#;COFFEE BREATH☕️

[takiberry]

𐙚ᝰ.ᐟ Coffee Breath : WY

౨ৎ˚⟡.•☕️sick ‘n fuckin TWISTED

PREV : MASTERLIST : NEXT

౨ৎ ☕️ : written down below!

nicholas set his phone down as he rubbed his face with frustration, euijoo sitting down next to him with a cup of strawberry milk he had just made for the black haired male. “you know, i feel like she’s only doing this just to get a reaction out of you.” euijoo said as he pat his bestfriend’s back gently, yuma looking up from his phone as he listened in on the conversation before popping into it himself. “yeah! i think cussing her out would do the trick , quite honestly.” “okay no, we’re not going to give her the satisfaction of getting cussed out by nicholas.” yudai added as he washed up the used dishes to make beverages, fuma nodding in agreement as well while wiping the counter. “what am i supposed to do, she’s gonna find a way to contact me no matter what, she already comes here to torment us even more.” nicholas said with slight irritation in his voice, yuma made a thinking face as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. “i had an idea, but not sure how you’d feel on it.” he said as he looked at nicholas again, setting his phone down on the table, nicholas fixed his glasses as he waited for the younger to spit it out, yuma sighed before continuing. “why don’t you tell her you have a girlfriend? and by girlfriend, i mean y/n , since she’s basically been making you all gushy recently.” he said before taking bite out of a riceball before receiving a smack to his head from yudai who had just made them for jo. “do you think she’s gonna believe that?” nicholas said before looking at his screen to see if you messaged him to let him know you and your friends have arrived, unbeknownst to him, you and your friends were dealing with a situation at the flower shop. “i’m sure she will, she’s stupid as fuck anyway, i mean look, she thought euijoo wasn’t gonna tell you what happened- OW!” yuma got interrupted yet again as he earned a smack from euijoo, who didn’t wanna be reminded of the god awful past that nearly tore their friendship apart, euijoo rubbed nicholas’ back as he noticed the change in his demeanor from looking at his phone. “are you sure that’s the only thing bothering you? you keep looking at your phone.” euijoo said as he scooted over for both yudai and fuma to join them at the table.

“y/n just hasn’t messaged me that she’s on the way here or that she’s even here at all, i’m just worried.” nicholas said yet again whilst glancing at his phone for god knows how long, yudai thought about something before speaking, glancing at euijoo. “why don’t we, go visit her instead? i’m sure it’d be much more appreciated, no?” he said as he sipped his coffee, fuma nodding in agreement with yuma and euijoo. “yeah, we can close up for the day and go hang out at their workplace, i’ve heard from taki that the shop is beautiful.” euijoo said as he took out the keys to lock up the doors before looking at his bestfriend, who seemed deep in thought before nodding back, a small smile coming onto his face. “alright, let’s do it.” nicholas got up and fixed his jacket before grabbing his necessities like everyone else before walking out the door with them, euijoo locking up the shop after putting up the closed sign. “are we ready?” euijoo asked as he looked at his friends, who nodded before heading over to the car. “can i drive?” yuma blurted out as he flailed his arms like a maniac in the parking lot.

“yeah.. no.” yudai said as he took the car keys from euijoo’s hand, unlocking the doors, yuma pouted and huffed before getting in the backseat with nicholas and euijoo. “this is sick and fuckin’ TWISTEDDD” yuma yelled out like a maniac before the car started and drove off to the flower shop.

to be continued.

📝 ╰┈➤ tini notiez :

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 🐾 taglist ; @aceheexx @hyvelxve @soobiverse @luvnicho @i4kt @luvitria @jjungwonss @wonkisbbg @flwoie @sionshiii @yyawnjun @olivehues @amesification @heart4hees @maoyueze @ffixtionista @yuma-is-mine

[dedi-ashour]

I love the beauty that nature brings us. ☘️🥰

[theonlyonesora]

Paddock Whispers

Max Verstappen x Reader

It had started with a single photo.

Blurry, yes—but undeniably you. Wrapped in Max’s oversized hoodie, hair up, sleepy-eyed and barefoot in the background of a now-deleted Instagram story from one of Red Bull’s junior mechanics. You’d been handing Max a mug of coffee, his hand low on your back, and the caption had read:

“GOAT treatment only 😤☕️”

Naturally, the internet had imploded.

By the time the next Grand Prix weekend rolled around, speculation was wildfire, crackling through social media, F1 TikTok, and every gossip account from Paris to Singapore.

Now, you stood just inside the paddock at Suzuka, badge lanyard swinging gently against your chest, sun warming your shoulders, and a camera lens or two—hundred—pointed directly at you.

“I told you this would happen,” you muttered under your breath.

Max, walking beside you in his dark Red Bull kit, tossed you a side-smirk, annoyingly unbothered. “You look too good. That’s your fault.”

“You look good. I’m just… present.”

He stopped, took a step back, and looked at you in that way that made your knees soften. “You think that’s just presence?” he murmured, tipping his sunglasses down to scan you properly. “You’re the entire press conference right now.”

You nudged him with your elbow, cheeks warm. “They’re all staring.”

“So let them stare,” he said simply, and then—without hesitation—slipped his hand into yours.

Not on accident. Not for show. Just because he wanted to.

But the cameras clicked faster.

From the other side of the paddock, you spotted Charles and Pierre watching with smirks. Pierre leaned into Charles and said something, earning a laugh and a pointed look in your direction.

“Oh no,” you groaned.

Max followed your line of sight. “Ignore them.”

“I can feel Lando’s grin from here.”

“He’s jealous,” Max replied dryly. “Because you’re mine.”

You arched a brow. “Oh, I’m yours now?”

He stepped in close, leaning down just enough so his breath kissed the shell of your ear. “You’ve always been mine. Now the rest of the grid knows.”

Before you could fire back with something sarcastic—or worse, sincere—he pulled away like nothing had happened, squeezing your hand as he walked toward the Red Bull garage.

"You're blushing," he added over his shoulder.

"You're annoying," you muttered back—but you were smiling.

And yes, when Lando walked past a few minutes later and said “You really let Verstappen pull you, huh?” with a crooked grin, Max very calmly replied, “She wasn’t pulled. She jumped.”

Twitter/X, five minutes later:

@F1GirlsUnited: the way max said “she’s mine” and then walked off holding her hand like that… help I’m unwell @charlesbabydoll: y/n is literally one of us and she bagged max. Queen behavior. @RedBullTea: Charles and Pierre’s faces watching it happen was HILARIOUS, they were so ready to gossip 😭 @simps4max: if she ever lets go of that man I’m RIGHT HERE READY

.

The Tokyo skyline shimmered through the tall glass windows of Max’s hotel suite, city lights flickering like stardust scattered across the night. You sat curled up on the plush hotel bed in one of Max’s old race t-shirts, sleeves too big, hem brushing your thighs, watching him pace shirtless across the room with his phone to his ear.

He was still flushed from qualifying—P1, but barely. That Verstappen fire lingered under his skin, thrumming beneath the muscles in his back as he muttered into Dutch with his race engineer. You watched the little droplets of water trail down his spine from the shower, curling into the dip above his towel-covered hips.

“Are you even listening?” you asked softly.

Max turned, eyes sweeping over you with a lazy grin. “No, not really.”

He ended the call mid-sentence, tossed his phone onto the nearby table, and stalked over to the bed with that quiet confidence that always made your pulse stutter. He leaned over you on his hands, hair still damp, face so close your noses almost touched.

“You look good in my shirt.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

He hummed low in his throat and leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth first, then your jaw, then your collarbone—slow, languid, like he had all the time in the world.

Your hands threaded into his wet curls. “Still wound up from quali?”

“Hmm,” he nodded, lips grazing your throat. “Can’t sleep.”

“Need help with that?”

He laughed, a breathy sound against your skin. “Only if you’re offering.”

Your giggle was soft and sinful all at once. “I am wearing your favorite shirt.”

“And nothing else?”

You tugged him down fully on top of you. “Guess you’ll have to check.”

Ten minutes later…

Well. Maybe twenty.

You were curled into his chest now, both of you still catching your breath, a sheet tangled around your waists and the lights of Tokyo spilling across your bare legs. Max reached blindly for his phone, eyes still half-lidded.

“Don’t post anything,” you warned.

“I’m not,” he smirked. “Just checking who out-qualified me.”

But the second his screen lit up, you gasped.

“Max—what is that?”

He squinted. “What?”

The Instagram app was open. On his story. A still photo—taken God knows when—of you straddling his lap on the hotel bed, laughing, both of you flushed and rumpled and way too obviously post-sin. He must’ve tapped post by accident.

“Oh my God—delete it!”

“I’m trying!” he fumbled with the screen, but the damage was done.

Five minutes later, the internet:

@F1FanaticNews: MAX VERSTAPPEN ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE MOST CHAOTIC COUPLE PHOTO WE’VE EVER SEEN. @horny4f1: not Max posting a post-sex pic like he’s in love. I’m gonna cry @charlesgirlie: THE WAY SHE’S LAUGHING ON TOP OF HIM 😭😭😭 THEY���RE IN LOVE @landoenthusiast: who knew Max had rizz @yngridverstappen: I just know Helmut Marko is crying in a corner rn

Max tossed the phone aside with a sheepish grin. “Oops?”

You were burying your face in a pillow. “We’re trending, aren’t we?”

“Probably.” He leaned down, brushed a kiss against your temple. “Worth it.”

You peeked up at him, still breathless and blushing. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re still in my shirt.” His smile softened. “Which means you’re mine.”

You groaned and pulled him back down with a laugh. “Then take responsibility for your public horniness, Verstappen.”

“Oh, I will,” he whispered into your neck. “All night.”

.

The Suzuka sun blazed above the track, golden and unforgiving. The crowd was a sea of red and orange, thunderous and chanting, and Max—Max stood at the center of it, champagne-soaked and grinning like he owned the world.

He did, in that moment.

And you were there, just past the barrier, watching him.

The moment his eyes found yours, there was no delay. No “let me thank the team first,” no sponsor-polite smile. He jumped off the small step of the podium like he had nothing but tunnel vision and walked—no, strode—toward you with his fireproofs unzipped and hanging off his waist, his torso still gleaming under the sun.

He grabbed you by the waist without a word and pulled you into him, kissing you like there weren’t thousands of people watching, like the cameras weren’t already zoomed in, like the world hadn’t been speculating for weeks.

Your fingers slid into his damp hair. His hands clutched your hips. And he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this exact moment—lips hungry, tongue teasing, breath caught between laughter and something much darker.

“Max—” you breathed when he pulled away just slightly.

He only smirked. “That should make tomorrow’s headlines.”

Press Conference – Thirty Minutes Later

He sat front and center, fresh shirt, hair slightly damp, watch glittering under the lights. Charles and Lewis flanked him, answering their questions politely.

And then it came.

A reporter, too smug for his own good, leaned forward with a little smirk. “Max, your driving was on point as always today, but fans seem very curious about that kiss after the podium. Any comment on the, uh… surprise guest in your personal life?”

Max didn’t miss a beat.

He leaned into the mic, voice low and amused. “You mean my girlfriend?”

The room went silent, pens stalling mid-scribble.

He shrugged casually. “She’s amazing. Beautiful. Smarter than all of you. And she’s the reason I slept more than four hours this weekend.”

Charles choked on his water.

Lewis burst out laughing.

The room erupted.

And Max just leaned back with a satisfied smile, looking directly at the camera—your camera, the one you were watching from backstage.

.

“Smarter than all of you?” you teased, straddling his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, still warm from the shower.

Max smirked, hands on your hips. “They needed to know.”

“You mean they needed to know I keep you rested?”

His lips brushed your neck, soft and slow. “Among other things.”

You giggled as he pressed you down against the mattress, his voice dropping to a whisper near your ear.

“I win races, but you make the victory feel real.”

The night unfolded like silk—hot skin against cooler sheets, whispered laughter, a kiss for every lap he’d driven like the devil himself was chasing him.

And this time, no phones. No posts.

Just you. Just him. Just the sound of breathless hearts and the weight of all the things he couldn’t say in front of cameras.

Only for you.

[fangirl-dot-com]

🕸 With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

Driver: Oscar Piastri Genre: SMAU/Fluff Occupation: Actor

☆ TAG LIST IS CLOSED ☆

oscarpiastri2013 has posted

liked by marvel, spider_osc, flickthewrist, lewishamilton, and 930,385 others

oscarpiastri2013 just hanging around set 🤟😁

see all comments

user1 oh my gosh he's such a loser....perfect for peter parker

user13 UHHGGG I WANT TO SEE THE SUIT - ALL WE'VE SEEN IS THE OLD ONE FROM CIVIL WAR 👹

flickthewrist still waiting for him to meet y/n l/n 🥱

user40 who's y/n and why is she important?

flickthewrist she's a formula 1 rookie driving for mclaren (which happens to be Oscar's favorite team) 🤭

user40 hmmmm might have to look into it!

robertdowneyjr you're crushing it kid! 💪

oscarpiastri2013 learned from the best 🥳

user2 YOUR HONOR I LOVE HIM ALREADY

lewishamilton my nephews are already waiting to see the movie

user77 WHAT THE HELL IS A POLAR BEAR DOING IN ARLINGTON TEXAS????

landonorris oohhhh ok I see the appeal y/n81

y/n81 YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO TAG ME WHAT THE HECK DUDE I HATE YOU

maxverstappen1 we were tired of hearing about him from you

y/n81 WHY ARE YOU ALSO HERE??? GO AWAY??? I KNOW WHERE YOU HIDE YOU SNACKS 😀

user33 my worlds are colliding and I'm not ready for it 🧍‍♀️

y/n81 has posted

liked by charles_leclerc, mishi81, mclarenf1, robertdowneyjr, and 1,209,856 others

y/n81 YES TEAM, P-WAAANNN BABY - THIS IS EVERYTHING I'VE BEEN DREAMING OF AND YOU'VE MADE IT POSSIBLE! I'M NOW ADDICTED TO THE TOP STEP 🧡

SUCK IT LANDO 🫵😌

see all comments

user3 I'm definitely NAWT crying like I actually know her in person but I'm so proud!

user91 PAPAYA 1-2 FINISH OH I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS!! 🙏

landonorris ...suck it....lando?? 👁👄👁

y/n81 YES SUCK IT

landonorris charles_leclerc pls come get your gremlin - I don't want her as a teammate anymore 🧍‍♀️

charles_leclerc I fear she became your problem back in march, I'm keeping my peace

landonorris is that code word for sucking max's d-

y/n81 HEY NOW LET'S NOT IN MY WINNING POST

charles_leclerc norris you better watch your back next race 😀

landonorris I feel threatened and I don't like it

user45 so underserved - if you can't win without your teammate being told to swap positions then you don't deserve it

user82 kindly shut up 😚

oscarpiastri2013 👏 amazing race!

y/n81 THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU (I'm totally normal about this)

maxverstappen1 did she just scream from her motor home??

landonorris yep. get the ear plugs ready.

user57 this is just the beginning of l/n domination - it could bore the fans

oscarpiastri2013 has posted

liked by y/n81, dior, mclaren, maxverstappen1, and 2,049,285 others

oscarpiastri2013 I am so very thankful to have been invited to the McLaren garage to witness another spectacular win from Y/n!

(also thank you to the nice worker who lent me a team polo after spilling coffee down my shirt 😁)

see all comments

user47 SOMEONE PINCH ME I'M DREAMING

user91 is the movie done filming?? he seems like he's had a lot of time on his hands??

flickthewrist filming ends in a couple of months and then there will be the premier!

user91 thank you!

y/n81 I'm beginning to think you might be lucky

landonorris you seem quite tame?

maxverstappen1 oh she's not. she's about to hyperventilate and Charles is freaking out

charles_leclerc SOMEONE TELL HER TO BREATHE?? HER FACE IS THE SAME COLOR AS THE SPIDER-MAN SUIT!!!!!

oscarpiastri2013 I will have to 🕸stick🕸 around then!

y/n81 AHAHAHAHA STICK THAT'S SO FUNNY YOU'RE SO COOL

charles_leclerc yeah she just fell out of her chair 🧍‍♀️

chrisevans kid you need to get back to set

robertdowneyjr evans here decided to set fire to the microwave

oscarpiastri2013 fine 🙄

user22 is anyone else ever confused as to WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON IN THE COMMENTS??

lewishamilton I've just decided to roll with it ☕️

user72 finally, a race that showed off y/n's talents! no team orders this time!!

maxverstappen1 has posted

liked by redbullracing, y/nl/n_updates, landoscaring, and 1,204,402 others

maxverstappen1 didn't know air-max was part-time baby sitting that includes nap time

see all comments

user38 this is actually hilarious

user4 this just shows that lando can indeed fall asleep anywhere :D

user88 ARE WE JUST GOING TO IGNORE THAT Y/N IS LITERALLY SLEEPING ON SOMEONE??

charles_leclerc they're going to be so pissed when they wake up

maxverstappen1 they sleep on my plane, I get black mail 😈

danielricciardo I fear for my life

maxverstappen1 you should ☺️

robertdowneyjr pls bring the kid back in one piece?? Jon will kill me if he's not

maxverstappen1 👍

user79 DOES THIS MEAN OSCAR IS ON AIRMAX?? IS HE SLEEPING?? IS HE THE ONE BENEATH Y/N?? ANSWERS PEOPLE I NEED ANSWERS

mclaren just a pair of sleepy teammates 🧡

maxverstappen1 the bill is $1,203,206 for daycare

mclaren I'm just the admin 🧍‍♀️

user37 ok but Oscar and y/n together would be so cute!!

f1wags has posted

liked by y/nl/n_updates, pia81, maxverstappen1, and 4,209 others

f1wags so after some recent (very recent) activity between y/n and Oscar, I felt like he needed a little introduction IF he's going to be the newest wag to the paddock!

oscar jack piastri is an australian actor now most known for his role as Peter Parker in the MCU. he made his debut two years ago in Captain America Civil War and now fans are debating if he's the best spiderman yet! the perfect mix of boy-next-door Peter with a sarcastic side behind the iconic mask! Spiderman Homecoming is set to release in theaters January 5, 2025 (two years after the announcement of the movie).

His other roles include The Impossible, In the Heart of the Sea, and The Lost City of Z.

His interests outside of Formula 1 include cricket and chess.

Although there hasn't been an official announcement from either Y/n or Oscar, their friendship so far has been fun to see. Oscar would be Y/n's first boyfriend (as she has previously stated that she has had no time to date due to trying to work toward a full-time Formula 1 seat).

see all comments

f1gossipgirl I am INVETSTED IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP

user2 what is max doing in the likes???

maxverstappen1 shhhhh I'm on a secret mission 🕵️

charles_leclerc it's not a very good secret mission SINCE YOU COMMENTED ABOUT IT

landonorris someone free me from these two I BEG

user84 y/n has also been a fan of Oscar's since The Impossible :)

user8 awwww first boyfriend 🥹 Oscar better not hurt her in anyway or there will be blood

oscarpiastri2013 .....dully noted 🧍‍♀️

user92 I need y/n to be invited to the premier!!!

y/n81 has posted

liked by dior, marvel, mclaren, pia81, and 3,048,957 others

y/n81 my spider-boy 🕷❤️

see all comments

user30 I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT AHAHAHAHA

user92 I'm glad they just decided to hard-launch after max soft-launched for them

charles_leclerc YES FERRARI RED 👏 SO PROUD

landonorris this is betrayal at it's finest - you WILL be hearing from my lawyers

y/n81 I'm surprised you know what that word is

landonorris ya know what? I'm glad that osco has taken you off my hands

user94 LANDO ALREADY HAS A NICKNAME FOR OSCAR I'M DYING

user84 y/n is SLAYING IN THE SPIDER-MAN RED

charles_leclerc *ferrari red 😌

oscarpiastri2013 my spider-girl 🥺

y/n81 I'm glad you didn't pass out while we tried to do the kiss

oscarpiastri2013 it's not like I hang upside down for a living or anything :)

maxverstappen1 you're welcome for that picture by the way. I still want compensation 🙄

oscarpiastri2013 you can be in the next film?

maxverstappen1 done.

charles_leclerc I WANNA BE IN THE NEXT FILM?? LOOK AT THIS FACE - IT DESERVES TO BE ON THE BIG SCREEN - MAX TELL THEM

landonorris please, for everything that is good and holy on this planet, GO AWAY

user33 I'm still confused as to what is GOING ON

lewishamilton just sit back and sip

user81 THEY DID THE KISS

TAG LIST: @scuderiadevils @marauderssworld @mehrmonga @glitterquadricorn @sinofwriting @splaterparty0-0 @ayohockeycheck @evalynkillgrave @bookishnerd1132 @vellicora @misty-inferno @minkyungseokie @khaylin27 @how-what-why-huh @theblueblub @zacian117 @fly-me-away @blueblinkx-blog @ilove-tswizzle @sinnerpalace @thatgirlmj @spilled-coffee-cup @iangelofmusic @suns3treading @roszszs @2pagenumb @ietss @morgan-getty @younxii @phantomxoxo @pastryboyyy @lolzzzzzzzzz @halleest @ggaslyp1 @skepvids @mil0sworld @u5dthsduttd @silkenthusiasts @coldcola @annispamz @fionaschicken @littlegrapejuice @boiohboii @crashingwavesofeuphoria @lancestrollsgf @tribbisweetdear @graciewrote @lozzamez3 @residentdegenerate @e-nonsense

[neeeooon]

my life will be yours if you make a fic about sae with a foreign reader, they met at some random cafe where he was because he wanted some peace and quiet, and he just so happened to see reader, who’s a bit clumsy and accidentally spilled their coffee on him, and so they offered to clean it for him (or buy him the same one.) somehow, he seems so enchanted by reader that he just wordlessly nods, even though he could buy like 10 copies of the same (expensive) sweater he was wearing right now, and he just kind of follows reader around like a lost puppy, and reader finds it super adorable!! he just buys whatever the reader wants, even if they just look at it for one split second, and he’s already checking it out and swiping his card :)) aaaarghfhf i love sae he’s such a cutie +_+

accidental love at first sight

itoshi sae x foreigner!reader. fluff fluff fluff

the meeting went to shit quicker than expected, and after hearing two dozen grown men shouting over each other for several minutes, sae was in desperate need of some peace and quiet.

with the strap of his shoulder bag tight in a fist, sae stepped into the first empty cafe he saw. he’d been back in japan for less than two days and was already sick of it. he wanted nothing more than to hop on a plane to anywhere but there.

he rolled the sleeves of his loewe knit cardigan up to his elbows as he ordered. personally, he thought the sweater was hideous. it’d been a gift from his company back in spain, and his manager insisted on having him wear it to the meeting as a sign of wealth and respect.

sae took his number from the cashier and found one of the empty tables to set his things at. a sigh naturally left his lips as he fell into the booth, not caring if the wood did nothing to cushion his landing. he was exhausted, mentally and physically, and wanted nothing more than to drink his coffee and return to his hotel.

it didn't take nearly as long as it did in spain for him to receive his drink, and sae stood to grab a napkin.

peace and quiet. what a joke.

not two seconds after he stood, a body slammed directly into him, knocking the coffee out of his hand and sending the hot liquid down the front of his cream sweater. sae kept his face neutrally blank, but the breath he let out trembled around the edges.

"oh no, i'm so sorry!" a voice shouted in panicked, broken japanese. when sae opened his eyes, he knew right away that you were visiting from out of town, like him.

your face was pale as you wiped napkins over his chest, pushing the dark coffee further into the expensive fabric. your rambling continued in a language sae didn't speak, and before you could embarrass either of them any further, he clasped a hand over your wrist to bring your nervous scrubbing to a stop.

"i'm clumsy," you scolded yourself, fists balling the napkins now soaked through with coffee. "i will buy you a new drink." you weren't asking, and sae didn't know if you were being assertive or if it was the slight language barrier. no matter the reasoning, he found himself nodding along wordlessly.

"i will buy your sweater, too," you offered while approaching the cashier, but when sae told you the price, you flashed a large, nervous grin. "i will clean your sweater. sorry, i said buy by mistake."

sae didn't know what it was about you, but your words brought a small smile to his lips. he couldn't help but be utter enchated by you as you ordered and paid for his replacement drink before informally asking (more like demanding) for his number. "for the, uh, sweater!"

"we can go now," sae surprised himself by offering, but the way your face brightened made him glad he suggested it. "alright! i have no plans. let's go!"

☆ ☕️

sae hardly remembered offering you his number, but he couldn't forget the feel of your fingers against his palm as you plucked the scrap of paper from his hand.

that was two weeks ago. sae often lost interest in things in two minutes. however, two whole weeks later, and he still jumped anytime his phone made a noise, chest aching at the thought that it could be you. most of the time it was, as you loved texting him about your day and wishing him luck at work.

you: Are you busy today? I would love to see you before my flight home!

sae: not busy. i'll pick you up and we can go shopping

you: Alright! I will be ready to leave in twenty minutes 😄

he couldn’t say no to you. not that he wanted to; sae would follow you anywhere, buy you anything. he learned, after you took his number while beaming up at him, that he would do anything to make you smile like that again.

even if it meant hurting his wallet for the next few hours.

“what do you think of this one? i feel like it is too sweet on me.” you brought your freshly spritzed wrist to his nose, where sae inhaled the scent of peach blossoms. definitely sweet, but he liked it on you.

“do you want it?”

you hummed and took another sniff. “it’s not too sweet..?”

sae nudged your wrist with his finger. “i like it on you.”

“then i will buy it!”

sae followed you around the outlet with no intentions of letting you pay for anything. anytime you tried, he’d give the cashier a death glare and slip his black card across the counter when they lied and said yours wasn’t compatible with their foreign system.

it got so bad that you had to ask sae to stop trying to buy everything you looked at. “i don’t need a solid gold chess set, really! please put the card away.”

though he had terrible financial responsibility, sae followed you around like a lost puppy, and you found that utterly adorable. “i will miss you when i fly back home. are we friends? can i text you?”

“yes,” sae answered without hesitation. his face remained blank, but you noticed the very tips of his ears were slightly flushed and smiled big at him. “to both.”

“then i will text you! and maybe i will return so you can take me on a real date!”

more than just the tips of sae’s ears turned pink when you leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “until then, friend!”

an: the friend zone is temporary they def hold hands and kiss in cafes

[03jyh23]

༘⋆mon's 500 followers special.ᐟ.ᐟ 500-word prompt roulette⟢

☕️┆more than just coffee

kim hongjoong x gn! reader

│synopsis: the one where hongjoong finally makes a move

│genre: fluff

│trigger warnings: none

│roulette prompt 4 + hongjoong

You were sprawled across the sofa in Hongjoong's studio. Being his best friend meant regular visits to his studio were mandatory - especially when armed with his favorite iced coffee. Though if anyone asked you, the coffee was just a bonus - you were the real gift, a fact you never failed to remind him whenever he pretended to be annoyed by your surprise appearances.

"...and the deadline is in two days! TWO DAYS! How am I supposed to finish this track when the company keeps changing their mind about the direction?" Hongjoong ran his fingers through his blue hair, sprawling on his chair.

You watched him with a small smile playing on your lips, finding his passionate rant endearing. His dedication to his work was one of the things you admired most about him.

Mid-rant, he caught your expression and stopped abruptly. "What?" he asks as your smile only widens, making him suddenly self-conscious. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

You smile. "You're just really cute when you talk."

Hongjoong's face flushes a deep red, and he quickly spins his chair back to face his computer screen. "I-I'm not cute," he mutters, but you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. "And stop distracting me, I need to work."

You got up from the sofa. "Alright, if you really want me to go..." you tease as you take your bag.

Hongjoong's head snaps up immediately, his eyes widening. "Wait, no - I didn't mean..." He trails off, looking torn between his work and not wanting you to leave. "Just... stay a bit longer? Please?"

"Only if you'll agree that you are cute," you say as you come close to him, ruffling his blue fringe. It always surprised you how he maintained his hair so soft while bleaching it at least twice a month. He takes your wrist, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want you thinking I'm cute," he almost whispers, tone suddenly serious as the atmosphere changes. "Y/N... do you really see me only as your cute friend?"

Your heart skips a beat at his question, at the intensity in his gaze as he still holds your wrist. The playful atmosphere from moments ago has shifted into something charged with unspoken feelings. You open your mouth to answer, but the words catch in your throat.

"What do you mean?" you ask softly, though your racing heart tells you that you know exactly what he means.

Hongjoong's grip on your wrist loosens, but he doesn't let go. His thumb traces small circles on your skin, "I mean... when you look at me, when you come here with coffee and make me laugh even on my worst days, when you stay despite my workaholic tendencies... what do you feel?"

You let out an awkward laugh, the sound coming out more like a puff of air than anything else. Your heart is thundering in your chest.

"I..." you start, trying to find the right words while fighting the urge to deflect with humor like you usually do. Your palms are sweaty, and you're terrified of ruining years of friendship with what you might say next. "I come here because..." you pause, swallowing hard. "Because I like being around you, you’re my best friend..." The last part comes out barely above a whisper, and you can't quite meet his eyes.

Hongjoong's hands tighten slightly around your wrist, and you can feel him tense at your words. "Best friend," he repeats, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. "Fuck it," he mutters, rising from his chair abruptly. Your breath catches in your throat as he pulls you closer, leaving barely any space between you. His eyes flicker to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "Maybe this will change your mind," he whispers, and before you can process what's happening, he closes the remaining distance.

His lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, soft and hesitant at first, as if he's giving you a chance to pull away. But when you respond by sliding your hands up to his shoulders, he deepens the kiss, one hand moving to cup your face while the other wraps around your waist.

You pull back, your heart racing as you try to catch your breath. "Well," you say with a nervous laugh, "I don't remember this being in the friendship contract. Did we miss a clause somewhere?"

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, giving you a light push. "Really? That's what you're going with right now?" He drops back into his chair, crossing his arms with an exaggerated pout. "Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you make dad jokes."

"It's part of my charm," you say, but your voice wavers slightly, still affected by the kiss.

"You're impossible," he mutters, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting a smile.

"I like you too," you blurt out suddenly, making Hongjoong freeze. "And not just as a friend. I... I've liked you for a while now."

His eyes light up, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "Yeah?" he asks softly, reaching for your hand.

"Yeah," you confirm, intertwining your fingers with his. "Though I have to warn you, the coffee deliveries might get more expensive now that we're dating."

Hongjoong's eyebrows shoot up, and he gives you an incredulous look. "Oh, so we're dating now? Just like that?" He leans back in his chair with an amused smirk. "I don't remember being asked on a proper date yet. The audacity!"

You laugh, squeezing his hand. "Are you saying you want me to woo you, Kim Hongjoong?"

"I'm just saying," he says with an exaggerated sniff, "that a person of my caliber deserves at least a proper dinner invitation before being claimed as someone's boyfriend."

"Fine," you say, rolling your eyes fondly. "Kim Hongjoong, would you like to go on a date with me? Maybe somewhere that serves better coffee than what I bring you?"

His face breaks into that bright smile you love so much. "Now was that so hard?" he teases, pulling you closer. "And for the record, no coffee tastes better than the ones you bring me."

You pull him into another kiss, softer this time, filled with all the unspoken feelings you've held back for so long. When you finally break apart, you rest your forehead against his, both of you wearing matching grins. "So, about that date..." you start, but Hongjoong's already reaching for his coat.

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[bunny-jpeg]

bunny, dearest!! i’ve truly been craving some spicier brownies lately, perhaps with a side of coffee. oh, and a mocha, too, for max ☕️ xx

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want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of options to choose from! so please, check it out! i also accept prompts outside of f1! i've recently added some new prompts, so i hope you enjoy them! as for this anon, thank you for the lovely request! it's a lot of chocolate (yum)! i hope you enjoy!

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brownies ("you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours.") + coffee (rivals au) + mocha (breeding kink) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, ferrari driver!reader, breeding kink, pregnancy, dirty talk, rough sex, mean!max, doggy style

max had his fair share of rivals. from being the best along side lewis hamilton to the childhood rivalry he shared with charles leclerc. while he was able to brush those off, laughing about how it was all in good fun. part of the game was to be able to go wheel to wheel with another driver.

you, on the other hand. ferrari's little trail blazer. needed to be put in your goddamn places. especially when you made him dnf at the dutch grand prix.

"you're a bitch."

"and you apparently don't know how drive." you shoved max away from you. you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

"they should've never let you on the track. not when you're driving like a madwoman. they should revoke your license, you bitch."

this was the face of mad max. the stubborn, aggressive, almost insane driver that they let on the track at seventeen. but you held your ground as you spat back, "aw, is someone made that daddy was watching you spin out? is that why you're getting in my goddamn face you fucking prick!"

max could feel his lip twitch. he grabbed you by the front of your ferrari shirt and kissed you deeply. you were both in your hotel room, which max bulled himself into. now you were pressed against the back of the door with max's hands digging into the front of the shirt.

there was a moment of silence, the two of you looking at one another. two rivals till the bitter end. then it happened. you kissed one another with a hot fever.

when you pulled away, you saw the tension leave his shoulders. you said, "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours." then ran your thumb across his soft lips, "is that all you needed? a kiss. what are you twelve?"

he exhaled deeply through his nose before he said, "no, i need to fuck you." then he took your shirt from the bottom and started to get you undressed.

sneakers kicked off by the door. your shirt over the couch, his jeans thrown in the direction of the window. your panties ended up over the nightstand and the rest of your clothes were in various places around the room.

max had you pinned under him, your ass up against his hard cock. the rush of today's race still sparked in your minds as he rubbed his achy cock against your wet cunt.

"you're a bad girl." he said.

"oh yeah? what does that make you, verstappen? god of the track? coming to give me salvation?" you groaned as he he pushed his achy cock inside of you. you exhaled deeply and arched your back.

he chuckled as he sank in all the way, his breath came through his teeth, "yeah. i am." he sounded almost cocky and it made a shiver run through you. he watched you hold onto the white sheets of the hotel bed. you felt good.

you have had sex before. this wasn't a new thing for either of you. he had multiple times buried his cock into your pussy and fucked you until the headboard put a dent in the wall. until the likes of your teammate (max's other rival) was banging on the shared wall to get you to shut up.

max's grip was possessive, there was little tenderness between you two as he rutted against you. he could feel the heat bloom in his face as he curved over you. making sure that his cock got into the softest parts of you. he was going to make sure that he kept you under him. and off the track, not when you felt this good against him.

your pretty cunt clung to him like a vice as he felt the heat flare up to his ears. he panted heavily like a dog as you whined in response like something more needy. his pace was erratic and the throb in his chest was noticeable. it all felt so hot and it burned both of you.

"you look good under me. where you belong. right at the bottom of the grid." he laughed, a little darkness to his tone. he could feel the sweat on the back of his neck as he continued to move. it all felt painfully hot for him.

you hissed between heavy thrusts and gripped onto the covers under you. you replied, "i want to see your downfall, verstappen."

he chuckled and kissed at you neck. he held onto you tightly and pressed more of his weight onto you. he said, "right, right. you want me to crash, you want me to retire. i've heard it all. but, i'm not retiring." he kissed the shell of your ear and said softly, "you are though."

"in your dreams." you arched your back a little bit. you panted heavily, "not until i get my world championship."

max snickered to himself as he continued to move against you. moving your hips alongside his cock. you gasped into the covers at the sensation and knew that your career was going to be swift and short. after all, who was going to take care of his baby?

he didn't want to leave his child with you alone with nannies. no, they had to be with their mother. which meant hanging up the helmet and picking up toys. the thought excited him as he continued to bully his cock up against your pussy.

he let himself indulge in your sweetness. it all felt so good.

"you're a sick fuck." you whined, "next time i'll make sure you dnf again. i'm going to snatch that trophy out of your hand."

he pressed himself up against, you almost bending you in half. his weight left you squirming pathetically under him. he chuckled, "right, right." he almost laughed at the thought. you with the world champion trophy.

the only thing you were going to be a champion at the end of this season was how good you could take max's cock. but that's alright, if you do a good job, he'll get you a little trophy.

you groaned into the covers soon after, the pleasure washed over you. and you almost hit your fist against the covers. you felt the heat in your brain as you groaned into the pillows. max only took it as a sign to fuck you harder. he watched your ass bounce as he fucked you with a renewed energy. when he came he grit his teeth and panted heavily against you.

he could feel his cock throb inside of you as he came. cum being spat out into the back of your womb. part of him prayed that this time it would take. but then again, you two had a whole rest of the season to make that happen.

you may not be getting your trophy at the end of the year. but max will let you kiss it after he holds it over his head. he had to be a good husband after all.

-

"you're insane if you think i'm wearing the red bull logo." you held your head high. your arms crossed over your chest.

max crowded into your space with one of his shirts in hand. he said lowly, "well the ferrari ones aren't fitting anymore are they?"

you placed a hand on the middle of his chest to get him to step back. you said, "i can always ask charles or lewis to give me a new size." you were currently almost seven months pregnant with your first child.

apparently the hate fuck after the dutch grand prix resulted in a little accident. in the heat of it all and the insanity of the week's race, you were basically without protection. and thus the next generation of racer was conceive.

even though you and max were about to get married, you refused to wear the gaudy colours of red bull. just because you retired early to have you son, didn't mean you were max's kept woman. you already had plans to work with mercedes after the birth of your son. anything but red bull.

he reached for your belly and gave it a rub, "just make my life easier."

you stepped towards him, now crowding his space. you took him by the jaw and made him look at you. you chuckled a little, it was amusing, "max, if you wanted a woman that wasn't going to bust your balls. then you shouldn't have gotten your rival pregnant."

even as his future wife, you still got under his skin. as he wrapped his strong arms around you, he said, "you're going to be the death of me."

you smiled at him, "good, i bet the insurance check will be lovely." <3

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

DEAR SPRING, STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO, SHOKO IEIRI

synopsis; another mellow breakfast shared between you and your lovers, in the wake of a spring soon to rise.

word count; 3.8k

contents; sashisu/reader (poly relationship!), gn!reader, all of you are whippeddd, plenty of petnames (my love; baby; etc), literally just breakfast fluff, it ended up kinda sugucentric on accident (not my fault btw he just really loves making breakfast for you and that’s on him), also ended up kinda sappy at the end (that’s on me), implied no curses au, they’re in their twenties but it isn’t specified, everyone is eepy and in love <33

a/n; a little breakfast fic bc i love mornings and i love them :33 (tagging my beloved sashisu soldiers @catchuuu @staryukis i am making breakfast for both of u btw ☕️🥞) pls listen to spring thief by yorushika it’s the most sashisu song ever

as always, suguru is the first of you to make it to the kitchen.

he’s humming. it’s soft, a low lull of his voice, like a siren beckoning from the edge of the ocean. sleeves rolled up and exposing his forearms, his deft fingers fiddle with a sizzling pan— simmering with the scent of freshly made pancakes. it pairs well with the espresso steam from the coffee pot to his right, the vase of hydrangeas blooming by the windowsill.

you breathe it all in, through your nose. pure bliss.

it’s a sunny, perfect morning, the ideal setting for the start of a new week. an atmosphere you can savour, like the slow, measured sipping of your soon-to-be morning cup of coffee. somewhere outside your vision stirs a morning symphony, chirps and songs by cicadas and robins, splotches of sunlight splattering against the windows, the kitchen table, each and every one of the floorboards.

illuminating the man in front of the stove.

something in your chest constricts, when you look at him. a tenderness uprooted, a fondness watered and trimmed, a hungry plant only satiated at the sight of this; the back of his head, raven locks cascading down his broad shoulders in obsidian waves, hair put up into a lazy half-down bun. a little messy, a little too breathtaking for words. wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his waist just right.

you should be used to it, by now. suguru has always been an early bird, always the first to stumble out of bed, though satoru and shoko give him a run for his money on some days. his tendencies to cling and follow, her occasional bouts of sleep-deprivation. but suguru is different. he’s always waiting for the three of you, just like this— in front of the stove, or seated on the kitchen table, adjusting his glasses or reading the newspaper or simply waiting, like it's nothing, like it comes to him as easy as the passing of your everyday life. content to stir in the peace and quiet, before the world wakes up. 

and he’s always taken to preparing breakfast for the four of you, always ready to greet you with a smile and a cup of freshly made coffee. he enjoys taking care of you, all three of you. always has.

(it wasn’t any different back when you were kids. suguru was always the first one in the dormitory’s kitchen, messing with the rusty french press or making a grossly bitter smoothie for himself. he was snarkier, more roundabout— but no less thoughtful. grumpy little shoko would always get the last bitter pumps of espresso, and sleepy little satoru would get a french toast if he asked nicely enough. and you? 

you got to see them, be with them. that alone would’ve been enough. the steaming cup left on the kitchen counter— a little too tailored to your taste to be a mere coincidence— was always nothing more than an added bonus.)

the soft humming falters, for no more than a beat or two.

suguru shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and suddenly you can’t resist the temptation.

with clumsy steps, weighed down by a sleepy sense of numbness, you stumble towards your target. it’s a familiar waltz: five steps to reach him, a warmth that spreads throughout your body in tandem with the curl of your arms around his waist. slumped against him, cheek against his upper back— you hold your breath.

silently, you wait. one, two, until you hear the familiar roll of his breath.

a delighted sigh, slipping from his parted lips, and into the air.

when suguru cranes his head to get a glimpse of you, his amber eyes are leaking adoration. a sense of liveliness, albeit subdued, a joyous spark— like a firefly, the flicker of a rusty lighter. he looks well-rested, dark circles long faded, only the dimmest remnant of them still visible beneath his eyes. for a moment he holds your gaze, steady and kind, but then he’s leaning forward; eager to press his lips against your temple. his glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose, but he doesn't seem to mind.

the kiss is chaste, familiar. warm, warm, faint heat inside your chest, a tiny firework of a feeling. even the piercing on his bottom lip feels nothing but warm. 

you melt into his spine, fingers searching for a pair of hands that find yours first— his thumb rubbing tender circles into the skin of your forearm. practiced, memorized, that familiar waltz of motions. he lingers against your skin, breathing in satoru’s favorite strawberry shampoo. you’ve been stealing it for weeks now. 

suguru’s lips curl into something amused, still not quite willing to part from you. 

but then he does. he turns towards the stove, reaching for the coffee pot with one hand, the other lacing your fingers together. he gives your palm a gentle squeeze, lets them both rest on his lower stomach.

a silent greeting. one he always ends up voicing, anyway.

”g’morning, love,” he croons, a little raspy, but sweet and nice. honeyed and deep, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. you hear him pour something into a cup. ”how did you sleep?”

the only response you can muster is a tired, garbled noise, stretching your limbs and blinking your sluggish eyelids to shoo away the drowsiness. suguru knows what to expect; he simply smiles, endeared, pouring steamed milk into your favorite cup.

with a clink of his spoon against the ceramic, he adds the foam. stirring it, carefully.

then he’s shifting his weight, angling his face towards yours, and pressing the rim of the cup against your lips— not before blowing on its surface. your eyelids flutter, and he waits. waits for your eyes to close, in bliss, for the hum of contentment he’ll hear once you've had your first sip. and he gets it. he gets exactly what he wants. the rich aroma stirs you awake, and a single taste of the creamy foam has you standing up a little straighter, humming in sleepy delight. suguru smiles, crinkled eyes hidden behind his glasses. 

you accept the cup with a grateful squeeze to his palm, and he makes sure it’s steady in your hold before he faces forward again. another sip, and your throat feels a little less dry, your mind a lot less sluggish. so you answer his question. 

”… slept well,” another tiny sip. it’s hot, warming you up from the inside. ”i would’ve preferred waking up to you, though...”

a low chuckle bubbles up in your boyfriend’s throat. it makes you want to pout, but you smile instead. traitorous lips. 

he’s looking at you again, unable to help himself, the orpheus to your eurydice. reaching over to brush his thumb against your lip, wiping at a milk-foam stain, though you both know it's an excuse. ”aw, ’m sorry, baby,” he coos, sickeningly sweet. ”but then you wouldn’t have woken up to a fresh cup of coffee, hm?” 

now you really are pouting. he shifts, until you're standing chest to chest, and kisses it away. twice, for good measure. he must be in a good mood.

he usually is, at this time of year. when the air starts smelling of honeydew and snowdrops, when he’s awoken by more than just silence, more than gentle snores. barking dogs, luscious sunbeams splattered on soft bedsheets, the pitter patter of sudden spring showers beating against the windowpane. when the apricot trees outside your apartment complex begin to bloom. a flurry of sickly-white kisses pressed against your windows, sticking to the locks of your hair. it gives him an excuse to run his fingers through them— even when shoko whines for him to cut it out, and satoru purposefully shakes the branches to make the tiny white petals even harder to find. he must like having his hair ruffled like a misbehaving dog. 

they make suguru sigh and sigh, exasperated, but there’s always a smile waiting somewhere out of view. he isn't very good at hiding it.

(he likes the apricot trees. likes watching them change shape, colour, likes waiting for them to wither and blossom and turn into fruit.

once they’re ripe enough to pick, i’ll make marmalade for us.)

the morning waltz continues, swaying at a rhythm only the two of you are privy to. while suguru continues to flip pancakes, you sleepily decide to set the table. fondness erupts behind his eyelids at the gesture, small as it is. you can tell by the hum that scrapes against the base of his throat. standing on your tiptoes, you reach for the highest shelf, just to grab satoru’s favorite mug; a plain white, with bold, red letters etched into the front, the heartfelt title of world’s okayest boyfriend. it was a gag gift for his 20th birthday, something to make him pout and whine— but you’ve never seen him drink out of anything else at home.

you place the cup on the table with a soft thunk. then the plates, then the cutlery. suguru has already grabbed a cup for shoko, placed it on the kitchen counter next to him, soon to be filled with the rich espresso they always drink. he’s waiting until she joins you both, so it doesn’t end up lukewarm. there’s nothing shoko hates more. you can practically hear that grumpy scoff, see the crease between her brows.

your sleep schedules differ from day to day, so there really is no telling when they'll show. suguru is always up early, satoru is unpredictable— sometimes the first to wake, but never the first to leave the comfort of your mattress— and shoko fluctuates between rising early and rising well into the thin line between morning and day. you, on the other hand, usually wake when the bed starts feeling a little too empty. a fact you doubt they’ll ever quit teasing you about.

sleeping arrangements are another matter. sometimes you sleep with suguru, sometimes the other two, sometimes all three of them. sometimes, but rarely, alone. even if you tried, you're sure they'd hunt you down— you may have your separate rooms, but you always end up with your limbs intertwined one way or another. even if one of you comes home late, or falls asleep on the couch watching tv. you need each other, after all: satoru can’t sleep without feeling something nestled right against him, and suguru can’t fall asleep unless he knows you’re all sleeping well. shoko isn’t picky, but you know she feels safest when she’s linking elbows with you, or touching pinkies with suguru, or snoozing on top of satoru’s chest like a weighted blanket.

as for you… you’ve gotten way too used to their touch to ever go without it. last night, you ended up in suguru’s room, tucked underneath his chin, while satoru snuck into shoko’s bed to convince her not to pull another all-nighter. you’re assuming it worked.

”mm, smells good. you makin’ pancakes?”

a bubbly, but weary voice. it spills into the air just as a breeze flits through the window. soothing, refreshing. you turn your gaze towards its source.

and there they are. sleepy satoru, and grumpy shoko, the former clinging to the latter like an overgrown koala. satoru seems to be in high spirits, blue eyes glimmering like a sunny sky; but you can tell he’s tired by the way he’s stretching out his limbs, only wearing a pair of cinnamoroll-themed pyjama pants. shoko is silent, blinking drowsily, twitching when his loud voice buzzes in her ear.

she makes no move to push him away, however.

suguru gazes at them with a smile, in tandem with you, nothing but fond. loving, in the way the amber of his eyes gleams and swirls with promises of something everlasting. he’s a little intense, honestly.

(of course, you wouldn’t have him any other way.)

… and, admittedly, your sleepy partners are a sight for sore eyes. 

when shoko meets your love-struck gaze, she finally decides to shake off the limbs wrapped around her shoulders. satoru huffs, but makes no move to chase her when she stumbles into your arms. 

her limbs find their way around your midriff, her chin to the curve of your shoulder. her hair is loose, messy and brushing against your cheek, reaching just past her armpits. hints of coconut, lavender, suguru's expensive oils. your hand goes to smooth down her back, the fabric of her oversized shirt, soft and laced with the scent of laundry detergent. she yawns, right by your ear— lips jutted out into a small pout— and that something in your chest makes its presence known again. a hungry plant, drinking up her raspy voice, the glimpse you get of the mole beneath her eye. stretch marks, when she pulls away and her shirt rides up enough to expose her thighs.

”morning,” you whisper. she presses a kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips; sometimes you think she does it just to tease you.

”hey, how come i didn’t get a morning kiss?”

shoko turns her head, to find satoru’s accusing stare. he’s pouting, tilting his head, already making his way over to suguru. but she only rolls her eyes.

”you’re such a baby.”

”you love me. you’re in love with me.”

suguru stifles a puff of laughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter. steady elbows against the marble. watching his partners, with barely contained delight, a soft grin mirrored by the partner inching closer. he throws his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

satoru’s kisses are always sloppy. you hear the drawn out mwah! even without looking at the pair, without seeing his lips against suguru’s jaw. a phantom warmth sprouts on your skin. 

”good morning, handsome,” he purrs, low and rumbling through his chest— pressed flush against suguru’s, their heartbeats mingling together. soft skin against smooth fabric. there’s mischief in those sparkling eyes, something teasing, and it makes suguru want to return the favour. 

”good morning, baby,” he presses his lips against satoru’s cheek. voice muffled against his soft skin, silky and deep. ”you kinda smell.”

a moment passes. the calm before the storm.

satoru blinks, barely registering shoko’s dry chuckle from behind him— and then furrows his eyebrows like an irritated cat. a scandalized noise builds up at the base of his throat, and he glares at the man in front of him, frustration only growing when he notices that suguru isn’t returning the favour. his gaze is still fond, like an artist admiring a marble statue, drinking in his pouty boyfriend’s fluffy hair and droopy eyes and rosy lips. flattering, but the damage has been done.

”oh, i see how it is,” he withdraws his arms and takes a step back, crossing them with a hmph. ”bullying your sweet boyfriend first thing in the morning, huh? before i've even had my coffee?"

”sorry. you just look really bulliable today.”

another offended noise. he turns on his heel, messy strands of hair swaying with the movement, choosing to glare at shoko instead. ”unbelievable…”

"also, you don't drink coffee."

you huff out a breathy laugh, taking a seat by the kitchen table while your lovers bicker. sipping from your cappuccino, in silence, soaking up the mellow morning mood. until you feel satoru staring at you; eyes like marbles, big and bright, rich with mirth. his pout fades away, and he closes in on you with a smile. troubles forgotten. 

before you can greet him, he’s leaning down to leave a fat kiss on your forehead— messy, uncoordinated, but loving. a coo on the tip of his tongue. when he’s this close you can see his dimples, those tiny freckles that only come out in the light of the sun. 

you feel him smile against your skin, pulling back to speak. parting his pretty, glossy lips. ”and good morning to you, my dearest.”

(he’s silly.)

your lips bloom into a sweet grin, honeyed nectar on your teeth. he’s illuminated by the light streaming in through the window, a little disheveled, with his charming bedhead and bare chest— gleaming like a star you plucked out of the sky. a giggle slips from your lips, your voice coming out a soft croon. ”good morning, sunshine.”

satoru blinks. just once, before the telltale signs of his excitement start to show; his face brightening, breaking out into a cheshire grin, something sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. like folded origami, like messily cut fruit. citrusy and smooth.

before you can protest, those strong arms are reaching around your waist— hoisting you up into his arms with a coo of c’mere. he spins you around, just once or twice, chuckles at the sleepy yelp you let slip. even after stilling, he doesn’t put you down, guiding your legs to wrap around his middle, his naked chest and muscles pressed flush against you. he’s warm, one large palm on your back and the other on your thigh. touching you like it’s muscle memory, every ridge and dip, every part of you he’s already long mapped out. honestly, you don’t understand how he can get so excited this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain, when it means getting smothered like this? 

”oh, and i smell great, by the way,” he suddenly huffs, directed at the partners behind him. he’s quick to smile down at you, tilting his head in search for approval. ”don’t i, baby?”

for a second, you’re tempted to join in on the teasing. some part of you wants to— wants to see the way his expression would crumble, would twist in petulant, crinkled irritation— but it loses against the parts of you still mesmerized by the splotches of white inside his pretty eyes. those little freckles. so you nod.

”yeah,” you breathe. inhaling, taking him in, sunlight and strawberries and laundry detergent. ”you smell like spring.”

brighter than the sun, his smile continues to blossom. turning sweeter by the minute. he throws a victorious glance behind him, delighting in the simultaneous roll of their eyes— before finally putting you back down. he wastes no time in plopping down on the seat to your right, dragging your chair closer to his, until they’re edge to edge. curling a leg around yours. so clingy in the morning. 

suguru and shoko are quick to join you. they blink slowly, sipping on their cups of espresso, a rich aroma spreading throughout the kitchen. it blends well with the plates of pancakes suguru scoots towards you, drizzled with the maple syrup satoru's so fond of. he’s attentive, making sure you’re all comfortable, rising to his feet when shoko asks for a single cube of sugar. she’s started to mellow out a bit, no longer as grumpy, soothed by the bitter taste. satoru keeps your leg locked in place beneath the table.

it’s hard not to feel nostalgic, like this. when spring is blooming just outside your window, when all three of them are just the same as you remember. some things have changed, sure— but they’re still so unapologetically them. loud voices, eye-rolls, teasing comments and all.

they munch on their pancakes, sip on their coffee, and you chat about what to do when you all get home. what movie to watch, what food to order, what food to make because suguru doesn’t think you’ve been eating enough homemade meals lately. bickering and bantering. smiling.

(it feels like high school every day.)

shoko is the first to leave. she glances at the clock on the wall and stutters out a string of curse words, a mutter about being late. suguru plays dumb, when she accuses him of not reminding her on purpose. she kisses you again, right under your jaw, and lets her clingy boyfriends give her one kiss each on the lips— despite her protests that they’ll mess up her lipstick. then she’s heading out.

”goodbye, doctor!” satoru calls, cheery even as your girlfriend rolls her pretty eyes.

”don’t call me that yet,” she snorts, adjusting her scarf. ”there’s still a good chance i’ll drop out. or cheat my way to a doctorate.”

so she says, but you all know her. you catch that glimmer of amusement in her eyes, something smug in the way she straightens her back. a little embarrassed, maybe. but the faith you have in her makes her glow.

then it’s satoru’s turn. he’s whinier, about it, ignoring the alarms on his phone on purpose. suguru has to bribe him, promising him kikufuku and take-out and an extra steamy kiss when he gets home. only then does he get up from his seat, untangling his leg with yours.

”do i have to?”

”yes, you do,” suguru tuts. ”the kids have an exam today. be responsible.”

another pout. but he listens, slipping on his sunglasses, putting on a coat and stealing a sip of your coffee that only makes him grimace. he has you both kiss the taste away, and you indulge him, because he’s silly and stupid and yours. 

and then it’s just you and suguru. he has the day off, and you don’t have to leave until later in the day, stretching towards evening. the kitchen falls silent, back to that quiet waltz of motions and sunshine. suguru pours you more coffee, gazing at you from across the table, and you thank him with a smile. he adjusts his glasses and flips through the morning newspaper; absently, you wonder if shoko and satoru would’ve teased him for it.

what the four of you have is an odd arrangement. but that’s what all of you are, anyway— a little odd. 

and as you sit there, serenaded by cicadas and morning birds, senses caressed by cappuccino foam and apricot blossoms and a hand holding yours over the table… you think to yourself that even if everything shattered around you— if the earth stopped spinning or the stars crashed through the roof of your apartment— you’d probably still keep on living. you’d do it, if only to continue chewing on these memories, these mornings, like savouring the faded flavour of an old piece of gum. over and over again, until you can’t tell where your teeth end and where the gum begins. so that you’ll always be able to taste it on your tongue. for the rest of your life.

... it’s melodramatic, yes— but they are too. you’re sure suguru is pondering a sentiment even more dramatic, right now, even heavier with devotion. something so sappy you’d have to hide your face in your hands and beg him to stop talking. 

and, lo and behold, he suddenly speaks up. 

“are you happy?”

the question breaks you out of your silent stupor. you look up from your plate, his amber eyes already taking you in, drowning you in fondness. he’s smiling, and he’s looking at you like you’re spring personified. the silver of his lip piercing catches the light of the sun. an apricot petal is stuck in his hair, woven between raven locks. 

you blink. inside your chest, something unfurls, twists and turns; grows and withers all at once. a whole garden of love, just for them.

you lean forward, elbows on the table, to brush through his bangs. petal caught between your fingertips.

when you lean back, you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you answer, truthfully. inhaling the scent of spring. “i’m always happy when i’m with you.”

a breeze caresses your cheek, your hands, and the whole apartment smells of apricots. suguru seems pleased, returning to his cup of lukewarm coffee, a little clink of ceramic against porcelain that strikes you as distinctly heavenly.

soon, you’ll have to leave. you’ll have to manage without their jokes and banter and touches, without them, for a grueling number of hours, one tortuous lecture after another. but they’ll be waiting once you get back— and tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast again, just like this. forever and ever. you never want the coffee to run out, never want the apricot trees to wither. you want to stay greedy for a long time to come. 

and you’re sure they feel the same.

the sun lets her golden hair flow throughout the city, melting rivers and warming benches. she falls across shoko’s lecture hall, sneaks into satoru’s classroom, kisses her way up suguru’s neck. you let a sigh slip past your lips, and the sun breathes it in again— a vein of joy awoken from its slumber, rushing through your blood.

and you smile.

it’s springtime, now. a little warmer. 

(here’s to another year together.)

[hannie-berrie]

COFFEE & BEANS ☕️

pairing: Jihoon x F reader

Genre: fluff, relationship, Jihoon wakes you up in the morning

You always slept a little longer than Jihoon. He was a morning person, not the kind to enjoy waking up in the early hours and watch the sunrise but early enough so he could get to see your pretty still sleepy head next to him.

You were the opposite, your relationship with mornings is rather difficult, you’d often wake up angry at the sunlight for waking you up, but your bitterness would dissipate when you feel the presence of your boyfriend, arms wrapped around you.

He always found gentle and creative ways to wake you up, sometimes humming a song you really like, or kissing your face sweetly until a smile rises up your face.

This morning was no different, the first thing you felt was warmth. The sunlight casting through the slightly open curtain hugged your skin, just like you boyfriend. One arm around your waist, the other drawing little circles on your back with his thumb. He wasn’t really trying to wake you up, at least not yet, so when you moved a little he immediately stood up.

“Love?”

no response, he leaned in closer to notice that your breathing had changed. His small breaths tingling your ear.

“Morning sleepyhead” he excitedly hugged you, just so happy that you woke up a little earlier than usual, that meant he could spend a few more minutes in with you this morning.

You yet again didn’t answer, but couldn’t resist smiling.

“There it is” he tickled your neck a little “you’re awake” you squealed at the sudden attack, battling his fingers in the crook of your neck.

“Mhmm why’d you look so good when you wake up” you stretched “Hm, me?” Jihoon pointed at himself with a fake surprised expression.

You nod “it’s not fair, my hair is tangled and my eyes are puffy and you just look like.. a prince?”

Jihoon giggled once again, so cheesy, and he was gonna match that energy, “what does that make you? My sleeping beauty?” “More like Maleficient guarding her last hour of sleep” you both giggles like kids

Jihoon’s laugh is just so pretty, your chest flutters at the sound, he always sounds the happiest in the mornings, when he gets to have you all for himself.

[camficdiner]

hello! could I order (1.2)(2.13)(bonus.7)(3.3)(4.3) thank you!! your writing is amazing omg. also could you give this a happy ending? anddd i think you should post that quinn fic 😉

☕️ Cams Fic Diner – Order 060

🍒 Thank you: thank you for giving me everything I’ve ever wanted — enemies to lovers, flowers as obsession, sex on a podcast desk, and a public reveal that breaks the internet. You have my heart.

💬 “Say That Again While I’m Inside You”

✨ description & prompts

• Character: Quinn Hughes

• Prompt: You’re a podcaster — sharp-tongued, loud, chaotic, too much in every way Quinn Hughes claims to hate. He’s quiet, reserved, and cold as hell — and you despise him for it. The two of you pretend to hate each other, but everyone sees through it. After a particularly viral roast on your show, flowers start arriving. No name. No note.

• Type: enemies to lovers • happy ending

• WC: ~1.6k

• type: smut

🛼✨🍒🧁

You knew the flowers weren’t random.

At first you played it off. A fan, maybe. PR stunt. Podcast listeners had been going feral over your recent episode — the one where you, very casually, very unapologetically, roasted the Vancouver Canucks’ captain for being:

“Quiet. Cardboard. Like, the hockey version of unseasoned rice.”

Jack and Luke had texted you cry-laughing emojis. Your comments were full of theories. But the flowers started showing up after that one.

No note.

No name.

Just different types every time. Clean, expensive. Bouquets with meaning, if you knew how to read them. And maybe you did know.

Which is why you started wearing shorter skirts in the studio. Louder lipstick. More smirks on camera when you said his name.

You don’t even flinch when the door opens behind you after your recording session one week later.

You just sip your iced coffee and say:

“You’re late, Hughes.”

The click of the door echoes in the empty studio. You’re the only one left. Everyone else has gone home. Except the camera still rolling, still capturing the tail end of the podcast — and the man now standing in front of you.

Quinn looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

His jaw is locked. His eyes are dark. His hair’s a mess like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. He’s wearing a hoodie and joggers, but it doesn’t make him look soft. Not today.

Today, he looks like a man about to snap.

“You’ve been sending flowers,” you say, leaning back on your desk. “Very poetic for someone who thinks I’m a fucking nuisance.”

“Shut up.”

Your brows shoot up.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He takes two steps closer. “You don’t shut up. That’s your thing, right? Loud. Brash. Always running your mouth.”

“And yet here you are,” you purr. “Standing in my studio like a good little fanboy.”

His breath catches. His hands curl into fists.

“You’re exhausting,” he says, voice low. “Every time you talk, I want to throw something through the wall.”

“Then why the flowers, Hughes?”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then?

“Because I didn’t know what else to do with myself.”

He closes the distance between you in two long strides. You’re caged between his arms before you can reply, his hands on either side of your desk.

“You get under my skin,” he growls. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I hate it.”

“You hate me?”

“I hate how much I want you.”

You smirk. “That’s not hate, baby. That’s obsession.”

Something snaps.

He grabs your face and kisses you like he’s been starving for weeks. It’s not sweet. It’s devouring. Tongue, teeth, breathless fury. He lifts you onto the desk and knocks your coffee to the floor with a crash that neither of you even notice.

“Camera’s still on,” you whisper against his mouth.

“Don’t care.”

He pushes your skirt up. Pulls your panties down. Doesn’t stop kissing you for even a second. You’re gasping into his mouth, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers clawing at his hoodie.

“This how you get off?” he mutters, dragging his fingers through your folds. “Talking shit on camera, teasing me until I snap?”

“Looks like it worked.”

He lets out a laugh — dark, filthy.

“Yeah? Still think I don’t have a personality, princess?”

You open your mouth, but he presses two fingers into you — deep, rough — and you whimper instead.

“Didn’t catch that,” he smirks. “You were saying?”

“You’re such an asshole—”

“And you’re dripping wet for me.”

Then he’s pulling himself free — thick, flushed, already leaking — and you don’t have time to snark back because he thrusts in one long, brutal stroke that makes your vision white out.

“Fuck—”

“Louder,” he hisses. “Since that’s what you’re best at.”

You moan — loud enough to echo off the walls. His hips slam into yours, your desk rocking under you. Every thrust is pure spite and obsession. He grips your throat, not choking, just holding — like he needs to anchor himself to something.

“Can’t believe I’m falling for your loud, messy bullshit,” he growls. “Can’t stand you, and I still wanna be inside you every fucking day.”

You bite his shoulder. He groans and thrusts harder.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Use me. Hate me. I don’t care. Just—fuck—don’t stop.”

Your orgasm hits like a train — all white-hot pressure and Quinn’s name falling off your lips. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep, forehead pressed to yours, hips stuttering.

“Say it again,” he breathes.

“Say what?”

“Call me a boring asshole while I’m still inside you.”

You laugh.

He kisses you again.

And the camera blinks red behind you.

Still rolling.

---------

It’s only a few seconds of footage.

No sound. No context. Just a single, lingering clip pulled from the raw podcast camera feed before it auto-saved to the cloud.

It shows you on your desk — fully dressed, legs parted just slightly.

Quinn standing between them.

His hand on your jaw.

His mouth on yours.

The kiss is slow. Devastating. Like it’s not the first, and definitely not the last.

He pulls back for a second — and the camera catches his face.

Not angry. Not cocky.

Just ruined.

Like he’s been in love with you for months and finally let it happen.

The clip hits Twitter 24 hours later.

It goes viral in twelve minutes.

“someone PLEASE tell me that’s not Quinn Hughes”

“I know that desk. I know that podcast. I KNOW THAT DESK.”

“The soft lighting? The hoodie? THE WAY HE’S LOOKING AT HER???”

“no sound but I still got pregnant from this”

“she WINS. I don’t know what she won but she WINS.”

PR spirals. Jack leaves a 3-minute voice note screaming. Your producer just texts you: “what if we sold the full footage as an NFT.”

And you?

You don’t say a word.

You just show up to Quinn’s next game wearing his Canucks hoodie — sleeves bunched over your hands, legs bare, hair up, a quiet smile on your lips as you sit behind the bench like you’ve been there forever.

You don’t flinch when the cameras pan to you.

You just sip your iced coffee and wink at him when he skates past.

That night, he pulls you into his lap the second you walk through the door. He holds your face like you’re something fragile. Kisses your shoulder. Kisses your smile.

“Still talking too much,” he murmurs.

“Still fucking obsessed,” you whisper back.

And he doesn’t deny it.

[takiberry]

hai guys chap 6-7 is taking longer than expected:(( im sorry for not updating , work has also been quite hectic, i can try to answer some short hard thoughts if you’d like to send some ( specifically of jo but anyone is perfectly fine as well ) ^__^

[eddiazx]

right person, right time - eddie diaz x reader

Based on this request: hii love could you do a eddie x reader fic on season 6 ep 18 “Pay it forward” it’s one of my fav eps and need a fic based of itt make is as long as you can😭💕💕

Eddie stumbles upon the coffee shop randomly.

He has more than a few minutes until his shift, and he felt compelled to try out the corner café. He hadn't fully eaten breakfast - he had been in a rush to get Chris to school, so the aroma of the coffee shop entices him in.

Once he's in the coffee shop though? He's enamoured by another sight: you.

You're standing off to the side, holding a to-go cup of coffee in your hand. You look up then, meeting Eddie's eyes and smiling.

And damn, was it a smile. It was a smile that jolted his heart, because as much as Eddie denies it, Eddie Diaz is a hopeless romantic who wholeheartedly believes in love at first sight. He was after all, raised on watching telenovelas with his abuela and his tias.

"Sir? What would you like to order?" The girl at the cash register asks, breaking Eddie out of his reverie. He turns to face the cash, opting for a caramel latte, and goes to pull out his wallet from his pocket. The girl shakes her head though. "Don't worry. It's already been paid for by the girl in red."

The girl in red being you. Eddie whips his head back, intending to thank you, but he is instead met with the door closing behind your back as you leave. Eddie couldn't very well leave his coffee and run out after you, so he smiles dejectedly. Maybe another time.

☕️━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☕️

Eddie definitely didn't expect the next time to be when he had broken ribs from a bridge collapsing. He's dirty, tired, and he just wants to go home, but he's hauled into the emergency room. He grits his teeth at the pain as he's helped into a triage bed by Hen and Athena.

"I'm fine!" Eddie lies dismissively, even as he holds his side in a half-hug position. He was better off compared to Chim or Bobby who were affected much harder than he had been, so he didn't think he needed any fussing.

"I'll be the judge of that, sir." He hears a voice say. Eddie looks up to see you.

The girl in red.

Although, now you're wearing navy scrubs, head down as you scan a clipboard quickly. You then lift your head to look at him properly, and you smile.

That same smile from this morning.

"So we meet again." You say, as you use your stethoscope to check his breath sounds.

"Well, you do keep saving me." Eddie says back, with a playful grin.

"Is he seriously flirting with cracked ribs right now?" Athena asks Hen, who laughs and shakes her head as they walk away.

Eddie hopes you didn't hear that, but from the giggle that you let out, he's pretty sure you did.

"Alright, Mr. Diaz. You're going to need a chest x-ray. Take care, and maybe I'll see you again in better circumstances." You say with a smile, and before Eddie can say his goodbyes, he's directed into another room, and you're onto another patient.

☕️━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☕️

Eddie doesn't believe in fate or the universe meddling in his affairs, but he has to admit, seeing you in three different settings within the span of a week doesn't just feel like a coincidence.

He and Chris had walked into the too-full movie theatre, Eddie holding a bag of popcorn and drink for the two of them that cost him an ungodly amount. Eddie isn't paying attention as he settles into his seat, but eventually he spares a glance to the person sitting next to him. You.

You chuckle softly seeing Eddie, murmuring a low, "hi."

"H-hey!" Eddie sputters. "What're you doing here?"

You give him an amused grin, one that says what else would someone be in a theatre for, Eddie, before someone shushes the two of you.

Eddie spends the entire two hours of the movie looking out of the corner of his eye to see how you react to the movie. He almost spills popcorn everywhere when your forearm makes contact with his. When the credits roll, Eddie musters up the courage to finally ask you out.

You smile mischievously before nodding. "You do owe me a coffee."

Eddie Diaz doesn't believe in the universe interfering in his life, but he sure is grateful that he walked into that coffee shop that day.

[digitalgirlguide]

WHY AREN'T YOU DATING YOURSELF TOO?

As I sat sipping my morning coffee, I couldn't help but wonder: why do we often wait for someone else to take us on a romantic date when the perfect partner has been there all along—ourselves?

We get so caught up in chasing love from others we often forget that sometimes that you can give yourself the love you need too.

There’s something soooo empowering about falling in love with your own presence. I mean why wouldn't I want to hangout with myself? I'm amazing, fun and smell good too.

When you take yourself out, you're not just spending time alone— you're setting the standard for yourself everytime you get dressed up and go to that fancy restaurant, everytime you grab your tote bag and favourite runners and go exploring in your city, or even monthly spa visits to pamper yourself. make your solo dates pop so you don't settle for less when it comes to romantic partners and platonic friendships

Physical Solo Date Ideas

Sunset Beach Walk: Slip into your cutest sundress and wander along the beach as the sun sets. You could even pack yourself some of your fave sparkling drinks and some fruits! and everybody always feels better after they spend some time by the water.

Picnic in the Park: Pack a basket with your favorite snacks, a cozy blanket, and a good book. Find a shady spot under a tree 🍓📖

Yoga in the Garden: Roll out your mat in your backyard or a nearby garden. Breathe in the fresh air and stretch your body 🧘‍♀️🌸

Gallery Hopping: Spend an afternoon exploring local art galleries. Take your time admiring each piece and journal about it after 🖼️

Stargazing Night: On a clear night, lay out a blanket in your backyard or a quiet park and look up at the stars ✨

Food Solo Date Ideas

Café Hopping: Spend a day exploring cafés in your city and act like the main character in a sitcom or romcom. My fave thing about cafe's is people watching and making up storylines about people. ☕️

Gourmet Dinner for One: Dress up and take yourself to that fancy restaurant you’ve been eyeing. Put on that dress you've been "saving for a special occasion" and order yourself the whole bottle! 🍷

Baking Adventure: Try out a new baking recipe and create some new sweet treats, whatever you have leftover you can share with your girls 🥮🍪🍰

Farmers’ Market Feast: Visit a local farmers’ market and pick out fresh, seasonal ingredients. Then, head home and cook a delicious, wholesome meal just for you.

Ice Cream Parlor Indulgence: Treat yourself to a visit to an ice cream parlor.

Remember, darling, you're the star of your own show. Every moment spent with yourself is a chance to fall head over heels for the fabulous person you are. So, slip into that cute outfit, step out with all the confidence of a city girl in stilettos, and let the world bask in your glow.

After all, the greatest romance you'll ever have is the one you create within yourself.

[cinnamonsship]

☕️ imagine you and your f/o waking up together, but neither of you are feeling at your best.

maybe one of you had a long, sleepless night full of tossing and turning. maybe it was supposed to be a day off, but life has still decided to throw everything your way, and now free time is spent full of stress and anxiety. maybe one of you is sick, or hungover, and the midday sun that streams through the window only serves to aggravate a pounding headache. maybe it’s just one of those days with no reason at all. whatever the cause, both of you happened to wake up on the wrong side of the bed on this day.

yet despite it, taking care of each other just seems to make your own problems melt away. bringing a coffee or tea to warm up, or gatorade and ibuprofen to nurse the illness/hangover. holding each other as the tears flow during a much-needed cry session. taking a nap together, breathing in the solace and comfort you bring each other and allowing it to lull you both to sleep. ending the day with a shared hot bath or shower, massaging a sweet-scented soap into each other’s most tense and achy muscles. the playing with hair, the stroking of backs, the kissing of foreheads… your problems seem so small knowing that you both can focus on making the other feel better. you give each other the slow day you both deserve, and being able to make a sucky day suck a little less together offers a feeling of relief unlike any other.

and when you wake up the next day, you both feel completely at peace.

🥐 pro/com/neutral dni

[deliciousangelfestival]

bucky barned x depressed reader?!!!!!! ☕️🍪

Of course dear. This request is a perfect match for this continuation. I hope you like it.

Only The Lonely - Rain and Umbrella

Summary: After being saved by Bucky and freed from the debt collectors, you finally managed to get a job with normal working hours. You thought you’d lost your late-night train buddy, but Bucky still visits your place whenever he can.

Everything seemed fine—until you ran into someone from your past. Suddenly, all the feelings you had been holding back came flooding out.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Action, Comedy, Slice Of Life

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Giving what you can, even when you don’t have much, makes you the richest person,” your grandfather would always say. On his birthday, instead of celebrating, he spent the day handing out free food to the homeless. It was his way of teaching you that kindness ripples back in unexpected ways.

That lesson became your compass, even when life pushed you into the shadows. For three long years, you had been hiding—avoiding the gang that chased you, ducking into smaller, quieter corners of existence. Yet, even when you struggled, you gave. Like the day you paid for a mother’s milk at the store with the last of your cash, and somehow, you landed a cashier job at a car workshop that very evening.

And now, giving extra food—a small, unthinking act of kindness—had saved your life. Who would have thought your train buddy was capable of something like this?

After Bucky untied you from the ropes, you stumbled forward, your muscles sore and stiff. His strong hands caught your arm and steadied you without a word. The cold air outside the warehouse hit you hard, but you welcomed it—it was freedom. Around you, the gang members lay crumpled—some groaning, others fainted in various awkward positions.

You turned to Bucky, your breath visible in the freezing air. “How… how can I repay this?” you stammered, still processing everything.

Bucky looked around at the chaos, then back at you, expression unreadable. “You’ve already paid me.”

“What?” you whispered, confused.

He raised a gloved hand and pointed. “Monkey bread—for him,” he said, nodding toward a man sprawled against a crate.

Your eyes widened.

“Beef Wellington,” he continued, motioning to another unconscious man slumped against the hood of a car.

“And Fish and Chips—for him,” Bucky finished, nodding toward a guy dangling limply from a chain.

You blinked, processing his words. Then it hit you—your cooking. That’s what this was about. “Wait… you mean the meals I gave you at the shelter?” you asked incredulously.

Bucky didn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of amusement passed through his blue eyes.

The surreal realization was too much; you let out a soft, shaky laugh, half disbelieving. “So… that’s what you were doing when the lights went out?”

Bucky didn’t answer. Instead, he shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders. You flinched at the weight of it, stunned at the unexpected warmth—both from the jacket and from him.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly, his voice as gentle as the night air.

Since that night, something shifted between you and Bucky. The quiet man who barely spoke a word became a constant presence in your life. You didn’t know how he’d taken down the gang—single-handedly, no less—but he had ended the nightmare that stole your freedom.

Days passed, and slowly, you found pieces of your old life returning. The hotel manager—the one you used to gossip about with Bucky—tracked you down one afternoon. When he saw you, his expression softened, his tone low and warm.

“Life’s been hard on you,” he said, a quiet statement that felt like a hand on your shoulder.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight as you struggled to hold back tears.

He offered you a lifeline: “I have a friend who owns a small café. They’re looking for a barista. I know you’re good with coffee—you’re overqualified, honestly.”

Your breath hitched. A job. A normal job. No more vampire hours. No more hiding.

You smiled weakly, trying to speak past the lump in your throat. “Thank you,” you whispered, barely audible.

But relief came with a bittersweet edge. A job with regular hours—9 a.m. to 4 p.m.—meant no more morning train rides with Bucky. Those quiet, unspoken moments had become a comfort, and losing them stung more than you expected.

When Bucky heard you suggest a visit to your café, he didn’t hesitate. “I’ll stop by after I wake up.”

You paused, curiosity tugging at you. “Wait... what time do you usually sleep?”

“Sleep?” Bucky’s voice trailed off, his expression unreadable. Silence followed as he stared off at nothing. For him, sleep wasn’t a comfort. Resting for three long months in a coma had left its mark—it was enough sleep for a lifetime. Being idle, trapped in a body that couldn’t move, was unbearable. The thought of sleep brought back those suffocating memories, and he avoided it whenever he could.

Instead, Bucky spent his nights on late trains. The rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks calmed him in a way nothing else did. The hum of motion, the gentle swaying, the faint, distant sound of announcements—it was constant, predictable, alive. Trains were his solace. There, in the quiet hum of machinery, Bucky didn’t feel alone.

“Well, aside from that,” you said, snapping him from his thoughts. “Visit my café, and I’ll give you the best sandwich you’ve ever had.” You paused, then remembered his preference. “Oh—come around 2 or 3 p.m. It’s quieter then. Fewer people.”

Bucky nodded, his usual silent agreement. “Alright.”

Since that day, Bucky stopped by your café whenever he could. Most weeks, he visited twice. Your co-workers noticed him immediately, his tall figure and striking demeanor impossible to miss. But none dared to approach him. Bucky had an aura—one that screamed, “Don’t talk to me.”

It had been a few months now, and the rainy season had settled in. One afternoon, the skies opened up. Rain pounded against the café windows, blurring the view outside. Bucky walked in, his clothes slightly damp, as if he’d miscalculated the storm. After finishing his sandwich, he stood to leave, glancing out at the relentless downpour.

“Wait!” You grabbed the bright yellow umbrella sitting near the counter and held it out to him.

Bucky frowned. “Do you have another color?”

You shook your head. “No. Take it.”

He stared at the umbrella, reluctant, almost as if offended by the bright hue. But after a moment, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He took it.

“Bye!” you called as he left, your voice light with amusement.

☕☕☕☕

The next day started like any other. The café was warm and bustling as you worked behind the counter. The hum of the espresso machine, the hiss of steamed milk, and the soft murmur of conversations filled the air. You greeted customers with a smile, moved quickly between orders, and wiped down counters when the rush slowed.

Then you heard your name—spoken softly, yet somehow sharp enough to pierce through the noise.

You looked up, and your stomach dropped. Toby.

Your ex-boyfriend stood there. His face betrayed his shock. “It’s… wow. How? I don’t even know what to say. You’re… you’re here?”

Clearing your throat, you straightened, forcing calm into your voice. “I’m fine. Everything’s been taken care of. What do you want to order?”

Toby blinked, regaining focus. “Just… a regular hot Americano, please.”

“One hot Americano,” you repeated, turning to the machine. He followed your movements, lingering on the other side of the counter.

“You look good,” he said suddenly. His voice was soft, genuine. “I’m glad you’re okay now.”

You glanced at him, just for a moment. And then you saw it. The silver ring glinting on his left hand—fourth finger.

Before you could react, a deafening crack of thunder shook the café. Everyone flinched, covering their ears instinctively. Even Toby winced.

“That’s loud,” he muttered, forcing a smile. “I’m glad I brought an umbrella—just in case.”

“Yes,” you replied stiffly, handing him his coffee. “It’s always smart to prepare for the rain.”

Toby paused, his eyes lingering on you longer than they should have. “It’s good to see you,” he said softly. “And knowing you’re okay… it means a lot.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tight. “Goodbye, Toby.”

He left, the café door swinging shut behind him, the bell jangling softly.

The moment he was gone, everything around you felt distant, unreal. You went numb. Your hands moved on their own—wiping counters, refilling the sugar dispenser—but it was like your body was acting without you.

“I need to step out for a bit,” you mumbled to your coworker.

“Under this heavy rain? Are you serious?” she called, but you didn’t hear her. You were already out the door.

The rain hit you instantly, cold and heavy, soaking through your clothes in seconds. You squinted through the downpour, but you could still see him—Toby—his figure fading as he walked farther away.

Your feet hesitated at first, uncertainty freezing you in place. Should you follow him? But then he turned a corner, disappearing from sight, and something inside you broke.

You ran.

The rain blurred everything—your vision, your surroundings—but you didn’t stop. Water sloshed into your shoes, weighing you down, but you pushed forward. Your heart pounded, a warning deep in your chest. And then you saw him again.

He walked into a small gift shop. You slowed, panting, your chest heaving. Through the rain-slicked windows, you saw her—a woman—walking up to Toby with a smile. She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

CRACK. Another thunderclap shook the sky, louder this time. It felt like the thunder was mocking you.

☕☕☕☕

Back at the café, Bucky stepped inside, shaking water from the yellow umbrella you’d given him. His eyes swept the room quickly. “Where is she?” he asked your coworker.

“She went out. Said she needed to chase something. She didn’t take an umbrella or a jacket.”

Bucky didn’t wait to hear more. He turned and ran back into the rain, the yellow umbrella forgotten in his grip.

The rain was relentless. Bucky scanned the streets, his sharp gaze darting from one figure to the next. He moved quickly, following his instincts. Then he saw you.

You were walking slowly now, soaked to the bone, your shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world had settled there.

Bucky approached you quietly, matching your pace. When he reached you, he didn’t say a word. He simply opened the yellow umbrella above your head, shielding you from the rain.

You blinked, startled. The absence of cold raindrops pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up. Bucky stood beside you, his face calm but unreadable, the umbrella angled to keep you dry.

For a moment, you just stared at him. His blue eyes searched yours, patient, steady—waiting.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough: I’m here.

The rain fell relentlessly, soaking through your clothes, clinging to your skin, but you welcomed it. You wanted the coldness to freeze your thoughts, the heaviness of the downpour to wash away the tears streaming down your cheeks. Maybe, just maybe, the rain could hide how much you were crying. But no amount of cold could numb the ache inside you.

Why did I go after him? you thought bitterly, scolding yourself. Deep down, you knew—you felt—that you shouldn’t have followed him. Your instincts had warned you, whispered that you wouldn’t like what you saw, that you’d be disappointed.

It’s not that you still loved him or had any lingering feelings for him. It was the memories—the life you had before all of this—that you missed. Memories have a cruel way of hurting you, a constant reminder of what’s lost, especially when you know you can’t turn back time or rewrite the past.

The breakup wasn’t filled with anger or betrayal. It had been mutual—an agreement you both made, though it shattered your heart. Toby had been kind, too kind. When the debt collectors started chasing you, hounding your brother’s unpaid loans, Toby had offered to pay it all. But you couldn’t let him. It wasn’t his burden to carry.

The debt collectors—the gangsters—ruined everything. They made your life unbearable, calling Toby’s parents, threatening him and anyone close to you. That’s when you decided it was enough. You ended the relationship to protect him, to free him. Then you ran. You moved across the country, hiding, surviving. You cut ties with friends because even they weren’t safe.

And now, seeing him… seeing him happy with someone else…

You pressed a hand to your chest, as if trying to hold the pieces of your heart together. If my brother had never taken that loan… I wouldn’t have to run. I wouldn’t have to hide. I wouldn’t have to live in constant fear.

The years of silent suffering weighed on you, and the truth surfaced: you’d been depressed all this time. You pushed it down, locked it away, told yourself you were fine because you had no choice but to keep going. But right now, in the middle of the rain, all of those feelings clawed their way to the surface.

Then you heard his voice.

“What can I do to help you?” Bucky’s voice was soft yet steady, cutting through the storm like a lifeline.

You froze. The words hit you harder than you expected. You blinked up at him, rainwater still running down your face like invisible tears.

Those words. That was what you wanted to hear. That was what you had needed for so long. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your arms wrapping tightly around Bucky’s torso.

“Nothing,” you whispered into his chest, your voice shaking. “Just stay.”

The dam broke. Your tears finally came—hot, unrelenting sobs wracking your body. You cried for everything you’d lost, for the years you spent pretending you were okay, for the regrets and burdens you had carried alone.

Bucky stood stiffly at first, his arms slightly raised as if unsure what to do. He was caught off guard. You’d fooled him. He thought you were okay after he’d taken care of the debt collectors—the men who had chased you, terrorized you. He thought his help had freed you. But it hadn’t.

She’s been hiding it, Bucky realized, his jaw tightening. Depressed people were like that—they hid their pain so well that even someone like him couldn’t see it.

Slowly, his arms came down around you, one hand resting lightly on your back, the other shielding your head from the rain. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you as you cried, letting you break down in the safety of his presence.

Bucky brought you back to his place—a small, unassuming apartment that was surprisingly warm. He let you take a hot shower, the steam and heat finally driving the cold from your bones. When you emerged, you were wrapped in one of Bucky’s sweatshirts—soft, oversized, and smelling faintly like leather and soap.

You sat on his couch, knees drawn up, still sniffling quietly. Bucky handed you a small bar of chocolate.

“Mint chocolate?” you asked, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Everyone likes chocolate,” Bucky replied, sitting across from you. He watched you carefully, his gaze softer now.

A long pause settled between you, broken only by the sound of rain tapping on the window. Then Bucky spoke, his tone even, but with an edge of seriousness.

“Do you want me to handle your brother?”

You looked up, confused. “Handle him?”

Bucky’s expression darkened slightly. “He’s the reason you’re living like this. In my line of work, people take responsibility for what they’ve caused. He’s the one responsible. He should pay for it.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Thank you, but…” You hesitated, staring at your hands. “I’ve been looking for him for the past three years. I can’t find him.”

Bucky leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. His voice was calm but firm. “Don’t worry. I’ll find him.”

Your lips parted slightly, taken aback by the certainty in his words. “Jeez, Bucky… how could I ever repay you for all of this?”

Bucky shrugged, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “The coffee, the sandwiches, and that umbrella are enough.”

You huffed a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. For the first time in years, you felt a little lighter.

Bucky sat back, watching you. He didn’t need to say it, but you understood: you weren’t alone.

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One Latte Please?

Part 1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: A man runs into the shop you work at in a rush and all you do it make his coffee, this seems to be a daily occurrence between you too and eventually it turns into something more

Word Count: 1.8k

Notes: I’d been thinking of this one for a while sooo I hope you guys like it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Part 1 || Part 2

☕️ ☕️ ☕️

You hummed as you wiped down a counter, the smell of coffee hitting your nose. You always opened the coffee shop that was on a small corner of Monaco at 7am sharp. Your parents owned it and eventually passed it down to you once they had gotten too old. Your coworker and best friend yawned beside you sipping on her Red Bull as they leaned on your side. “Y/N look! They brought back the Max Red Bull cans!” They squealed shoving the can in your face. You rolled your eyes pushing the can away.

“Bsf/n will you stop shoving things in my face?” You shake your head with a small laugh. Your best friend had been obsessed with this drivers for as long as you could remember but you never really cared much for it yourself. You tried your best to half heartedly listen to the things she said catching onto small things like her favorite driver Max Verstappen but that was about it.

“Ok ok fine I will but will you at least look?” They whined slightly.

“Fine fine I’ll humor you” you rolled your eyes looking at the can, on it was a man with a smile and one fist in the air, at the bottom was a racing car. “It’s cool,” you hummed.

“I know! But they totally took Checo off the can” they huffed with a small frown. “They used to sell them and I only have like a whole pack but still!”

You laughed a bit as she ranted before you sniffed a bit, “Uh- do you smell that?” You asked. They raised an eyebrow “OH SHIT! THE COOKIES!” They screeched, rushing behind the counter to disappear in the back. Just as they ran out a man ran into the shop slightly out of breath and clearly in a rush. His green eyes scattered across the room before the landed on you.

“A latte please?” He asked slowly out of breath.

“Of course!” You smiled quickly getting to work. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the man tapping his foot which eventually swapped to pacing, checking his phone every once in a while. He really must have been in a rush. When you were finished you handed him the cup, a small leaf design decorating the middle. “That’ll be $5.31” you said.

The man frantically pulled some money exchanging it with the coffee “Keep the tip!” He called over his shoulder and he was out of the door just as quickly as he came in.

You stared at the door for a moment before looking at the bill in your hand, which was actually $100. “Wait! Sir I can’t-“ but you knew he was already long gone, the bell jingling at the door as a clarification. You stared at the money in your hand before your friend came back outside.

“The cookies are saved!” They declared proudly.

Huh. That guy looked familiar.

***

The next morning, it was just you, quietly humming to yourself as you iced a small cupcake. The familiar jingle of the door sounded as you smiled, ready for the first customer. “Hi! What can I get you-“ you looked up, only to become face to face with the guy from yesterday. Today he seemed much more tame, put together and definitely not in a rush like the day prior.

A smile graced his features, two noticeable dimples poking out when he saw you. “Can I get whatever you made yesterday? It was delicious.”

You let out a small laugh, “Latte it is then.” you say, picking up a cup to start the order. He was once again the first person in the shop, leaving the silence of each other and the light music to keep you both company. “What had you in a rush yesterday?” You asked, attempting to fill the silence while you worked.

“Oh just a meeting,” the man chuckled, which admittedly had to have been one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard. “I overslept.” He explained, “but the coffee you made did help, it’s got quite a punch” he added.

“Well I’m glad I could be of help,” you poured milk into the drink, crafting a small leaf pattern again. “Would that be here or to go?” You asked, looking over your shoulder.

“To go,” he nodded a bit.

You slipped a top on, setting it on the opposite counter. “That will be $5.31”

He pulled his wallet out, handing you a bill again. “Thank you for the coffee, again Ms….?”

“Y/N” you filled in the blank.

“Y/N..” he echoed, as if he was testing the waters on how to say it. “Ms.Y/N, thank you,” he nodded before spinning on his heel to leave again.

You looked down at the bill in your hand once again seeing a $100. Man. You really had to start checking this guys money before you took it.

***

Like clockwork the next morning the man showed up again. And again. And again. Soon it became a daily routine. You open, he comes in, asks for a latte and the two of you began to chat more and more. Sometimes he’d even help you with your opening duties if he was early enough.

You learned that his name was Charles. He had the most beautiful set of green eyes you’d ever seen. When he laughed he had dimples that poked the sides of his face. When you made him nervous he would fidget with his rings and his chuckle was melodic. He liked ice cream and he grew up in Monaco. His favorite color was red and it was on practically every article of clothing he owned.

He learned that you liked long walks. Had a pet cat, and your favorite color was (f/c). You hated making donuts because they never turned out right for you but you loved to make (favorite/pastry). He somehow learned your favorite drink and would bring it along when he came too.

One morning, as you prepared the shop for another day, Charles arrived even earlier than usual. His entrance was quieter this time, the bell above the door barely audible as he pushed it open.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted, his dimples already on full display. In his hands, he held a small paper bag, a set of flowers and a coffee cup—your favorite drink, as always.

“Good morning, Cha,” you replied, smiling as you wiped your hands on your apron. “You’re early today. Couldn’t wait for your latte?”

He chuckled, setting the bag and cup on the counter. “Something like that. But actually…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit you’d picked up on. “I brought you breakfast. You’re always making food for everyone else. I thought it was time someone made something for you.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, warmth blooming in your chest. “That’s so sweet of you. What is it?”

“Croissants,” he said, his green eyes sparkling. “Homemade. They might not be as good as yours, though.”

“You made these yourself?” you asked, opening the bag to reveal perfectly golden croissants. They looked almost too good to eat.

“Well, my mother might have helped a little,” he admitted sheepishly. “She insists I should know how to cook, just in case.”

You laughed softly, breaking off a small piece of a croissant to taste. It melted in your mouth, buttery and flaky. “This is amazing, Charles. Thank you.” He seemed relieved by your approval, his smile widening. “I’m glad you like it.”

The two of you fell into your usual routine—him helping with small tasks around the shop while you prepared his latte. But today, the air between you felt a little different, a little closer. As you handed him his coffee, a question slipped from your lips.

“What are the flowers for?” You asked curiously, noticing how, he hesitated before speaking.

“Y/N… I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow evening?”

You blinked, surprised. “Tomorrow evening?”

“Yes. There’s a restaurant near where I live,” he explained, his voice a little softer now. “Some of my mates recommended it to me and I thought you might like it”

You felt your cheeks heat up, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you asking me out, Charles?”

He laughed, a little nervously. “Maybe I am. Would that be so bad?”

You pretended to think for a moment, though your heart was already fluttering. “Hmm… I guess I could make time for you.”

“Perfect,” he said, his dimples making another appearance. “I’ll pick you up at six?.”

As he left the shop that morning, the familiar jingle of the bell sounded different, like a promise of something new. You watched him go, your smile lingering long after he’d disappeared down the street.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Your best friend leaned against you as they grinned clocking into their shift.

“So. Who’s the mystery boy you always talk to in the morning?” They teased. “You always have sooooo much to say about them.”

You shake your head. “There’s nothing much…you start hesitantly. “He’s just really sweet and caring. He actually started bringing me little snacks from around Monaco and other places around the globe.” You explained.

“Awwwww!” They squealed. “He totally likes you.” The certainty that came with their voice was unwavering. “Who else would take the time out of their day to come this early in the morning every day to see someone!?Come on, you have to tell me his name! You’ve been hiding it long enough don’t you think?”

“Fine fine, his name is Charles.” You say slowly. “He’s got these beautiful green eyes and messy hair. Whenever he smiles he has these adorable dimples” there’s an airy tone to your voice but the look on your friends face made you stop. “What?” He raise an eyebrow.

“Did…did you happen to get his last name?” They ask slowly.

“Yeah…it’s Leclerc but why does that matter?” You say with a small nervous laugh, setting down the cup you had been washing.

“Do you have ANY idea who that is?!?” Their voice was a low screech but somehow loud enough to still manage to make your ears bleed. “That’s the Charles Leclerc. Y'know, like the Ferrari driver! The PRINCE of Ferrari!” They hissed.

Just then you pulled out your phone quickly googling the name. Your eyes scanned the screen and your jaw dropped in shock when the face of your cafe crush pulled up on the screen.

No wonder why he looked so familiar.