down between your legs, where he wasted no time to give your clit the same attention that your nipple held mere seconds ago. The man just had to get a taste of your arousal and he groaned against your pussy, which sent vibrations through your entire body.

"Please don't stop," you whine as you gently tug on his hair, trying to keep his head nestled against your cunt, but Suna didn't plan on stopping when you were that close.

His cock might have ached from how hard it was, but he was a firm believer that women come first. His tongue lapped against your clit in fast strokes while his fingers worked you open and massaged your sweet spot until he could feel your thighs quiver around his head. Your own hand shot up to muffle your cries of ecstasy as you came undone within seconds, your hips rolling against his tongue, which flattened out to allow you to grind against his face.

Suna eventually pulled away to lick his fingers clean from the remnants of your arousal, his chin still glistening with your juices in the setting sun. Once he stood up to his full height again, you could see the tent that had formed in his swim shorts, but he disappeared to the front of the car to rummage through the glove compartment.

"You're awfully prepared," you laughed softly when he appeared with a condom in hand and he shook his head with a small chuckle.

"Only because I had to pull out last time," he answered smoothly and you weren't sure if he meant that one time after the barbecue party with you or if he fucked other women in the car after that.

You lean up to watch him roll the clear condom down his shaft in just one stroke as if he had practiced this many times before. When he leans forward to drag his bulbous tip through your folds, you reach down to stop him, your hand resting on his hip bone uncomfortably. Why did you even care?

"You do this a lot, huh? Taking pretty girls to your car to fuck," You ask almost hurt, even though you had no right to feel bitter about it. Yet, that little voice in the back of your head had to ask, had to know how many girls laid where you did. At least he used protection, you thought.

"Too busy fucking my neighbor for that," he mused and leaned forward to kiss you gently - almost sweetly and your hand removed itself from his hip to line him up with your entrance.

Both of you groan at the feeling when his cock slides into your pussy, gripping him tightly as if you were made for him. Suna, however wasted no time to thrust into you with these deep strokes that weren't fast but knocked the air out of your lungs each and every time. He allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your sweet pussy wrapping around him so fucking tight his mind completely blanked out.

Your soft mewls of his name brought him back to reality, however, reminding him that you're still in a parking lot and he shouldn't drag this out too long and you shouldn't get too loud.

One of his hands slipped between your sweat-slick bodies to rub your sensitive clit. The stimulation paired with his deep thrusts had your eyes rolling back into your skull in pure bliss. His lips found yours again to swallow your moans and to keep himself grounded since his thrusts grew sloppy from how tight your walls squeezed around him, but when they finally started to flutter and pull him further inside, he allowed himself to release as well.

Suna made sure to keep up shallow thrusts to ride out both your orgasms before stilling completely. When he stood up again, his thumb caressed your cheek in a loving manner before he retreated completely to discard the condom.

"Water is in the front if you need any," he called out from the trashcan a few feet away where he tied up the condom to throw it away while you tied the strings of your bikini again, still struggling to catch your breath.

"You're not gonna hold me like last time?" You asked teasingly as you climbed to sit in the front of the car where he was already getting buckled up to leave.

"Who said that I was done with you?" He looked at you from the corner of his eyes and smirked when he saw you melt further into the seat at the promise of more pleasure.

[cosmicalily]

'real love baby' with stray kids, ot8 headcanons by @cosmicalily | how skz love you

author's note: i absolutely adore this song by father john misty; i think it's the sweetest love song and just so prettily written. i wanted to do headcanons kind of similar to my 'everything is romantic' ones, where instead of just going off typical love languages and tropes (which are beautiful in their own way!), i kind of make up my own and unique scenarios for each! hope you enjoy! warnings: angst in hyunjin's, jisung's, and seungmin's (reasonably mild)

Chris, who loves you adoringly.

It was quiet in your apartment when you got home, although you knew that Chris would most definitely not be asleep. However, you walked through slowly and silently, just in case he was doing something important. Suddenly, you walked into a firm, black tank-top clad chest and squealed. A bouquet of roses dropped to the floor, petals falling everywhere. “I’m sorry, I was trying to be sneaky,” You sighed, shifting your sock across the petals. “Were these for me?” “No, they were for Han Jisung,” Chris deadpanned, then burst out giggling. “Of course they were. Although they’re a bit fucked up now. Sorry, baby.” You smiled at him. “That’s okay. What was the occasion, anyway? It’s not anywhere near our anniversary or my birthday or anything.” “Nothing. Just wanted to remind you that you’re a cute girl who deserves cute stuff like this, and that I love you.”

Minho, who loves you quietly.

When you come home from a girls’ night out, Minho doesn’t like to immediately approach you at the door. Instead, he stays where he is, sitting upright in bed, phone on his bedside table. He watches you as you undo your hair, take off your dress and put on your pyjamas. He watches you in the bathroom mirror, wiping off your makeup and washing your face. When you’re done, you come to him in bed, and it’s then that he pulls you onto his lap, slipping his hands around your waist and kissing you softly. It’s the moments like this that the two of you crave, the little pockets of quiet amongst your chaotic lives. And that’s where you’ll stay, cosy against each other, minimal words exchanged. Because he can’t ever find any that fully expresses the warmth he feels for you, the love in his eyes as he observes you simply existing. “Hold me,” is all he mumbles, and that’s exactly what you do.

Changbin, who loves you loudly.

“Doesn't my girlfriend look beautiful today?” Changbin asks, gesturing towards you. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard this exact question seven times now, said to each of the boys, and you’re not even that dressed up. However, to Changbin, in a simple pink sweater and loose jeans, you’re the equivalent of a Victoria’s Secret Angel, wings, halo and all.  “This feels like a trick question. If I say yes, you’re gonna punch me. If I say no, you’ll do the same,” Chris sighs, but offers you a smile. “I like the sweater.” “Thanks,” you reply, lightly shoving your boyfriend. “Changbin, sweetheart, that’s enough. Talk to them about other things. It’s boring otherwise.” “You’re not boring! You’re all I ever want to talk about,” he pouts, and you giggle.

Hyunjin, who loves you intensely.

Sometimes Hyunjin feels like he’s too much for you. At times, in between his dramatic statements, sweet pieces of poetry and watercolour paintings, he feels a tiny bit of fear. Fear that all his romantic gestures simply overwhelm you. When he gets himself into this fragile headspace, it’s you that returns his passionate love, reminding him that it’s the reason you fell for him in the first place. Carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, you confront your boyfriend, who is sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. He’s been quiet today. “Flowers for you, pretty boy,” you declare, thrusting the bouquet into his arms. “I also sent you the link to a playlist of songs I want to play at our wedding, and there’s wine in the kitchen.” “Baby…when I do things like this for you, it’s not too much, is it? I’m not too much for you?” he asks, placing the flowers on the floor and reaching for your waist. “Never. You could never be, Hyune.”

Jisung, who loves you softly. 

You’d been best friends with Jisung since the beginning of high school, and dating since the end. He was your other half, someone who’d been with you since the start and who you knew would stay until the end. You were both fragile at times; him with his anxiety and you with your melancholia. There were days that were tough, times where you both needed endless support and validation just to make it to the end. Today, you lay in the bath, your body numb, head hurting. You weren’t in a good headspace, and Jisung knew this when he approached you gently. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders, baby?” he’d asked softly, running the pad of his thumb across your eyes where the tears brimmed. “Yes please,” you’d mumbled in response, and he kissed the tip of your nose.

Felix, who loves you warmly.

Felix would see the two of you in everything, from an old couple drinking tea to a pair of marshmallow keychains. He loved you more than he thought was possible, in ways that made his heart feel fit to bursting. It brought him a rush of excitement and joy, something he carried with him throughout the day. His favourite time with you was the mornings; the sunlight from the open window pouring into the room, casting a yellow glow. You always woke up before him, leg thrust across his, forehead pressed against his neck, pressing soft kisses to the warm skin. “Morning, sweet girl,” he’d murmur, voice groggy. “Did you sleep well?” “Dreamt of you,” you’d reply chirpily, and he’d giggle. He hoisted your body off his, laying you on your back. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, his hands travelled to your waist, before he tickled the soft skin.

Seungmin, who loves you unconditionally.

It had not been an easy day for you. On top of your hormones, a full day at work and having not seen your boyfriend for a week while he’d been filming overseas, you’d just remembered you had an assignment due that evening at midnight. When Seungmin came through the door, eyes bright and smile wide, excited to see you, you threw yourself at him, bursting into tears. He pulled you in close and tight, letting you cry into his shoulder. He didn’t know what had happened, whether you were upset or angry or stressed, but he held you, because he didn’t mind. Your body relaxed against his a little, and you pulled away, eyes puffy. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m such a mess.” “Don’t be,” he replied honestly, and kissed your cheek softly. “You breathed today. That’s enough to be proud of.”

Jeongin, who loves you sweetly. 

You and Jeongin’s love for fashion was what had sparked your relationship in the first place; you’d met him on Depop of all places, purchasing a leather jacket he didn’t wear enough. He’d asked for your Instagram so he could see pictures of you in ‘his baby’, and as a result, your crush had blossomed. Now, he didn’t have to sell you his clothes; they were in his wardrobe, free for you to grab whenever he wanted. And he encouraged it, because he loved seeing you in them. He’d also often buy pieces for you that he thought you’d like. “I found this skirt in the vintage shop down the road,” he’d said, pulling out a plaid miniskirt. “It’s like the one I saw saved on your Pinterest board.” “Baby, that is the one saved on my Pinterest board,” you’d gasped, staring at the skirt in shock. “It’s also Vivienne Westwood. I don’t even want to know how much it cost you.” “Then I won’t tell you,” he replied plainly, smiling. “Go try it on. You’ll look adorable.”

[prlssprfctn]

A fun little headcannon is that everyone believes Jason to prefer paperback and physical paper but he honestly doesn't care. Maybe it stems from his Robin days reading for hours in the manor library. Or how'd he always tell Bruce to write down the details of the case to solve it faster. Or even that they needed to have physical copies of each file in case the Batcomputer got hacked. It just stuck with Bruce and by extension everyone believes it.

But like he would totally love an eReader with how many books you can fit on it. Audio books are even better because he can listen to them anywhere. The man likes the stories people have to tell. How he consumes it isn't a concern. But of course he has a flare for dramatics so he plays into this misconception.

Steph: Jason, I know you'd prefer a physical book but I got a Kindle that you could use more than me.

Jason who already owns the newest model takes it and chucks it at the floor: Disgusting.

Tim at the Batcomputer: Why do we need to write up a report for Condiment King of all people. Its the third one this month!

Jason: Back in my day we would hand write each and every report.

Dick: No we didn't???

Jason magically pulling out a file cabinet with said case files.

Jason: Honestly we should start doing that again let me go ask Bruce.

Bruce: Honestly if you'd wait five more minutes someone would have come in as backup. You don't need to do everything on your own Hood.

Jason completely ignoring him because he's got books downloaded on his helmet.

Damian next to him knowing what Jason is up to because he did the exact same thing with Ra's.

YES, YES!

i think Jason loves paperback when it is his already favourite books, the ones he knows he loves and wants to annotate and explore — otherwise, he prefers to try books in e-version first. or borrow books from the library if he is in the mood. he strikes me as someone who loves supporting local libraries! plus, listens audio-books on missions and during work-outs, yep, yep.

do other family members have a wrong opinion in that in their minds because Bruce is the "heard my kid mentioning something once, now i think their whole personality evolves around this thing" type of parent sometimes? oh, fucking absolutely. does Jason love to play on the stereotype of "boomer" sibling? yeah— lol.

also, he is a type of kid who would remind the teacher about homework (i think he genuinely cared about this as a kid and didn't understand why everyone got mad, but now he knows WHY, and he will do it EVERYONE'S problem) and combined with him, writing reports on papers, i raise you this:

Bruce, tired by the end of the patrol: Had we discussed everything? Hadn't I forgotten something?

literally everyone but Jason, quickly: no, no, we are fine. ha-ha.

Jason, appearing behind them: well. actually. we all now should write our reports.

Bruce: oh, right.

Jason, smirking: here is mine, by the way. i wrote it while you are all was bickering.

Bruce: so competent! thank you, lad.

Other kids, fuming: -_-

also, the image of Jason blasting audio-books through his helmet is frying me. so, get this:

Dick: Jason is so suspiciously calm for the last few days! like, seriously. proud of him.

Tim: right? it is actually hilarious. Bruce was screaming at him yesterday, and Jason was just staring at him silently, no word, no remark... he was so quiet that Bruce instantly felt bad and apologised. like. master-tecnique. lol.

Jason, who was listening to audio-book all this time, and didn't even hear what Bruce said, just nodded when he started randomly hugging him and murmuring "my baby": whatever.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost & Found

Summary: You suffer memory loss after an accident, only remembering your sister, Emily, and not your boyfriend, Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: car accident, depressive thoughts, fighting, crying, memory loss, struggling with memory loss, showering together, suggestive content (16+), use of Y/N

Word count: 19.6k

a/n: this reminds me of the vow lol my bad but i already wrote it sooo

main masterlist

The sun had just begun to rise over Washington, D.C., casting long shadows across the bustling streets. You were driving to work, your thoughts on the day ahead, when the unthinkable happened. Out of nowhere, a semi-truck barreled down the road, its brakes screaming in protest, unable to halt its deadly path. There was no time to react. The world slowed as the massive vehicle collided with the driver’s side of your car, the sound of metal crunching filling the air like a thunderclap.

—

Spencer Reid sat in a sterile conference room, surrounded by maps and case files in a small town in Missouri. He was miles away from home, yet his mind kept drifting back to you. It had been a little over two years since you and Spencer began dating, and in that time, he had come to rely on your comforting presence. Even though he was away, the two of you made it a point to call each other whenever possible, exchanging stories about your days and sharing a few jokes. Today, he hadn’t heard from you yet, and a nagging feeling tugged at the back of his mind.  

The shrill ring of his phone jolted Spencer out of his thoughts. Hotch was in mid-sentence when Spencer abruptly stood up, excusing himself from the meeting as he glanced down at the caller ID and recognized your best friend’s name. 

“Hey, Spencer! Sorry for calling so early, I just wanted to ask if you knew what Y/N would like for her birthday dinner!” they chirped, their voice a bit muffled from what sounded like some activity in the background. “She’s so picky, you know! Maybe we could make a surprise for her?”

“I...I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her yet today,” Spencer admitted, his voice nearly shaking. “But she loves Italian food, maybe pasta?” 

“Oh, of course! I’ll start with that, then. Thanks, Spencer!” they replied before hanging up, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

The call left Spencer feeling hollow, a growing sense of dread gnawing at him. He sank back into his chair, his mind reeling. Moments later, his phone rang again, and he picked it up without even glancing at the screen. This time, the voice on the other end was urgent and frantic, and Spencer’s heart sank as he listened. 

"Hello?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though the room was still buzzing around him.

“Spencer Reid?” a calm, authoritative voice inquired on the other end.

“Yes, this is he,” Spencer replied, straightening up slightly as he recognized the tone of someone delivering important information.

“This is St. Agnes Hospital in Washington, D.C.," the voice continued. "I’m calling about Y/N L/N.”

Spencer's heart skipped a beat. The mention of your name brought everything else to a halt, and he felt a wave of apprehension wash over him.

“She has been in an accident,” the voice said, and Spencer could hear the weight behind those words. “You are listed as her emergency contact, how soon can you get here?”

He froze, unable to process the words as they echoed in his mind. “An accident?” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "What happened?"

“There was a collision with a semi-truck,” the hospital staffer explained, their voice professional yet tinged with compassion. “Y/N was seriously injured. She’s currently in surgery, but it’s critical.”

Spencer's mind raced, each word like a punch to his gut. “Is she—” he started, his voice breaking. “Is she going to be okay?”

“We’re doing everything we can, Dr. Reid,” the worker reassured him gently. “But you should get here as soon as you can.”

He nodded, though the person on the other end couldn't see him, trying to gather his thoughts through the haze of shock. The room around him felt surreal, the voices of his colleagues fading into the background.

“Thank you,” Spencer managed to say, his voice shaky with barely restrained panic. “I’m on my way from Missouri, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

As he ended the call, Spencer abruptly returned, shoes pounding against the floor. His teammates noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, their conversations pausing as they turned to him with concern.

“Spencer?” Emily asked, noticing the ashen look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Y/N,” Spencer said, his voice tight with urgency. “There’s been an accident. I need to get home.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his things, already planning his route to the nearest airport in his head. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the urgency to be by your side, to hold your hand, to be there when you needed him most.

“We’ll cover things here,” Hotch assured him, stepping forward. “Go.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, his voice holding gratitude and desperation. He turned to leave, his thoughts solely focused on getting back to you, hoping with every fiber of his being that he wouldn’t be too late.

—

Spencer couldn’t remember the flight home. The moments blurred together as his mind replayed the words over and over: life support, coma, severe accident. They echoed in his head, refusing to let him think of anything else. His team had rallied around him, offering words of support and handling the details to get him back as quickly as possible. 

As the plane touched down in Washington, Spencer felt the full weight of the situation crashing down on him. His legs trembled as he stood, a numbness spreading through his body as he made his way through the terminal. 

The hospital was a short drive away, and yet it felt like an eternity. He barely registered the buildings and streets flashing by as he sat in the back seat of a cab, his heart pounding with each passing moment. 

Finally, he arrived at the hospital, a large, imposing building that now seemed more like a fortress. Spencer rushed through the doors, barely acknowledging the bustling activity around him as he focused solely on reaching you. He navigated the maze of hallways with a determination that surprised even him, eventually finding his way to the ICU. 

Your room was sterile and filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines, each sound a stark reminder of your fragile condition. Spencer stopped short at the sight of you lying in the hospital bed, tubes and wires snaking across your body. His heart wrenched at the sight, a profound ache settling in his chest as he slowly approached. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. 

He took a shaky breath, feeling the enormity of the situation press down on him. He felt helpless, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest with the assistance of the ventilator, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what had happened. 

Spencer reached out, his hand trembling as he gently took yours. The warmth of your skin was a small comfort, a reminder that you were still there, still fighting. 

“I’m here,” he said softly, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Please, Y/N... please come back to me.” 

The room was silent except for the steady hum of the machines, and Spencer felt a tear slide down his cheek. He brushed it away, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

—

The hours that followed were a blur. Spencer sat by your side, his hand never leaving yours as he kept a silent vigil. The nurses and doctors came and went, their words and actions a distant murmur as Spencer focused solely on you. He remembered snippets of conversations, assurances that you were receiving the best care possible, and updates on your condition that offered little comfort. 

In those moments, Spencer clung to hope. He recalled all the times you had smiled at him, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited or passionate about something. He remembered the quiet moments you shared, the laughter and love that had blossomed between you over the past years. 

—

Three Days Later

Spencer hadn’t left the hospital since he arrived. The team had been by his side, offering support and keeping him company, but he barely registered their presence. All that mattered was you, and the hope that you would wake up and return to him. 

On the third day, the doctor came in with a more hopeful expression than before. He checked the monitors, made some notes, and then turned to Spencer with a small smile. 

“There’s been some improvement,” he said gently. “It’s a good sign. We’re going to try reducing the sedation and see how she responds.”

Spencer felt a flicker of hope at the words, his heart clenching with a mix of anticipation and fear. He nodded, unable to trust his voice as he watched the doctor adjust the IV line. They assured him they would keep him informed as soon as your surgery was complete and directed him to the waiting area, where he could collect himself while waiting for more information.

Spencer made his way to the waiting room, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. Memories of you together flooded his mind: the quiet evenings spent curled up on the couch, the laughter shared over inside jokes, and the whispered promises of a future together. He sat down, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, wondering what the next few hours would bring.

—

The hours stretched on interminably, each tick of the clock echoing loudly in Spencer's ears as he waited in the sterile waiting room. He couldn't bring himself to focus on anything other than the thought of you, lying in surgery, fighting for your life. The antiseptic smell of the hospital, the murmur of other patients and visitors, all faded into the background as he replayed every memory he had of you in his mind, trying to cling to the hope that you would pull through.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor approached Spencer with a solemn expression. "Dr. Reid?" the doctor asked, and Spencer quickly stood, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Yes, that's me," Spencer replied, his voice fullof hope and anxiety.

"The surgery was successful," the doctor said, offering a small, reassuring smile. "We were able to stabilize her, and she's currently in the ICU under observation."

Spencer felt a rush of relief wash over him, though the gravity of the situation was still heavy on his shoulders. "Thank you," he said sincerely, his voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you so much."

The doctor nodded, understanding the depth of Spencer's gratitude. "She's not out of the woods yet," the doctor continued, "but she's made it through the worst part. However, I need to prepare you for the possibility that there may be complications. We won't know the full extent until she regains consciousness."

Spencer nodded, taking in the doctor's words with a mix of relief and apprehension. He felt his breath catch in his throat, knowing that there was still a long road ahead, but grateful for the chance to be by your side as you began to recover.

—

You pulled through, but it wasn't without its challenges. When you finally awoke, the room was filled with the soft beeping of monitors and the faint hum of medical equipment. Everything felt disorienting as you blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, trying to make sense of where you were and what had happened.

Spencer was at your side, his eyes filled with relief and worry as he watched you stir. He reached out to take your hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You're awake."

You turned your head slightly, trying to focus on the man before you. He looked somewhat familiar, yet your mind struggled to place him. The last thing you remembered was being 18, living with your sister Emily, and yet here you were, in a hospital bed, with a stranger by your side.

"Who are you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Spencer felt his heart drop at your words, a painful realization settling in. He had hoped that when you woke up, everything would be back to normal, that you would go back to the life you had built together. But the look of confusion and fear in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"I'm Spencer," he said gently, trying to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I'm your boyfriend. We've been together for over two years. You live with me."

You shook your head slowly, trying to wrap your mind around his words. It felt like a dream, a reality you couldn't quite grasp. "No," you said, your voice breaking with frustration and fear. "I live with my sister, Emily. I don't know you."

Spencer felt a wave of sadness wash over him, but he forced himself to stay strong for you. He knew this was a possibility, that the trauma of the accident could have affected your memory, but hearing it from you was a different reality altogether. He took a deep breath, his heart aching with every word he prepared to say.

“Um, no. I—I don’t know how to tell you this, but, uh…” Spencer tried to speak through the tears coming on, his voice trembling. “You are 25 years old, Emily is 38,  and you work as a liaison for the Sex Crimes Unit in the FBI. Emily and I work together in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We met through Emily, and now you live with me. You were in a severe car accident three days ago, and you may be suffering from amnesia.”

His words hung in the air like a cloud, heavy and dense, as you struggled to process what he was telling you. The hospital room felt colder, the sterile smell more pronounced, as your mind tried to catch up with the information being presented to you. Everything he said felt distant and unfamiliar, like a story someone else was telling, not your own life.

“Amnesia?” you repeated, the word foreign on your tongue. You could feel panic beginning to rise in your chest, the fear of the unknown pressing down on you. “How is this possible? I—I don’t remember any of this.”

Spencer’s heart broke at the fear in your eyes, and he longed to reach out and comfort you. But he knew that, to you, he was a stranger, someone who claimed to know you but didn’t feel real. He had to tread carefully, to give you space to process the situation at your own pace.

“It’s okay,” Spencer said softly, his eyes filled with compassion. “I know this is a lot to take in. You’ve been through so much, and I’m here for you. We can take this one step at a time. Whatever you need, I’m here to help.”

You looked at him, studying his face for any sign of deception or recognition, but all you saw was sincerity. It was both comforting and unsettling. Here was a man who seemed to care deeply for you, yet you couldn’t find a single memory to support his claims. It was like standing at the edge of a vast, unknown ocean, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

“I just... I don’t understand how I got here,” you said, your voice small and uncertain, the edges of panic sharpening your words. Your eyes filled with tears as you grappled with the enormity of your situation. “Where’s Emily? I want to see Emily,” you added, the tears now spilling over, and you could feel your chest tighten with fear and helplessness. 

Spencer felt a painful twist in his heart as he watched you cry, the sight of your distress cutting through him like a knife. He knew how much you relied on Emily before, but he had been your rock these past years. To not be able to comfort you in your time of need tore him apart. Despite the situation, he felt a glimmer of relief that you still remembered your sister, a familiar anchor in a sea of unfamiliar faces and places.

“She’s at home sleeping. I’ll give her a call,” Spencer assured you, reaching for his phone with a steady hand, though inside he felt anything but calm. He wanted to be the one to comfort you, to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay, but he understood that right now, Emily was the person you needed most. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. You wiped at your tears, feeling both grateful and overwhelmed by the kindness of this man who seemed so determined to help you, even though you couldn’t remember him.

Spencer stepped out into the hallway to make the call, wanting to give you a moment of privacy. The hospital corridor was quiet, save for the distant murmur of medical staff and the occasional beep of machinery. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before dialing Emily’s number. 

“Spencer?” Emily’s voice was groggy but instantly alert as she answered the call, concern evident in her tone. “Is everything okay? How’s Y/N?”

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Emily, she’s awake,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “But she doesn’t remember anything from the past seven years. She thinks she’s still living with you.”

“Oh my God,” Emily breathed, the shock clear in her voice. “Is she okay? What did the doctors say?”

“They think it’s retrograde amnesia caused by the trauma of the accident,” Spencer explained, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. “She’s asking for you, Emily. She’s really scared.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Emily promised, already moving to get dressed. “Tell her I’m on my way, okay? And Spencer... thank you for being there with her. I know this must be incredibly hard for you.”

Spencer nodded, even though Emily couldn’t see him. “I’ll tell her. Drive safely.”

After ending the call, Spencer returned to your room, his heart heavy with the knowledge of how disorienting this must be for you. He found you sitting up slightly, your eyes still red from crying but showing a flicker of hope at the mention of your sister.

“Emily’s on her way,” Spencer said gently, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “She should be here soon.”

You nodded, the knowledge that Emily was coming bringing you a semblance of comfort. But still, questions swirled in your mind, the uncertainty of your situation looming large.

"Thank you, um, what was your name again?" you asked softly, your voice hesitant and tinged with the confusion that clouded your mind. 

Spencer’s heart ached at the question, a painful reminder of the gap that now existed between you. But he managed a gentle smile, determined to be patient and understanding. 

“Spencer,” he said quietly, meeting your gaze with a steady warmth. “My name is Spencer.”

You nodded slowly, trying to commit his name to memory, even though it felt like grasping at straws. There was something comforting about the way he looked at you, a sense of safety that you couldn’t quite explain.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you repeated, hoping that saying his name would help anchor you in this unfamiliar reality. Despite the overwhelming uncertainty, you felt a small sense of reassurance knowing he was there, a steady presence in the storm of your fractured memories.

—

Emily arrived at the hospital within the hour, her eyes filled with concern and determination as she made her way to your room. When she saw you, relief flooded her features, and she rushed to your side, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, reassuring embrace.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emily murmured, holding you tightly as she stroked your hair. “I’m here, Y/N. We’ll figure this out together.”

You clung to her, the familiar comfort of her presence grounding you in the midst of the chaos. For the first time since waking up, you felt a sense of safety, a reminder of the life you remembered.

Spencer watched the reunion, his heart aching with a mixture of emotions. He was grateful that Emily was there for you, knowing how much you needed her support right now. But there was also a longing, a deep-seated hope that one day, you would remember the life you had built with him, the love that had grown between you.

As you leaned into Emily's embrace, you whispered, “Can you stay with me, please?” Your voice was soft, almost childlike in its vulnerability, and Spencer’s heart clenched at the sound of it.

Emily smiled gently, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as she nodded. “Of course, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” she said, guilt tinging her words. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“It’s okay,” you replied, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “Peter is really nice.”

The misstep in Spencer's name hit him like a physical blow, and yet he understood. You were trying your best to piece things together, to make sense of the world around you, and that meant trying to fit him into a picture that didn’t quite match the reality you remembered. 

Emily glanced at Spencer, a flicker of understanding in her eyes as she gave him a supportive nod. She knew how hard this must be for him, watching you struggle to recall the love and life you shared. 

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to return Emily’s nod with a small, grateful smile. He knew that rebuilding the bridge to your past wouldn’t be easy, but he was willing to do whatever it took to help you find your way back. 

He remained quiet, a gentle presence in the background as Emily continued to comfort you, knowing that while he might not be the one you remembered now, he would do everything in his power to be the one you’d remember in the future.

—

Spencer eventually went home, the weight of the last few days pressing heavily on his shoulders. The hospital had become a second home in the wake of the accident, but now, as he drove through the familiar streets of Quantico, he felt the exhaustion finally catch up with him. 

The apartment was quiet when he arrived, the silence amplifying the absence of your presence. He dropped his bag by the door and stood in the entryway for a moment, looking around the space that had been your shared sanctuary. Everything about it—the framed photos, the little touches that marked your shared life—felt like an echo of the past he was desperate to help you remember.

He made his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water cascaded over him, washing away the grime and fatigue, but doing little to ease the turmoil inside. As the steam filled the room, Spencer closed his eyes, allowing the water to drown out the noise in his head for just a moment. 

He thought about you, lying in that hospital bed, trying to piece together a life you couldn’t remember. The thought of your struggle weighed heavily on him, and he wished more than anything that he could simply take away the burden of your amnesia. But he knew that wasn’t possible, and it frustrated him deeply.

Stepping out of the shower, Spencer wrapped a towel around his waist and caught his reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at him was etched with worry and sleepless nights. He knew he needed to rest, to recharge so he could be strong for you, but his mind was already racing with possibilities, with ways to help you find your way back to the life you had known.

Reluctantly, he made his way to the bedroom and sank into the mattress, pulling the covers over himself. 

—

When Spencer awoke, the morning light was filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. He stretched, feeling the knots in his muscles protest at the movement, but he pushed through, determined to make the most of the day ahead.

His mind immediately returned to you and the questions that had haunted him since the accident. He needed answers, a plan, something tangible he could use to help you. Rising from the bed, he quickly dressed and made his way to the library, his thoughts already churning with possibilities.

The library was quiet, a haven of knowledge waiting to be tapped into. Spencer made his way through the aisles, pulling books from the shelves with practiced ease. He found volumes on neurology, psychology, and memory restoration, stacking them on the table as he prepared to dive deep into his research.

Sitting down, Spencer opened the first book, his fingers flipping through the pages with the kind of fervor only a man on a mission possessed. He absorbed every word, every study and theory on amnesia and retrograde amnesia, searching for anything that might provide a glimmer of hope.

He read about the mechanisms of memory, the ways trauma could affect the brain's ability to store and retrieve information. He learned about the potential for memory recovery, the techniques that could aid in jogging the mind back to the present, and the importance of emotional connections in bridging the gaps.

As the hours passed, Spencer lost himself in the sea of information, each new piece of knowledge building upon the last. He scribbled notes in the margins, cross-referencing studies and compiling a mental list of strategies he could employ to help you.

It was a daunting task, but Spencer felt a sense of purpose in the research, a way to channel his love for you into something tangible. He was determined to do everything he could to help you regain your memory, to guide you back to the life you had shared together. 

For Spencer, this was more than just a quest for answers—it was a testament to the bond that had grown between you, a bond he was unwilling to let go of. He was ready to fight for your future, to be there for you in whatever capacity you needed, until the day your eyes lit up with recognition and the memories flooded back. 

With renewed resolve, Spencer closed the book he was reading, his mind buzzing with ideas and possibilities. He gathered his notes, feeling a sense of determination settle over him. He would be there for you, no matter how long it took, until you found your way back to him.

—

Spencer called Emily, feeling a slight tremor in his fingers as he punched in her number. He knew how delicate your situation was, and he didn’t want to risk upsetting you with his presence if it would cause more harm than good. As the phone rang, he took a deep breath, hoping that Emily would have some insight into how you were doing and whether it would be okay for him to visit.

“Hello?” Emily’s voice came through the line, sounding calm but tinged with exhaustion.

“Emily, it’s Spencer,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the nervousness fluttering in his chest. “I wanted to check in and see how Y/N is doing... and if it would be alright for me to come back to the hospital. I don’t want to overwhelm her, but I think I might have found some helpful information on memory restoration tactics.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and Spencer could hear the soft murmur of the hospital in the background, the distant beeps of monitors and the hushed conversations of medical staff. Emily sighed softly, and he could picture her leaning against the wall outside your room, her hand running through her hair as she considered his request.

“Spencer, she’s been asking about you,” Emily finally said, her voice gentle and reassuring. “I think she wants to start trying to piece things together a little, and having you here might actually help.”

The fragments of your past felt like pieces of a puzzle scattered across the table, and you were trying to fit them together. The memory of just having graduated college and moving in with Emily in Europe while she worked for Interpol was clear in your mind, yet the reality you were living in contradicted that memory in every way. You obviously went to college, got an important job, met someone, and fell in love. That would be nice to remember.

The thought of your life now—a life filled with achievements, meaningful relationships, and moments of joy—was enticing. You felt a sense of longing to reconnect with those parts of yourself, to remember the paths that led you to where you were today. The idea of having accomplished so much, of having people in your life who cared deeply for you, filled you with both curiosity and determination.

You sat in the hospital bed, the beeping of the monitors a constant reminder of the present, and tried to reconcile the gap between what you knew and what was real. There was a sense of urgency within you, a desire to reclaim the life that had slipped through your fingers due to the accident.

As you contemplated this, Spencer arrived, a reassuring presence amidst the confusion. He had a folder in hand, filled with information he’d painstakingly gathered to aid in your recovery. His expression was one of quiet resolve, a testament to his commitment to helping you find your way back.

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer greeted softly, taking a seat beside your bed. His eyes were warm and encouraging, and you couldn’t help but feel comforted by his presence. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve found some information that might help you remember.”

You nodded, eager to hear what he had discovered. The prospect of understanding more about your life, your achievements, and the connection you shared with Spencer filled you with hope.

Spencer opened the folder, revealing a collection of notes, articles, and studies on memory restoration and retrograde amnesia. “I’ve been looking into different techniques and therapies that could aid in restoring your memories,” he explained, his voice steady and full of purpose.

He began to outline the various strategies he had found, discussing everything from cognitive therapy and memory exercises to more experimental approaches. As he spoke, you listened intently, absorbing the possibilities and feeling a flicker of determination ignite within you.

“I believe that with the right approach and support, we can hopefully help you piece together your memories,” Spencer said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “I’m here to support you in whatever way you need. We can do this together, one step at a time.”

His words resonated with you, and you found yourself nodding along, feeling a renewed sense of hope. The idea of reclaiming your memories, of rediscovering the life you had built, felt like a light at the end of a long tunnel. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. “I want to remember.”

—

The hospital released you into Emily’s care. While the medical staff had done everything they could, the journey to regaining your memory would continue outside the hospital walls.

The decision to stay with Emily instead of Spencer hurt him, but it felt like the right choice for now. As much as Spencer wanted to be there for you, he understood the need for you to be in an environment that felt familiar and safe. The last thing he wanted was to push you further away by overwhelming you with too much, too soon.

“It’s okay,” Spencer assured you as you prepared to leave the hospital. His voice was steady, but the flicker of pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “I understand. Emily will take good care of you, and I’m just a phone call away if you need anything.”

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. A part of you felt guilty for not choosing to stay with him, especially considering how kind and supportive he had been. But the gaps in your memory left you feeling adrift, and being with Emily was like holding onto a piece of your past that still made sense. Besides, he was still technically a stranger.

—

The drive to yours and Spencer’s apartment was quiet, Emily navigating the streets with the ease of someone who knew them well. You sat in the passenger seat, watching the city pass by, anticipation and apprehension swirling within you. This was a chance to see the life you had built, to find clues that might help bridge the chasm between the past you remembered and the present you couldn’t grasp.

Arriving at the apartment building, you felt a sense of déjà vu, as if you had been here countless times before, but it was all shrouded in fog. Emily led you up to the front door, her presence reassuring and calm as she unlocked it and gestured for you to step inside.

The apartment was warm and inviting, filled with little touches that spoke of a life shared between two people. You took a tentative step inside, your eyes scanning the space as you tried to grasp any spark of recognition. The furniture, the décor, the scent of your favorite candle burning on the coffee table—everything felt just out of reach.

But it was the photographs that caught your attention, lining the walls and filling the shelves with captured moments of happiness and love. You walked over to a series of framed photos, your heart aching at the sight of the images. There you were, smiling and laughing with Spencer, your faces filled with joy.

There was a picture of the two of you on a hiking trip, arms around each other as you gazed at the camera, the sun setting behind you. Another of you dancing together at what appeared to be a wedding, Spencer’s hand on the small of your back, your face lit with laughter.

And then there was the one that brought tears to your eyes—an image of you and Spencer sharing a tender kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand gently holding your waist while the other stretched out to hold the camera. The love captured in that single moment was undeniable, and yet it was a memory you couldn’t access, a chapter of your life that felt painfully distant.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the weight of what you had lost settled over you. You turned away from the photos, covering your face with your hands as sobs wracked your body. The sadness was overwhelming, a deep, unbearable grief for the beautiful life you couldn’t remember.

Emily was at your side in an instant, her arm wrapping around you as she whispered soothing words, trying to calm the storm of emotions that had taken hold.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking with the depth of your sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I wish I could remember. I wish I could—”

Spencer’s expression was filled with compassion and understanding, though his heart ached at the sight of your distress. He longed to reach out and hold you, to reassure you that it was okay, that you would find your way back to him in time. But he knew that the memories were something you had to reclaim on your own.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer said gently, his voice soft and comforting. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Despite his reassuring words, the pain of not being able to remember was too much to bear. You were inconsolable, and Emily could see that you needed space to process everything, away from the emotional overload of the apartment.

“Let’s go home, Y/N,” Emily suggested softly, guiding you toward the door with a gentle touch. “We can come back another time when you’re ready.”

You nodded, allowing her to lead you away, the tears still streaming down your face. Spencer watched as Emily escorted you out, his heart heavy with sadness. 

—

The following Monday, the next step in your recovery journey was to visit your workplace, a place where you had spent countless hours building a career you could no longer remember. The decision to bring you back into the office was made with the hope that it might jog some of your lost memories, and while it felt daunting, you were determined to face it head-on.

Emily drove you to the FBI headquarters, the massive building both imposing and familiar as you approached. You had been nervous about this visit, unsure of how it would make you feel or what it might stir within you. Your unit chief had been extremely understanding about your situation, assuring you that you had all the time you needed to recover and that your job would be waiting for you if and when you were ready to return. The possibility of never coming back loomed large, but today was about exploring what felt right.

As you walked through the corridors, passing colleagues who greeted you with warm smiles and words of encouragement, you felt a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. The familiarity of the surroundings tugged at the edges of your mind, teasing you with whispers of recognition that were just out of reach.

When you finally reached your desk, something shifted within you. A small sense of familiarity washed over you, grounding you in a way that you hadn't expected. The space was uniquely yours, decorated with personal touches that reflected your personality and interests. The colorful keyboard and mouse pad, the photos adorning your workspace, all felt like pieces of yourself that you were slowly rediscovering.

Emily stood beside you, watching as you took it all in. Her presence was reassuring, a steady hand on your shoulder as you navigated the myriad of emotions swirling within you.

"This is your desk," Emily said gently, gesturing to the array of decorations and mementos that made it uniquely yours. 

You ran your fingers over the keyboard, tracing the familiar keys, and then turned your attention to the photos. There were images of you and Emily from your first apartment together in D.C., snapshots of a time when life felt full of possibility and adventure. Your eyes lingered on the photos of you and Spencer, capturing moments of joy and love that you desperately wished to remember.

One photo, in particular, caught your eye. It was of you and another person, both of you with wide smiles, arms wrapped tightly around each other, faces pressed together in a display of friendship and affection. The bond between you was evident, even in a still image, and you felt a pang of longing to recall the memories associated with it.

“Who are all of these people?” you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of sadness.

Emily leaned in, pointing to the photo of you and the person who seemed to be a close friend. “That is your best friend, Noah,” she explained. Her smile was warm, the fondness for your friendship evident in her tone. “You two have been inseparable for years. They’ve been by your side through thick and thin.”

You studied the photo, trying to summon any fragment of memory, but the connection eluded you. Still, it was comforting to know that you had someone like Noah in your life, a constant presence of support and friendship.

Emily then pointed to another photo, this one featuring a large group of people gathered in a spacious kitchen that looked to be part of a grand mansion. The scene was lively and filled with laughter, the closeness between everyone palpable even in a photograph.

“And that,” Emily said, gesturing to the group photo, “is my team. The Behavioral Analysis Unit, at David Rossi’s house for pasta and wine. It’s a tradition of ours to get together and unwind after a long week. You’ve become a part of that tradition too.”

The photo brought a sense of warmth and belonging that tugged at your heartstrings. Though you couldn’t remember the specifics of the event, the image conveyed a sense of community and acceptance, a reminder that you were surrounded by people who cared for you deeply.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—gratefulness for the connections you had forged, sadness for the memories that remained out of reach, and determination to piece it all together. As overwhelming as it was, the visit to your workplace had sparked something within you, a desire to reclaim the life you had lost and reconnect with the people who meant so much to you.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Emily,” you said softly, turning to your sister with gratitude in your eyes.

Emily smiled, her hand squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “You’re doing great, Y/N.”

—

After spending some time familiarizing yourself with your desk and the environment, you felt a little more grounded. Emily suggested taking a break, and the two of you made your way to the break room for some coffee. The small talk and casual atmosphere provided a sense of normalcy, and you found yourself relaxing into the environment, even if it still felt like you were seeing it all for the first time.

As you sipped your coffee, Emily shared stories about the team, painting vivid pictures of the friendships that had developed over the years. Her words were filled with warmth, and you could sense the deep bond that connected everyone in the unit.

“–and then you and Penelope performed as much of the Rent musical as you could while Spencer took you home from girls' night.”

You laughed, a joyous feeling after all the sadness and confusion you’d been wearing like a cloud. It felt good to feel lighthearted again, if only for a moment, and the image of yourself belting out show tunes with Penelope at the top of your lungs was both hilarious and comforting.

“Was he mad?” you asked, picturing the scene in your mind.

“Quite the opposite,” Emily said, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the memory. “He asked you out the next week at work.”

“That’s so sweet,” you said, a warm glow spreading through you at the thought of Spencer’s patience and kindness. 

“He really loves you,” Emily added, her voice gentle and full of sincerity. 

You looked down at your coffee cup, a mix of emotions swirling within you. “I just can’t believe I’m loved so much by someone I don’t remember,” you said softly, your words carrying the weight of your current reality. 

Spencer hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but as he was walking to the break room, your voice reached his ears, and he froze just outside the door. The sound of your laughter was like music to him, a familiar melody he had sorely missed since the accident. It felt normal to hear you in the building, like it had been before, a sense of déjà vu that was both comforting and bittersweet.

But hearing that last snippet of conversation—that you couldn’t believe you were loved by someone you didn’t remember—was like a punch to the gut. It was a reminder of how much had been lost, how fragile the threads of your connection had become in the wake of your amnesia.

Spencer’s heart clenched with longing and sadness. He wanted to be there with you, to share in the laughter and help rebuild the life you had once shared. Yet, he also knew that the path to healing was not a straight line and that you needed time to find your footing.

With a heavy heart, Spencer decided against going into the break room. He felt it would be too much to face you right then, knowing that he was part of the gap in your memory. He turned on his heel, heading back to his desk with a resolve to give you the space you needed while still being there for you in whatever way he could.

Back in his office, Spencer tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept drifting back to you and the conversation he had overheard. He wished he could do more, be more, to help you remember. The thought of the love you had shared, a love you now couldn’t recall, weighed heavily on him.

—

Over the next few weeks, life became a series of ups and downs, filled with moments of both clarity and confusion. Living with Emily had its comforting moments—her presence a soothing balm to the chaos in your mind. You cherished the time you spent with her, grateful for the bond that had been rekindled. You missed Emily deeply during high school, and living with her felt like a second chance to reconnect and make up for lost time. 

But the reason for your reunion weighed heavily on you. You were so happy to be living with Emily again, until you remembered why. Some nights, the memories—or lack thereof—were overwhelming, and you’d find yourself crying silently into your pillow, grieving for the life you learned about but couldn’t recall. You mourned for the person you once were, the experiences you’d lost, and the love you had built with Spencer, a man who was now a stranger in your life.

In those darker moments, a part of you wondered if a second accident could somehow reverse the damage, though you knew deep down that it wouldn’t work. The thought was fleeting, a desperate whisper in your mind, quickly silenced by the knowledge that the path to healing lay elsewhere.

You wanted to love Spencer, you really did. Everything you’d learned about him painted a picture of a man who was kind, intelligent, and deeply devoted to you. But every time you looked at him, all you felt was a sense of apathy and resentment. It was an unfair burden, one you didn’t want to carry but couldn’t seem to shake. He knew you, but you didn’t know him. He had gotten to know the you that you couldn’t remember, had built a life with a version of yourself that no longer existed. 

Safe to say, you hadn’t spoken to anyone but Emily since that day at Spencer’s apartment. Despite Emily’s best efforts to coax you out of your shell, to encourage you to re-engage with the world, you found solace only in her presence. She would suggest small outings, opportunities to reintroduce you to the life you’d lived—a coffee date with Penelope, a lunch with Noah, a casual dinner with the BAU team—but you declined each invitation with a sense of dread.

—

Emily understood your reluctance, though she worried about the isolation you were imposing on yourself. She was patient, never pushing too hard, but she tried her best to gently encourage you to take those first steps toward reconnecting with your life.

"Y/N," she said one afternoon as you both sat in the living room, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. "I know it’s hard, but you have so many people who care about you. They’re all here, ready to support you whenever you’re ready."

You nodded, your eyes fixed on the floor. “I know,” you replied softly, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness. “I just... I don’t know how to face them, Emily. It’s like they’re expecting me to be someone I’m not.”

Emily reached over, taking your hand in hers, her grip reassuring. “They’re not expecting anything,” she said gently. “They just want to be there for you, to help you find your way back. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be with you.”

Despite her words, the idea of facing Spencer or any of your friends felt daunting. It wasn’t just about remembering; it was about rebuilding a sense of self that had been shattered by the accident. You felt like a puzzle with missing pieces, unsure of how to fit back into the picture of your own life.

—

One night, as you lay in bed, the weight of it all pressed heavily on your chest. You stared at the ceiling, the darkness a mirror to the emptiness you felt inside. The person you were before the accident seemed like a ghost, haunting the edges of your consciousness, taunting you with glimpses of a life you couldn’t quite grasp.

Tears slipped silently down your cheeks as you grieved for the life you’d lost, for the love that was now a distant memory. It felt like an insurmountable chasm between the past and present, a gap you couldn’t bridge no matter how hard you tried.

You curled up under the covers, wishing for relief from the emotional storm, longing for a sense of belonging that remained elusive. But as much as you yearned for the past, you knew the journey to healing had to start from where you were now—from this moment, with its uncertainties and challenges.

Emily found you the next morning, the traces of tears still visible on your face. She didn’t say anything, simply pulled you into a hug, offering her silent support. You leaned into her embrace, grateful for the unconditional love and understanding she provided.

“I’m here, Y/N,” Emily murmured, her voice steady and reassuring. “Whenever you’re ready to take that next step, I’m here.”

—

On a random Tuesday morning, you regained a glimpse of yourself. It was an ordinary day, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you padded into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Emily was already there, pouring herself a cup and offering you a warm smile as you entered.

"Good morning," she said, her voice carrying the comforting tone you had come to rely on over the past few weeks.

“Did I bring any files home?” you asked, the question slipping out naturally as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I want to review the Cooper case.”

Emily whipped around so fast she thought she might get whiplash, her eyes wide with shock and a glimmer of hope. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice almost trembling with anticipation.

“The Cooper case?” you repeated, frowning slightly as you tried to grasp the memory that felt just within reach. “Oh, I wanted to review the evidence for the upcoming trial. I want to make sure that son of a bitch gets locked away.”

Emily’s face lit up with astonishment and disbelief, a slow grin spreading across her features. “Y/N… how do you remember that?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe.

“What?” you blinked, the realization dawning on you like a gentle wave, the fog lifting ever so slightly. “Oh…” you murmured, the pieces clicking into place.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! I remember!” you exclaimed, your heart pounding with excitement and relief.

“Do you remember anything else?” Emily asked eagerly, stepping closer as if to catch every word.

“My, um, my unit chief… her name is, uh, Sarah Freeman!” you said, a smile breaking across your face as more fragments of memory bubbled to the surface. It was like pulling on a thread and watching a tapestry unfold before your eyes.

“That’s amazing! You’re amazing!” Emily cheered, her eyes shining with pride and joy. She grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly as if to anchor this precious moment in reality. “I’m going to call your doctor! Keep thinking!”

You nodded, your mind racing with possibilities. There was a thrill in the air, a sense of rediscovery that felt like sunlight streaming into a darkened room. 

—

As the days and weeks passed, your world gradually came into sharper focus. You began to remember more and more, and your doctors believed that your brain was finally healing from the trauma of the accident, allowing you to access information that had been temporarily locked away. It was as if the fog that had settled over your mind was beginning to lift, and the memories of your life were emerging from the shadows.

With each passing day, you started seeing people more. The familiarity of their faces and the warmth of their presence became less overwhelming and more comforting. You remembered small bits of Noah, moving in with Emily, a few girls’ nights, and coffee dates with Penelope. Each memory was like a small gift, a piece of the puzzle that was slowly coming together.

Whenever you shared a memory with someone, it was met with tears of joy and hugs of relief. They were all so patient and understanding, celebrating every little moment of rediscovery with you. It was a testament to the love and support that surrounded you, a constant reminder that you were not alone on this journey.

—

With your birthday approaching, the excitement in the air was palpable. Everyone was thrilled that they would at least get to celebrate with you, even if the memories of past birthdays were still hazy. The anticipation of the party, the chance to be surrounded by the people who meant so much to you, filled you with a sense of hope and gratitude.

The only person you couldn’t seem to remember, however, was Spencer. Despite the progress you were making with others, there was an inexplicable block when it came to him. It was as if the memories you shared were trapped behind a door that refused to open, no matter how hard you tried. 

Spencer felt the weight of this exclusion acutely. While everyone else reveled in your regained memories, he remained on the outside, watching as you reconnected with the life you’d once shared. At first, he tried to be patient, understanding that recovery was a complex and unpredictable process. But as time went on and the memories continued to elude you, Spencer began to feel a growing frustration, a simmering resentment that he struggled to contain.

—

The night of your birthday party arrived, and Emily had invited everyone important to you: the BAU team, Noah, your unit chief, and colleagues. The apartment was filled with laughter and music, the air buzzing with the joy of celebration. You moved through the crowd, receiving hugs and well-wishes, feeling more like yourself than you had in months.

The party was a joyful affair, filled with the warmth of friends and loved ones, each of them eager to share in the celebration of your continued recovery. You spent time with everyone, enjoying the opportunity to catch up and reconnect. 

You found yourself talking to Derek Morgan, recounting a small memory that had surfaced earlier in the day—a humorous moment from a case your units had worked on together. Derek’s laughter echoed through the room, a rich, joyful sound that drew the attention of others nearby. 

Spencer overheard your conversation with Derek and felt the frustration within him build past his boiling point. It was like a dam breaking, all the emotions he had tried to keep in check spilling over into an overwhelming wave. The exclusion, the constant reminder that you remembered everyone but him, finally pushed him to the edge.

Unable to contain his feelings any longer, Spencer stormed past you, his shoulder bumping into yours as he made his way toward the front door. The suddenness of his actions caught you off guard, the usually sweet and gentle Spencer now a storm of emotions.

“Spencer?” you called after him, confused by the abruptness of his departure. You quickly excused yourself from Derek and followed Spencer, determined to understand what had upset him.

You found Spencer in the hallway of the building, his back turned to you as he tried to compose himself. But when he turned around, you saw the angry tears in his eyes, the hurt etched across his features. It was a side of Spencer you hadn’t seen before, and it unsettled you.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice gentle but firm, wanting to understand the source of his pain.

He took a deep breath, his emotions churning within him. The question felt like a catalyst, igniting the frustration and hurt he had been holding onto for so long. And then, finally, he exploded, the words tumbling out in a torrent of anger and anguish.

“Why, Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was raw, filled with desperation and resentment. “Why do you remember everyone but me? Do you secretly remember me but don’t know how to break it off, so you keep pretending you don’t know me?”

His accusation hung in the air, sharp and cutting. It was a blow that took your breath away, the depth of his pain evident in every word. Spencer’s eyes bore into yours, searching for answers, for some explanation that could make sense of the exclusion he felt so deeply.

“I’m not pretending, Spencer,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, the shock of his words settling over you like a heavy fog. “I wish I could remember. I want to remember you more than anything.”

Spencer’s expression shifted, hurt and frustration warring within him. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “It just feels like... like I’m the only one left out,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I watch you remember all these moments, all these people, and I keep hoping that one day you’ll look at me and just... know.”

His words hung in the air, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you—a distance neither of you wanted, but couldn’t seem to bridge. It was like standing on opposite sides of a vast chasm, reaching for one another but never quite able to touch.

“You think this is easy for me?” you shot back, your voice rising with each word. “Do you think I wanted to get hit by a semi and lose my memories? No! I want it all back, I want my life back.” You took a step closer, the intensity of your emotions propelling you forward. “Do you know how much it kills me that you know a version of me that I don’t? You want her back, and so do I, but Jesus Christ, Spencer! I’m not her, I can’t just be her, I’m fucking trying, okay?”

The hallway seemed to close in around you as you stood there, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise at the raw honesty in your voice, the depth of your struggle laid bare before him.

“I know you’re trying,” Spencer said, his voice softening even as his frustration simmered beneath the surface. “But it’s so hard to watch you remember everyone else and not me. It feels like I’m losing you all over again, every single day.”

"I’m losing myself too!” you replied, your voice breaking with emotion. “Every time I remember something, it’s like I’m meeting a stranger who’s supposed to be me. It’s terrifying, and I don’t know how to make it better. And it doesn’t help when I’m constantly reminded that you’re disappointed in me too.”

Spencer ran a hand over his face, his own anger and hurt warring with the compassion he still felt for you. He wanted to say the right thing, but his emotions were tangled, pulling him in different directions. The frustration that had built up over the weeks finally met the compassion he still felt for you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the fight leaving his voice as he took a step back, trying to regain control. His eyes softened as he looked at you, the anger giving way to vulnerability. “I know it’s not fair to put this on you. God, I’m not disappointed in you, I’m just... I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared that I’ll never get you back.”

The vulnerability in his words pierced through your own defenses, the rawness of his confession echoing the fears that had plagued you both. It was as if the anger that had fueled the argument had stripped away the layers, leaving only the truth of your shared fears and insecurities.

You sighed, your own anger giving way to a wave of exhaustion and sadness. The argument had drained you both, leaving behind a hollow ache that you couldn’t ignore. “I’m scared too,” you admitted, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I’m scared that I’ll never be able to remember the love we had, that I’ll never be able to be the person you fell in love with.”

Spencer's eyes met yours, and you could see the struggle within him—the longing to reach out and bridge the gap between you, the desire to hold onto the love that had once been so strong and certain. “You’re still the person I fell in love with,” he said softly, his voice tinged with desperation. “I know it’s hard to see right now, but you are. And I don’t want to lose you, even if it means starting over.”

His words hung in the air, a lifeline thrown across the chasm that had opened between you. You took a deep breath, the weight of his words. 

“Can I ask you something?” Spencer spoke up, his voice laced with vulnerability. His eyes held yours, searching for an answer he seemed afraid to hear but needed to know nonetheless.

“Of course,” you replied, curious about what was weighing so heavily on him. You wanted to reassure him, to offer some comfort amid the storm of emotions that had engulfed you both.

“Do you find me attractive?” Spencer’s question was simple, yet it held a complexity of emotions—self-doubt, insecurity, a desire for reassurance.

“Spencer… what?” you asked, taken aback by the suddenness of his inquiry. You hadn’t expected that question, and yet, as you looked at him, you realized how important your answer would be.

He shifted his weight, his gaze dropping for a moment before returning to yours, the raw honesty in his expression clear as day. “Do you think that I am attractive? Even now, that you don’t remember me?”

You considered his question carefully. Spencer was undeniably an attractive person—his features were striking, with a gentle kindness in his eyes and a quiet strength in his posture. There was an undeniable allure to him, a magnetic pull that you felt even in your current state of confusion. 

You imagined seeing him in a bar or a crowded room, where his presence would stand out, where you would undoubtedly look twice. His intelligence, the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, and the kindness in his eyes were all qualities that would draw you in.

“Yes,” you replied honestly, your voice steady and sincere. “Yes, Spencer, I find you attractive.”

Spencer let out a small breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he absorbed your answer. There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, a subtle shift that spoke volumes about how much your opinion mattered to him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice a blend of gratitude and something deeper, something that felt like hope.

You took a step closer, wanting to close the distance between you. “Spencer, it’s not just about looks,” you added, wanting to make him understand. “I may not remember everything, but I can see the person you are. The way you care, the way you’ve been so patient with me… that’s what makes you truly attractive.”

His lips curved into a tentative smile, the tension in his features easing as your words reached him. It was a smile that held the promise of new beginnings, a shared understanding that even in the absence of memory, there was a foundation upon which you could rebuild.

Spencer nodded, a small chuckle escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture you found endearing. “I guess I just needed to hear it,” he admitted, his vulnerability laid bare in that moment.

You nodded, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “We’ll figure it out,” you said, your voice filled with determination.

Spencer's fingers intertwined with yours, his touch gentle yet reassuring. The simple act of holding hands felt like a small victory, a step toward rebuilding the connection that had been so abruptly severed.

“You couldn’t possibly remember this,” Spencer said with a wry smile, “but I don’t usually touch people’s hands. It’s actually safer to kiss; fewer germs are spread that way.”

You let out a laugh, the tension between you dissolving into a moment of lightness. It was the first genuine laugh you'd shared since the accident, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” you replied, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin. “But if that’s a line, it’s not working.”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s not a line, I promise,” he said, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Just one of those strange facts about me you’ll probably hear more about as you get to know me again.”

“Good to know,” you said, your smile softening into something more sincere. “But for now, hand-holding is just fine.”

—

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and joy, a celebration not just of your birthday but of the progress you had made and the hope that lay ahead. Surrounded by friends and loved ones, you felt a sense of belonging, a reminder that even in the midst of adversity, there was a community that held you close.

As the night drew to a close, you and Spencer stood together on the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance like stars. It was a moment of quiet reflection, a chance to breathe and appreciate the small victories that had brought you to this point.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Spencer said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that resonated deep within you. 

You turned to him, your heart full of gratitude and the promise of what was to come. “Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, your words laced with sincerity.

—

“Y/N! Spencer is here for you!” Emily called out from the living room, her voice carrying through the apartment with an excited lilt that made you smile.

You were in your bedroom, putting the finishing touches on your outfit, excitement and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. Today marked your fifth date with Spencer, a milestone that felt both exhilarating and significant as the two of you continued to rebuild your relationship from the ground up.

The past few weeks had been a journey of rediscovery. You and Spencer had taken it slow, giving each other the space and time needed to navigate the complexities of your situation. Each date had been a new beginning, a chance to learn about each other all over again, and it had been going well—better than you had dared to hope.

You’d spent hours talking about everything and nothing, sharing stories and memories that both filled in the gaps and created new ones. There were still moments of hesitation and uncertainty, but they were gradually being replaced by laughter and warmth, a growing sense of familiarity that felt like home.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you adjusted your necklace and took a deep breath, feeling a thrill of anticipation for the evening ahead. You made your way to the living room, where Emily was chatting with Spencer, her eyes lighting up with the kind of mischief only a big sister could muster.

“Hey, Spencer,” you greeted him with a smile, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest that had become a welcome sensation. “Ready to go?”

Spencer turned toward you, his face breaking into a warm smile that made your heart skip a beat. He looked dapper in a casual blazer and slacks, an outfit that struck the perfect balance between relaxed and stylish.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he said, his eyes filled with admiration as he took in your appearance. "If I had known you were going to look this stunning, I would have worn my best suit."

You laughed, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, please, you look great," you replied, meeting his gaze with a teasing grin. “Besides, I think we match perfectly. You know, two fashion icons taking on the city."

Emily watched the exchange with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased to see the chemistry between you and Spencer reigniting. She gave you a playful nudge, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. “Have fun, you two,” she said, ushering you toward the door. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes at Emily’s antics, before turning back to Spencer. “Shall we?” you asked, extending your hand toward him.

Spencer took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that sent a reassuring pulse of connection between you. “We shall,” he replied with a grin, leading you out the door and into the evening that awaited.

—

The drive was filled with easy conversation, the kind that flowed naturally and effortlessly between you. You chatted about everything from work to your favorite TV shows, reveling in the comfort of each other’s company.

“So, where are we going tonight?” you asked, curious about the plans Spencer had made for your date.

“It’s a surprise,” he said cryptically, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “But I think you’re going to love it.”

“Really?” you said, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Are you sure it’s not just another one of your ploys to impress me?”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Would it be working if it was?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” you teased, giving him a flirtatious glance as the car continued through the city.

Eventually, you arrived at a charming little restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was the kind of place that exuded warmth and intimacy, the cozy ambiance inviting you in as soon as you stepped through the door.

“Wow, this place is lovely,” you said, taking in the dim lighting, the soft music playing in the background, and the delicious aroma of Italian cuisine wafting through the air.

Spencer smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I thought it might be a nice spot for us to relax and enjoy some good food,” he said, leading you to a table by the window that offered a view of the city lights twinkling in the distance.

“So, any more memories come back recently?” Spencer asked gently, his tone curious yet considerate, as if he knew the subject was still delicate.

You nodded, feeling a flicker of excitement as you recounted some of the fragments that had returned. “I remembered a trip I took with Emily last year to the beach. We ended up getting caught in a rainstorm and had to take cover in this little café, where we spent the afternoon playing board games. It was such a fun day.”

Spencer listened intently, a smile tugging at his lips as you spoke. “That sounds amazing,” he said, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “You know, we had a similar rainy day adventure once. It involved an umbrella, a very wet cat, and an impromptu rendition of Singin’ in the Rain in a park.”

“Did we now?” you replied, a playful twinkle in your eyes. “Are you sure you weren’t just trying to get me to fall for your charming rendition of a classic?”

“Guilty as charged,” Spencer admitted with a laugh, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart flutter.

“Tell me, though, did we kiss in the rain?” you asked, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Spencer blushed, a charming pink spreading across his cheeks. “We might have…”

“How scandalous!” you replied, feigning shock, but the playful glint in your eyes gave you away.

“You were the one who initiated it!” Spencer shot back, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh yeah, am I just supposed to believe you?” you teased, leaning back in your chair with a smirk. “You could be making it all up just to impress me.”

“Well,” Spencer said, a hint of mischief in his voice, “it is supposed to rain later. We could test out the theory.”

“Spencer Reid, you dog!” you exclaimed, laughing at the thought of dancing in the rain with him.

You shared a laugh, the sound mingling with the gentle hum of the restaurant around you. It felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

—

After dinner, you and Spencer strolled through a scenic path in the park, hand in hand. The night was pleasantly cool, and the stars dotted the sky like scattered jewels. The conversation between you flowed effortlessly, a blend of teasing and genuine connection that made the evening feel special.

“I thought it was supposed to rain?” you mused aloud, glancing up at the sky.

“Are you disappointed it’s not?” Spencer asked, a playful edge in his voice as he followed your gaze.

“Are you going to kiss me anyway?” you replied with a teasing smile, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Spencer froze up for a moment, caught off guard by the boldness of your question. A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind, each one tangling with the next. 

He had been nervous to make any moves on you ever since you’d started dating again. What if you didn’t like how he kissed anymore? Or his scent, or taste? What if you two didn't have rhythm anymore? The fear of these possibilities had kept him in check, cautious and tentative.

“What’s going on in that big brain?” you asked, your voice gentle and full of curiosity. You squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present. Your touch was reassuring, a reminder that the connection between you was as strong as ever.

Spencer shook his head slightly, chuckling at himself. “Just... overthinking, as usual,” he admitted, meeting your eyes with a sheepish grin. “I’ve just been worried that maybe things aren’t the same between us.”

You tilted your head, regarding him with a soft smile. “Spencer, nothing about you could ever disappoint me. We might be rebuilding things, but I think that’s what makes it exciting. We get to discover everything all over again.”

He nodded, his apprehension slowly melting away as your words resonated with him. The sincerity in your voice was like a balm, soothing the insecurities that had plagued him.

“And besides,” you added with a playful twinkle in your eye, “I think we both know we’ve still got that spark.”

Spencer laughed, his tension finally breaking as he took a step closer. The warmth of your presence enveloped him, and he realized how much he had missed these moments with you—the teasing, the laughter, and the unspoken bond that seemed to transcend the gap of memory.

“You’re right,” Spencer said, his voice softening as he gazed into your eyes. “I’d be more than happy to kiss you, rain or no rain.”

You smiled up at him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. As he leaned in, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you beneath the starlit sky.

When Spencer’s lips met yours, it was like coming home. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration of the familiar territory that quickly blossomed into something deeper. His lips were soft and warm, and the familiar scent of his skin surrounded you like a comforting embrace. 

All the previous worries melted away as you found your rhythm together, the familiarity and connection more than you could have hoped for. Spencer’s kiss was tender but charged with an intensity that made your heart race, a reminder of the passion and warmth that had always been at the core of your relationship.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles beneath your fingertips. Spencer responded in kind, his hands finding their place on your face, drawing you into him as if he was afraid to let go. 

The kiss deepened, and it was as if time had stopped, the world around you fading away until only the two of you remained. Lips slotted together perfectly, tongues gliding in a slow, sensual dance that sent shivers down your spine. 

You felt Spencer’s teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip, a playful gesture that made you gasp softly against his mouth. The small sound seemed to spur him on, and you could feel the gentle pressure of his hands pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. 

In that moment, everything felt right—the way his lips moved against yours, the warmth of his touch, and the gentle thrum of your heartbeat syncing with his. It was a moment of pure connection, a dance of lips and breath and emotion that left you both feeling dizzy and alive. 

You could feel the tension and uncertainty of the past few weeks melting away, replaced by a deep sense of belonging and peace. As you finally pulled back, you looked into Spencer’s eyes, seeing your own emotions reflected back at you—the warmth, the longing, the hope that you both shared.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless but smiling, the shared moment leaving a lingering warmth that seemed to wrap around you both.

“Wow,” you murmured, gazing up at Spencer with a soft, genuine smile. “That was... perfect.”

Spencer chuckled, relief and joy evident in his eyes. “I’d say it was pretty amazing,” he agreed, still holding you close.

You both lingered there for a while, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, the cool breeze whispering through the trees, the world feeling just a little bit brighter.

—

As you continued your stroll through the park, the clouds did open up, and the rain did come, soaking both you and Spencer. The unexpected shower was a sudden thrill, droplets of water cascading down your hair and cheeks, drenching your clothes in moments. The rain brought a fresh, invigorating scent to the air, wrapping around you like a cool embrace as you and Spencer burst into laughter.

“You said you wanted rain,” Spencer quipped, looking at you with a playful glint in his eye, water droplets clinging to his hair and eyelashes.

“I did, didn’t I?” you giggled, brushing a lock of wet hair out of your face. You both sprinted toward his car, shoes splashing through puddles, the sound of your laughter mingling with the rhythm of the rain.

You reached the car, breathless and exhilarated, climbing inside and closing the door behind you. The heated air enveloped you both in a welcome warmth, and you shivered slightly, feeling the chill of your soaked clothes. 

Spencer turned on the car’s heater, and soon the air filled with warmth, contrasting the rain still pelting the car roof outside. You shared a look of amusement, the shared adventure bringing a delightful sense of connection.

“I don’t want to go home, but I’m uncomfortable,” you admitted, glancing down at your soaked clothes with a bemused smile. 

“We could… go back to our—my apartment and change. Maybe watch a movie?” Spencer suggested, his voice soft and inviting, a hint of hesitation in his words as if worried you might say no.

You met his eyes, the warmth in them offering reassurance. “I’d love that,” you replied, your heart fluttering with the anticipation of spending more time with him.

—

Spencer drove you both back to the apartment, the windshield wipers swishing rhythmically as the rain continued its steady drumming against the car. It was your first time returning to the apartment since the night you’d cried there, overwhelmed by the weight of memories you couldn’t quite grasp. But now, the thought of revisiting felt different, less daunting and more like a step forward.

As you entered the apartment, you paused to take it all in again—the familiar scent, the little touches that made the space feel like home. Spencer watched you with a gentle smile, allowing you to explore at your own pace, offering silent support as you reacquainted yourself with the surroundings.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Spencer asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “All of your stuff is still in there.”

“Um, sure. Thank you,” you replied, grateful for the chance to shake off the chill of the rain.

You made your way to the bathroom, feeling a sense of nostalgia as you stepped inside and closed the door behind you. The shower was just as you remembered it, a familiar haven of warmth and comfort.

The water was soothing as it cascaded over you, washing away the rain and the lingering remnants of the day’s adventure. You felt a sense of relaxation settling in, a quiet moment of peace as you let the warmth envelop you.

But then, as you turned too quickly, your foot slipped, and you fell onto your tailbone with a startled yelp. 

“Ow!” you exclaimed, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain.

“Y/N?? Are you okay?” Spencer’s voice called out from the other side of the door, filled with concern.

“Yeah! I just fell,” you called back, trying to keep your tone light despite the embarrassment.

“I’m coming in,” Spencer announced, the worry evident in his voice.

“Wait, Spencer, no—” you began, but he was already in the bathroom, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

He saw your naked form on the ground of the tub through the clear glass, his expression filled with worry and, perhaps, just a touch of awkwardness.

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and amusement.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” he asked, his concern overriding any sense of propriety.

“I’m fine, I’m naked!” you replied, laughing at the absurdity of the situation even as you tried to cover yourself.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Spencer said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I forget. I’ve seen you naked many times.”

“That is so weird,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully.

Spencer laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “I don’t think so,” he said, his voice softening into something more tender.

“Can I see you then? Even it out?” you asked, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“What?” Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink.

“I’ve seen you naked before, right?” you continued, your playful tone belying the genuine affection in your gaze.

“Well, yes, but it’s different,” Spencer stammered, trying to maintain his composure.

“So it’s okay for you to see me, but not for me to see you?” you challenged, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Come get in the shower and help me up.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then his expression softened into a smile, affection and delight playing across his features. “Alright,” he said, his voice filled with laughter. “Just this once.”

He quickly shed his clothes and joined you in the shower, his presence a comforting warmth amid the steam and water. With a gentle touch, he helped you up, his hands steady and reassuring as he held you close.

“Thank you,” you said softly, meeting his eyes with a smile. 

Spencer’s gaze was warm and tender, his hands lingering on your waist as he smiled back at you. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice a gentle promise. 

Your eyes couldn’t help themselves as they wandered downward, taking in the sight of him. The realization that you were both standing there, unashamedly bare, brought a new kind of awareness that was both amusing and endearing.

“Y/N!” Spencer laughed. “Eyes up here.”

“I'm sorry,” you said with a playful smirk, your eyes darting back up to meet his. “It’s human nature, after all.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. “But at least pretend to be subtle.”

“You’re quite large,” you teased, unable to resist the opportunity to keep the mood light. “Are you a grower still? Or always a shower?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep red, his hands instinctively moving to cover himself as he groaned, “Oh my godddd.”

“Answer the question, and I’ll shut up,” you promised, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you looked at him with mock innocence.

With a sigh of resignation, Spencer removed his hands, his expression a mix of bashfulness and humor. “Still a grower,” he admitted, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Lucky me!” you exclaimed, your tone full of playful triumph.

Spencer shook his head, his laughter infectious as he declared, “Not anymore, this was great. Goodbye!” He made a half-hearted attempt to step out of the shower, clearly feigning an exaggerated exit.

“Not so fast!” you interjected, grabbing his arm and pulling him back gently, your own laughter bubbling up as you did so.

His eyes met yours again, and the playful banter settled into something softer, a mutual understanding that transcended words. The silliness of the moment gave way to a quiet intimacy, the kind that came from truly seeing one another and finding joy in simply being together.

As the water continued to rain down, you and Spencer stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence, feeling a sense of comfort and safety that went beyond the physical. 

You both eventually turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, towels wrapped snugly around you. The steam-filled bathroom felt like a private world where the rest of the day’s worries faded away.

—

Once dried and dressed in cozy clothes, you settled into the living room, the aroma of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air as you curled up on the couch together. The rain had stopped outside, leaving a soft patter of droplets against the windows, the perfect backdrop for a cozy movie night.

Spencer draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “So, what’s our viewing pleasure tonight?” he asked, his voice filled with a relaxed contentment.

“I was thinking something classic,” you suggested, snuggling into his side. “Maybe a bit of Casablanca?”

“Casablanca, it is,” Spencer agreed, reaching for the remote with a smile.

As the movie played, you found yourself not only immersed in the storyline but also in the warmth of Spencer’s presence beside you. The shared laughter, the gentle teasing, the comfortable silence—it all felt like home.

—

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up, you find yourself nestled in the bed, no longer on the couch. The room is softly lit with the early morning sun filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. Spencer is still sound asleep next to you, his arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace. His breathing is steady and calm, and you watch him for a moment, feeling a rush of affection for this man who has been so patient and kind through everything.

Wanting to do something kind for him, you slowly and carefully extricate yourself from his embrace, trying not to wake him. You slip out of bed, pulling on his robe as you head to the kitchen to make some coffee, a small gesture of appreciation for the many times he’s been there for you.

As you move about the kitchen, the familiar routine of making coffee brings a sense of comfort. You smile to yourself as you measure out the coffee grounds and water, the rich aroma filling the air. It feels good to be doing something for him, even if it’s just a small gesture.

When Spencer finally wakes up, the smell of freshly brewed coffee lures him from the cocoon of blankets. In his sleep-delirious haze, he doesn’t realize anything has changed, and he instinctively walks into the kitchen, still half-asleep, and wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Morning, Spence,” you say softly, feeling the warmth of his embrace as you continue to stir the coffee.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” he mumbles into your hair, his voice thick with sleep.

“I made your coffee, just how you like it,” you say with a smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the little surprise you’ve prepared for him.

“Black, seven teaspoons of sugar?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of playful suspicion.

“Precisely,” you reply, leaning back to kiss his head where it’s nestled against your neck. You love the way his hair feels soft and slightly tousled from sleep, the familiarity of the moment wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Spencer hums contentedly, the combination of your affection and the promise of coffee stirring him more fully awake. You hand him a steaming mug, and he takes a grateful sip, savoring the sweet warmth.

“Thought we could call Diana today, check in on her progress,” you suggest casually, remembering the conversations you’ve had about keeping in touch with his mom.

Spencer’s mind is still catching up to the morning, the mention of his mother registering slowly. “Okay, that’s a good id–wait… what?” His eyes widen as he pulls back slightly, looking at you with surprise and hope.

“Diana, babe? Your mom? I haven’t talked to her in a while, and I wanted to see how she was doing,” you say, turning to face him, your own excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

“Y/N, are you messing with me?” Spencer asks, his voice a blend of disbelief and anticipation, as if he’s afraid to hope too much.

“No… Are you okay, Spence?” you ask gently, reaching up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. 

“Spence? My coffee preference? My mom?” Spencer’s eyes search yours, an array of emotions flickering across his face. “What are you not telling me?”

You smile, unable to contain your excitement any longer. “Oh, I woke up this morning with a few memories of our time together.”

Spencer’s eyes widen, his expression shifting from confusion to pure joy. “You remember?” he asks, voice filled with a hopeful wonder that sends a warm thrill through you.

“Bits and pieces,” you admit, nodding as you set your own coffee down on the counter. “It’s like little snapshots coming back, but they’re there. And you were in them.”

His face lights up with a brilliant smile, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and sends warmth flooding through you. “That’s amazing, Y/N,” he says, pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms enveloping you completely.

You melt into his hug, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. It’s a moment of connection and triumph, a small victory in the long journey of reclaiming the life you once shared.

“I’m so happy,” Spencer murmurs, his voice muffled by your hair but no less filled with emotion. “I’ve missed you—every version of you.”

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze with a smile that mirrors his own. “I’ve missed you too, Spence. I can’t wait to see what else comes back.”

Spencer leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. His touch was a gentle reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be, a soothing balm to the uncertainty that had lingered since the accident. The warmth of his lips against your skin sent a wave of comfort through you, a reminder that love was a constant, waiting patiently to be remembered.

“I love you,” Spencer murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with sincerity and a gentle vulnerability. “Can I say that now? Is that okay?”

His eyes searched yours, seeking not just permission but a confirmation that the love you once shared was finding its way back, stronger and more resilient than before.

“Only if it’s okay for me to say I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with the depth of emotion that had grown in your heart. 

The words were a quiet declaration, an acknowledgment of the bond that had endured through the haze of forgotten memories and the challenges of the past. It was a promise of the future you were eager to explore together, a future built on the foundation of love and understanding.

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with a joy that mirrored your own. “Then it’s more than okay,” he said, his voice warm and full of affection.

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the morning, the aroma of coffee mingling with the soft light filtering through the kitchen. It was a simple moment, yet it held the weight of everything you had been through together, a testament to the resilience of love and the power of memory.

“Come here,” Spencer said, pulling you into another embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting reminder of the life you were rediscovering together. In that embrace, you found not just comfort but a sense of belonging that had been waiting for you to come home to.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Say Don't Go

Request: Anonymous asked: “​​I think your writing is one of the best on here for Tyler <3 i’d love to read your take on the reader sticking out a big tornado with Tyler, i guess similar to the rodeo scene in the movie with Kate but i’d like to read your own take on him just comforting the reader and making sure they get through it <3”

Word count: 3.7k 

Warnings: Blood & injury mention, tornado, hurt / comfort

A/N: thank you so so much for the kind words :((( absolutely loving these requests & all of the comments / replies to my recent tyler fics. please keep them coming!!

 “You could’ve stayed home if you didn’t want to come,” you said to Tyler frustratedly. 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to come,” he replied, trailing behind you as you ventured into another store. “I just didn’t realize that picking up a birthday gift was going to entail being at the mall ‘til sun down.”

“I told you I didn’t have anything picked out and that I’d probably have to look around–” you reminded him, stopping in your tracks so that you could turn to face him. 

Tyler put his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’ll shut up.”

As soon as he backed down, your gaze immediately softened. “Well I don’t want you to be miserable,” you said as you crossed your arms. 

The corner of Tyler’s lip tugged upward in a cheeky grin. “Now how could I ever be miserable when I’m spendin’ time with you?” 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept across your face. “Yeah, whatever,” you said with a smirk. “Why don’t you head to the food court? Once I finish up, I’ll come find you.”

He tilted his head to the side, like a puppy looking for permission. “You sure?” 

You nodded, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder. “Yeah, of course. Just, don’t get ice cream without me,” you warned.

Tyler took a step forward so that you were now only inches apart. You felt his hand rest on the small of your back before he pulled you closer and leaned forward. The second that you felt his lips press against yours in a soft, gentle kiss, all of the annoyance and frustration you’d previously felt melted away in the blink of an eye. Even though you and Tyler had been together for nearly two years now, he still had that kind of effect on you. 

When he stepped away, a smile lingered on his lips. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured you. 

You kept your eyes trained on the back of his head as he made his way from the store, because the truth was– even when he pissed you off, you loved him more than you’d ever loved anything. 

Only when he was out of sight did you finally turn and resume your search. As much as you loved spending time with Tyler, you had to admit it was easier to shop around without him constantly moaning and groaning the entire time. 

You settled into the silence, taking your time as you made your way through the store. After inspecting all of the assorted knick knacks and smelling nearly every candle in the place, you finally settled on a necklace for your mom’s upcoming birthday. 

Once you’d paid, you tucked the jewelry box inside your bag and began making your way out of the store, planning to head straight for the food court to find Tyler. 

Except the second you stepped out of the store, you nearly jumped out of your skin at the loud sound of cracking thunder above. It was close– enough so the building trembled. You watched as other shoppers stopped in their tracks too. 

And then, to your absolute dismay, you heard the emergency alert systems on everyone’s phones start going off in unison. 

You pulled yours out of your pocket and read the message flashing across your screen. 

National Weather Service: TORNADO WARNING in this area until 8:30 PM CDT. Take shelter now in a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building. If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris. Check media for more information. 

You swallowed thickly before glancing up from your phone. Gradually, others began doing the same. Then, as soon as everyone had read the warning and realized what was going on, panic ensued. 

People began running in all directions– pushing others aside and rushing towards exits. You tried your best to remain calm, but you couldn’t ignore the fear spreading through you. 

Instantly, your eyes began scanning the crowd as you instinctively began looking for Tyler.  

He’ll come for you, you thought. Tyler will come. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t meet him halfway. You tried to keep close to the wall to prevent being crushed in the crowd– unfortunately for you though, other people had the same idea. As hard as you tried to keep to the side, soon, you were sucked right into the mass of people. The only thing you could do was move with them and try desperately to stay on your feet as everyone pushed and shoved their way around you. 

Eventually, you dared to careen your neck up and scan for him. At first, all you saw was chaos– but people all seemed to be moving in the same direction now. You watched as parents picked up their children and spouses grabbed each other’s hands. Employees ran out of stores and customers dropped bags. 

It took a few minutes, but eventually, you spotted a familiar tuft of sandy brown hair– the only person in eyesight moving against the crowd.

“Tyler!” you screamed. 

He reacted to your voice, his head turning in the direction he thought it was coming from. 

“Tyler!” you yelled again. 

This time, his eyes landed right on yours. 

But before you could even sigh the breath of relief that was sitting in your chest, you felt something, or rather someone jab into your side. The force was enough to make you stumble on your feet and fall to the ground with a thud. People continued rushing by– feet stepping on you, knees colliding into your back. At one point, you tried to place your hand on the floor to give yourself enough leverage to stand up, but as soon as you did, a white converse stomped right on your fingers, causing you to hiss out in pain. 

Panic began creeping up your throat– making it harder to breathe, let alone think of a plan. A dark cloud began clouding your vision, numbing your senses to what was happening around you. Until suddenly, you heard your name being called. The sound broke through the haze. Before you could react, you felt two hands sliding underneath your armpits from behind. And suddenly, you were being hoisted up from the ground. 

“I got you,” Tyler’s voice said in your ear. You didn’t even get a chance to turn and look at him before he was pushing you forward. “We gotta move.” 

Thankfully, his grip under your arms never faltered, otherwise you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to keep up. But eventually, Tyler pushed you towards the outer edge of the busy mall hallway. Once you were no longer in danger of being flattened by the crowd, he spun you around– hands clutching your shoulders tightly while he blocked the remaining traffic from reaching you. 

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. At least you didn’t think you were… But when you glanced down at yourself, you quickly realized why Tyler even asked. Your button down shirt was ripped– presumably from being grabbed, and the tank top beneath it had a few spots of blood splattered across the fabric. You weren’t even sure where it came from. 

“We gotta go,” Tyler said urgently.  

“The shelter–” you began, but Tyler shook his head. 

“Everyone’s heading that way, it’ll be full by now. Plus, we don’t have time– I looked outside and… it’s close.”

“What do we do?” you asked, voice trembling with fear. 

Tyler let his arms fall from your shoulders and instead grabbed onto one of your hands. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before nodding in the opposite direction of where everyone else was running. 

“The stairwell,” he said. 

You nodded shakily. “Okay.”

With that, Tyler was off– weaving his way in and out of the crowd. Luckily, it had thinned out dramatically– most people heading towards the parking lot or the storm shelter on the other side of the mall. Once you broke away from the thickest part of the crowd, Tyler’s grip loosened slightly on your hand. 

“C’mon,” he urged, leading you around the corner. At the very end of the hallway was the door that led to the stairwell. 

But you only made it a few feet down the hallway before you felt the floor shake beneath your feet. Only moments after, there was a loud bang just as a chunk of the roof was being ripped off the building. 

“Tyler–” you yelled. 

“Keep going,” he pleaded. 

With part of the roof separated, you could hear the winds whipping outside more clearly. The sound was deafening, like a freight train barrelling right for you. 

But even above the raging winds– you heard the cries of someone nearby. You looked to your left to see a mother and her child huddled underneath a display booth. 

“Tyler,” you said again, tugging on his arm. 

He slowed down, turning towards where your eyes were fixated. He hesitated, clearly conflicted on what to do. 

“We have to help them,” you said. 

His eyes scanned yours desperately before he nodded. “Wait here,” he said, releasing your hand. 

You watched as Tyler crossed the hall– trying to avoid the debris now falling from the roof. He called something out to the woman, but you couldn’t hear above the sound of the wind. It was enough to catch her attention though, because soon she was passing her son to Tyler. The poor boy couldn’t have been older than five or six. Tyler pulled him to his side with ease before reaching his other arm out and helping the mother up from underneath the table. 

Once she was on her feet, Tyler passed her back her son and pointed towards where you stood against the wall. She tucked her son’s head against her chest and began hurrying forward– Tyler at her heels as they fought against the increasing winds. 

“Take my hand,” you yelled. With the arm she wasn’t using to support her son, she reached for you. 

You grasped onto her and helped pull her against the wall. 

“Go to the stairwell,” you explained. “Get underneath them, as low as you can.”

She nodded, unshed tears glistening in her eyes before she began heading down the hall. 

Just then, you heard a deafening crack. You turned to see another piece of the roof being pulled off– causing large chunks of debris to begin falling. 

“Get down!” you heard Tyler holler. Using your arm, you shielded your head the best you could and shrank to the floor as the largest piece fell. A cloud of dust enveloped you as soon as it landed and you felt small pieces of debris bouncing against your skin– After a brief moment, you dared to look up. 

But Tyler was no longer standing in front of you. 

“Tyler!” you screamed. Without thinking, you moved forward, trying your best to stay low. But despite your best efforts, you were still caught off guard by the piece of metal that blew past your head, slicing open your skin– “Fuck!” you yelled, grabbing at your temple. When you pulled your hand away, your fingers were coated in a thick, crimson liquid. 

“Tyler!” you yelled again, voice growing increasingly frantic. 

“I’m here–” you heard him yell back, causing your shoulders to deflate slightly. As you crawled around the largest pile of debris, you saw him on the ground, moving a chunk of roofing off his foot. His eyes met yours, a flash of concern crossing his face when he saw your head. “You gotta get to the stairs–”

“No, no, no. Not without you,” you shook your head, continuing to move towards him as you felt the blood trickle down the side of your face. 

“The storm’s here– you gotta go. You gotta take cover,” he pleaded. 

“I’m not leaving you–” you cried, unable to control the tears burning behind your eyes. As they fell down your cheek, they mixed with the blood from your temple. Once you were crouched beside him, you used what little strength you had left to Tyler’s hand and pull him from the small pile of rubble. 

When you looked at the short distance between yourselves and the staircase door– you were surprised to see the woman, propping it open with her body and waving towards the two of you to hurry up. 

“Move–” Tyler encouraged, pushing you against the wind. “Go, go, go–”

You army-crawled forward, wincing as more debris nicked your skin. But finally– you reached the door. Tyler moved his hand to your waist and guided you towards the staircase. 

The woman reached for her son, who was crouched low in the corner. Meanwhile, Tyler moved you towards one of the railings. 

“Hold on to this–” he instructed. You wound your arms around the fixture.

"Don't go–" you begged.

But immediately after, you felt the warmth from his body wrap around you. You looked up and saw Tyler shielding your body with his own– his hands gripping the part of the railing just above yours.

“I got you,” he promised. “We’re gonna be okay, I got you,” he repeated. But soon his voice was swept away by the sound of the storm. 

The winds grew even louder as the tornado moved closer– the noise of various chunks of debris slamming into the ground around you made you shake. You squeezed your eyes shut– hoping and praying to whatever God might be out there that Tyler was right and you’d both be okay…

You weren’t sure how long the storm raged on. It felt like hours, although you knew that couldn't be right. Eventually though, the winds died down. In their absence, you could hear the sound of the woman comforting her son, along with Tyler’s labored breathing above you. 

With a shaky hand, you reached behind you– like you didn’t quite trust that he was still there. You felt the fabric of his jeans beneath your palm and sighed out the choppy breath that had been lodged in your throat. 

“Tyler,” you heaved pathetically, voice cracking. 

“I’m here,” he gasped, voice equally shaky as he gasped for air. “I got you.”

Nodding, you brushed your hair from your sweaty face and felt Tyler shift. Following his lead, you turned towards him. As soon as your eyes landed on him– hunched over and breathing like he’d just run five miles, you let out a choked sob. 

“Are you okay?” he panted.

“Tyler–” was all you could manage to blurt out. 

A calloused hand cupped your face– thumb trailing along your hairline. You winced when his thumb passed over a sensitive spot on your head from where you’d been hit earlier. “You’re okay,” he soothed. “We’ll get it checked out.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as you desperately craved comfort from him. Seemingly picking up on your need, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his chest. “We’re okay,” he repeated, hand moving to cup the back of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut– inhaling the scent of his T-shirt. Even though he was coated in sweat and dust, he still smelled so comforting and familiar. 

He planted a kiss on top of your head before panting, “We gotta get out of here.”

You nodded, and forced yourself to pull away from him. Tyler helped you to your feet, eyes studying to make sure you were steady before he turned towards the woman. 

“You guys okay?” he asked. 

She nodded, clutching tightly to her son, who was still in her arms. 

“Alright, c’mon– be careful where you step,” he said, helping them out from the staircase. Tyler led them past you and into the hall before coming back for you. 

You desperately tried to steady your shaking legs. You were wobbly on your feet, but with Tyler’s help, you managed to maneuver your way out from underneath the staircase. 

As soon as you were back in the hall, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. The entire mall was destroyed– the roof had caved in, creating mounds of rubble everywhere you looked. There was dust all over– and no one else in sight. 

“Tyler–” you croaked again. His name seemed to be the only words you were able to form in your shock. 

“C’mon,” he urged gently, pulling you along. 

You let him lead the way, eyes scanning the debris hopelessly. You stopped in your tracks the moment you saw the first body– it was a woman, probably in her late twenties, just like you. She had a mound of tile stacked on top of her and a trail of blood soaking through her yellow sweater. Her eyes were still open– like they were frozen in fear. 

“Don’t look,” Tyler’s voice cut through the fog. 

He put his body between you and her and placed his hands on both sides of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his. 

“Sh– she’s dead,” you trembled. 

Tyler nodded solemnly. “I know,” he nodded. “Don’t look, okay? Just keep your eyes on me.”

Tyler wound his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. With his fingers digging into the fleshy part of your hip, he led you forward, bearing the majority of your weight. Eventually, he managed to lead you all out of the rubble of the mall. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Tyler turned and asked the woman again. She nodded before thanking him and heading off in the direction of an ambulance. 

Tyler seemed to have something similar in mind. 

“I want to go home,” you insisted. 

But Tyler shook his head. “You need to get your head checked out first.”

“Tyler, please–” you whimpered. 

He glanced down at you– seemingly noticing the way your voice cracked. His face softened the moment he saw the tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“Hey–” he said gently. “Baby, you’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I just want to go home,” you repeated. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he soothed. “But your head– I really want them to take a look. Then we can go home.” 

You sunk your teeth into your lower lip. After a moment, you nodded defeatedly and let Tyler lead you the rest of the way to one of the many ambulances parked near what was left of the mall. 

The paramedic who got to you first was a middle aged man with a kind smile. He told you how brave you were as he shined a flashlight in your eyes, checking your pupils. 

When he moved to the wound on your temple, now coating your entire hairline in gooey blood, you grimaced. 

“This is gonna need a few stitches,” he said after inspecting it. 

Tyler sat beside you and let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you needed while the paramedic stitched you up. He applied a local anesthetic but you felt every second of the needle threading through your skin. 

You held onto Tyler like your life depended on it, trying to allow his words of affirmation and comfort to consume you. 

“Almost done,” the paramedic said before clipping the remainder of the thread. He placed a clean bandage on the side of your head and offered you a soft smile. “You did great,” he told you. 

Although you were feeling detached from just about everything right now, you nodded in response before letting Tyler pull you to your feet. 

“Think you can walk?” he asked. 

You nodded again, although you didn’t entirely hear him. 

“The parking garage collapsed– but Boone’s on his way. He’s gonna give us a ride home.”

“Okay,” you mumbled softly, letting yourself melt into Tyler’s side again. 

The road where you met Boone was a short walk, and you were thankfully starting to get feeling back in your legs. But even still, you let Tyler support the majority of your weight as he guided you towards Boone’s familiar, beat up truck. Tyler held open the door and helped you climb inside.

“Christ–” Boone said, turning in the driver’s seat to get a good look at you. 

“She’s okay,” Tyler answered, sliding into the backseat beside you. Although he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Boone. 

“How the hell did you guys make it through that?” Boone asked as he surveyed the destruction around you. You forced yourself not to look. Instead, you rested your head against Tyler’s shoulder. “The blockade guy told me the entire storm shelter collapsed. I guess too many people crammed inside, so they couldn’t shut the door good.”

You swallowed thickly. If you hadn’t found Tyler, the storm shelter was going to be your plan B– 

“We hid under the staircase,” he said as Boone began down the road. “Had Dexter been tracking anythin’ out this way?” 

The two proceeded to talk about the sudden impact of the storm and whatever else tornado chasers cared about. Meanwhile, Tyler’s thumb trailed up and down your bare arm soothingly, allowing you to tune it all out. 

When Boone pulled down your dirt driveway and put his car in park fifteen minutes later, he turned to face you. “I’m real glad you’re okay.”

You offered him a weak smile. “Me too.”

After thanking his friend, Tyler helped you out of the car and towards the house, his hand never leaving your waist until you were inside. 

“Couch or bed?” he asked, shutting the front door behind him. 

“Couch,” you murmured. The bed meant stairs, which you weren’t sure you were ready for quite yet. 

“You got it,” he said. 

Gently, Tyler helped lower you to the couch, where you curled up against the corduroy fabric and sighed. 

But your eyes snapped open quickly as soon as you realized that Tyler wasn’t laying down with you. 

“Where are you going?” you asked, trying (and failing) to mask the panic in your voice. You shifted and sat up, a sudden wave of pain hit your head, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. You tried your best to mask it and force your eyes back open. It felt pathetic, but you didn’t really want Tyler out of your sight right now. 

He turned around instantly. “I was just gonna get you some water and an ice pack, baby. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you said uneasily. Your eyes remained trained on him the entire time he maneuvered around the kitchen. You could tell he noticed, too. His eyes kept flickering up to check on you. 

He was back in less than a minute– but still you sighed a breath of relief. He set the glass of water down on the side table before taking a seat on the other end of the couch. 

He handed you the ice pack and watched sadly as you placed it on your temple with a wince. 

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Will you– will you lay down with me?” you asked him. 

Tyler nodded. “Of course, baby.” He opened his arms, making a spot for you to lay between his legs. With your back resting against his chest, Tyler wound one arm around your middle and used the other to hold the ice pack against your head for you. 

Using what little strength you had, you gripped his forearm. “Just... please don’t go,” you begged. 

Tyler pressed his lips on the top of your head. “I won’t– I’m right here,” he assured you. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief and laid your head back against his chest, finally feeling content.  

After a while, you were finally able to drift off in his embrace. Your body ached and your head throbbed, but everything felt more bearable when you were in Tyler’s arms.