#‘let me steal this moment from you now’

[littlepeach-world]

 Which Boyfriend Calls Back First?

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your friends test your boyfriends' responsiveness with a playful TikTok challenge, and naturally, your devoted boyfriend In-ho is the first to call back.

Warnings: Fluff, Cute!inho, Clingy!Inho, Protective!Inho.

Word count: 1k

You and your four friends—Yuri, May, Chaein, and Hayoung—gather around the dining table, each of you armed with your smartphones. The room buzzes with a mix of excitement and nervous laughter as you all prepare to join the latest TikTok trend: determining which of your boyfriends will respond the fastest to a missed call.

"Okay, ladies, are we ready?" Yuri asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Ready!" everyone chimes in unison.

You steal a glance at your friends, feeling the collective anticipation building up. "Alright, on the count of three: one, two, three!" you call out.

You all dial your respective partners simultaneously and then quickly hang up, creating what’s known as a "flash" call. The five of you place your phones back on the table, the screens facing up, and exchange amused and curious glances, eager to see which boyfriend will react first.

May leans back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smirk. "I bet Mark will call me back first. He's always so quick to respond."

Chaein laughs, shaking her head. "Oh please, Sunoo is definitely the fastest. Just wait and see."

You feel a familiar flutter of excitement as you look at your phone, fully confident in In-ho’s attentiveness. "Well, let’s just see about that," you say, grinning.

"Honestly, In-ho will probably call back first because he's so obsessed with Y/N. I mean, I'm surprised he even let her come out tonight," Yuri jokes with a knowing smile. 

It was no exaggeration; you and In-ho were practically inseparable. He despised being apart from you and would become upset if you were away for even a few hours. Heading out tonight to spend time with your friends had been an uphill battle, as he did everything he could to persuade you to stay with him instead. His unwavering devotion and the way he always wanted to be near you were endearing, adding a touch of romance to your relationship that made your bond even stronger.

Within moments, your phone lights up and starts ringing. The screen displays In-ho's name, and your heart does a little flip. You catch the surprised looks from your friends and can't help but laugh.

"Damn, In-ho’s fast!" Hayoung exclaims, genuinely impressed.

You pick up your phone, feeling a surge of warmth. "Hello?" you answer, trying to suppress a giggle.

"Is everything okay?" In-ho’s voice comes through, filled with concern.

"Everything's fine, love. It was just a little game we were playing," you say, your voice softening.

In-ho is renowned for his authoritative role and his emotionally guarded demeanor, but in moments like these, the depth of his love for you becomes undeniably clear. Despite the demands of his position as the Front Man, where he commands control and garners respect from everyone around him, you are the exception to his rigid exterior. Even amidst his busy schedule, he always ensures to carve out time for you, willing to drop anything at a moment's notice just to be by your side.

The room fills with light-hearted groans and chuckles as your friends mock-complain about losing the lighthearted competition. "Looks like Y/N's the winner," Yuri concedes with a playful pout.

You walk into another room, still on the phone with your love. In-ho's concern is palpable, yet there's a gentle humor in his voice as he says, "I could hear those groans and laughs—sounds lively over there."

"It's definitely lively," you reply, a soft laugh escaping. "We're just caught up in a silly game right now. But everything's all good, nothing to worry about."

There’s a brief pause, and you can imagine him thoughtfully staring into the distance, just as he often does.

"Are you having fun?" he asks, his tone lightening.

You smile, "Yeah, it's a lot of fun. We're all really into these goofy challenges."

"Good," In-ho replies, a warm undertone in his voice. "Do you need me to pick up anything from the store before you come back home?"

You think for a moment and then smile. "Actually, could you grab some snacks for later? You know, our usuals."

"Consider it done," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Anything else?"

"No, that should be it. Thanks, love," you say, feeling grateful for his thoughtfulness. "Just get yourself home safely."

"I will," he promises. "I miss you."

Your heart swells at his simple admission. "I miss you too," you reply softly. "I'll see you soon."

As you hang up, your thoughts wander to the unique dynamic of your relationship with In-ho. You know that most people would probably find having a clingy, overprotective boyfriend suffocating or annoying. They might complain about the constant check-ins or the way he always wants to know you're safe. But for you, it's different. His attentiveness and concern are like a warm blanket on a cold night—they wrap you in a sense of comfort and security that you've come to cherish deeply.

You love how every call, every message from him is a small reminder that you are loved and valued. In a world that often feels chaotic and unpredictable, his protective nature provides a reassuring constant. In-ho has a way of making you feel like you are the most important person in his world, and it's a feeling you wouldn't trade for anything.

Your mind drifts back to a conversation you had with him not long ago. He had confessed that he had never been this way with anyone before. "I've never felt the need to be so protective," he had admitted, his voice soft but sincere. "But with you, I just want to make sure you're always okay."

His words had struck a chord deep within you. Knowing that his behavior wasn't a default setting but something unique to your relationship made you appreciate it even more. It was as if you had unlocked a part of him that had remained hidden until you came into his life.

Rejoining your friends, you can't help but smile, the warmth of In-ho's recent call lingering like a tender embrace. The noise and laughter around you feel a bit more vibrant, the evening a bit more enjoyable, all because of the love and devotion you know is waiting for you at home.

[crookedteethed]

ᥫ᭡. that time you got period blood in rafe's bed.

warnings: nothing but fluff and that time of the month shenanigans

a/n: brain wouldn't shut up tonight, so here's some soft rafe cameron for you girlies. 🤍

You wake up to that familiar cramping sensation and immediately know.

Your eyes snap open in horror, taking in the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets beneath you – Rafe's sheets. Rafe's very white, very expensive sheets that now have a very obvious stain.

"Shit," you whisper, mortification flooding your system as you try to quietly extract yourself from his arms without waking him.

"Mmm, where are you going." His sleep-rough voice catches you mid-escape attempt. Before you can stop him, he's pulling you back against his chest, nuzzling into your neck.

"Rafe, no – I need to—" But it's too late. You feel the exact moment he realizes, his body stilling behind you.

"I'm so sorry," you start rambling, trying to wiggle free. "I know how expensive these sheets are. I'll replace them, I swear—"

"Hey." His voice has that edge to it, the one that means you're being ridiculous. "Look at me."

You shake your head, face burning. "I ruined your sheets."

"Baby girl." There's amusement in his voice now. "You really think I give a fuck about some sheets?" His lips find your temple. "You hurting?"

The gentle question beneath his usual rough exterior makes your chest tight. You nod slightly.

"Alright, here's what's happening." It's his business voice, the one that means no arguments. "You're gonna take a hot shower, steal whatever you want from my closet, and I'm grabbing you some aspirin." He pauses. "And those chocolate strawberries in the fridge? Yeah, those weren't for tomorrow's country club bullshit."

You look up at him, surprised. "You knew?"

The corner of his mouth quirks up. "Princess, you really think I don't have your cycle tracked? Who do you think keeps restocking the tampons under my sink?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he'd be smug about being thoughtful. Your heart then does that stupid flutter thing it always does when he shows he actually pays attention.

Later, curled up on his ridiculously expensive couch, wearing his softest hoodie, you watch him navigate your heating pad with intense focus. The chocolate strawberries are perfect, and every time a cramp hits, his hand finds your lower back like it's instinct.

"Better?" he murmurs against your hair.

"Mmm." You sink further into him. "Still sorry about the sheets though."

He snorts. "Baby, I could buy new sheets every day for the next decade and not dent my wallet." His arms tighten possessively. "Now shut up about the sheets and eat your chocolate."

You turn to look at him, this man who tracks your period in his phone but would probably murder anyone who knew about it. This version of Rafe Cameron – the one who handles period stains and midnight cramps with the same intensity he handles everything else – is just for you.

"I love you," you whisper.

"Yeah?" That signature smirk plays at his lips. "Prove it by stopping this guilt shit about my sheets."

But his kiss is gentle, and when another cramp hits, his hands are already there, steady and sure.

What Figure Eight would never believe: how the infamous Rafe Cameron keeps tampons in his bathroom and period tracking apps on his phone.

But that's okay – let them have their trust fund tyrant. This softer version is yours alone.

[ozzgin]

Ozzgin more than ever I really need a hacker yandere out to fight injustice done against me. Because why was my bank account hacked and someone tried it ed to steal 500$ bucks from me. Luckily I was able to lock my card and my bank is sending me a new one but I'm so so anxious at this point 😭

Yandere hacker would never let some twerps swindle me for my money like this(I'm sure they're a bunch of kids since the person tried to buy cs go ). He cares deeply for my digital footprints.

Oof, sorry it happened to you, pookie. Though I doubt a yandere would help you out of the goodness of his heart... content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, manipulation, stalking

Yandere!Hacker always makes sure that your digital presence remains untouched. Through some sheer luck or unknown forces, you've never had to deal with any kind of online misfortune. You'll offer your friends a sympathetic smile whenever they bemoan the persistence of some internet pervert, but you've been spared of such predatory approaches.

You'd almost be tempted to believe that these said malicious attacks are mere myths meant to scare the unseasoned traveler. You've never been hacked, never been scammed, never had your data or photos stolen from anywhere. Maybe you're just particularly careful, you tell yourself.

In reality, you've been under the watchful gaze of your online stalker. He dutifully keeps track of every move and every click you make. If someone were to save one of your photos for later purposes, for example, he'd immediately track them down and make sure they can never access a computer again.

Yandere!Hacker doesn't protect you out of pure, selfless intentions, however. When it comes to invading your privacy, he's a meticulous sleuth constantly outdoing himself. It's just, you see, no one else should have this kind of control over you. From the moment he stumbled upon your profile, he knew you'd be his. Thus, he can't allow anyone else to interfere with his grand adoration.

Your dating apps always fail to show you any matches, your flirty messages from suitors never arrive. He'll watch through the webcam he's hacked into as you sigh, disappointed, from yet another case of being ghosted. Oh, sweet, darling (Y/N), give him a little more time.

Yandere!Hacker isn't quite satisfied with watching you from afar. While it certainly is endearing to observe you in your raw, innocent obliviousness, while he frequently touches himself to the exhilaration of voyeurism, being a passive bystander can become exceptionally boring. He often wonders if your skin is as soft as it looks, or if you smell as sweet as he likes to imagine.

"This can't be..."

Tears well in your eyes as you stare, helpless, at the notification: your bank account has been drained. Someone must've emptied it, and - as a consequence - you are now utterly penniless. Just as another sob escapes your mouth, your screen lights up with a new message. An acquaintance you don't remember too well.

"Is everything alright with you, (Y/N)? I just wanted to remind you that you can always count on me for anything. I mean it."

He leans back in his chair with a grin. Now he waits. You're desperate enough that it shouldn't require much convincing for you to move in with him. Of course you can have his spare room. No, he truly doesn't need anything in return. You're his dear friend, and he's at your service.

You can always rely on him.

[More Yandere Stories]

[vmlnrzmp4]

𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

no cw, just domestic bliss<3 for reference, she's making kheer: a famous south asian dessert. you can call it a pudding. this is me y'all. i think the "banned from kitchen" girlies deserve representation. without further ado, enjoy<3

itoshi sae

"it stings...!" you mumble a complain as sae applies the burn-cream to your thumb and index finger. he calls you a dumbass for even stepping into the kitchen.

"sae," you call softly trying to gain his attention. he ignores, too busy tending your wounds. "sae," you call again. and after a long pause, he hums.

"what?"

"can you atleast taste what i made?"

he looks up at you, blowing air from his mouth to your booboo, the coolness easing the pain a little. "you sure it's not poison?"

"no promises."

he stares at you for a moment. sighing, he reaches for the spoon, taking a bit—just a little bite, "what did you put in this?" he asks, "is this supposed to be salty?"

oh the horror! "what?"

"it's salty."

you take the spoon from him, tasting it too, gagging at the bitterness. "i may or may not have added salt instead of sugar."

"you," he snaps his finger at you, "stay out of the kitchen."

itoshi rin

"hot hot hot!" you say, the burning spoonful of kheer still in your mouth.

"here," rin quickly passes you a bottle of cold water as you wash it down, "don't choke on it." his brows furrow, "is this supposed to be that watery and oily?"

"it's not oil. i used ghee," you say, showing him the container, "it's butter. but fancier." he examines it in his hand, reading the label and notes. you take another gulp of the cold water, "my tongue feels numb now."

he takes a spoonful, seeing how it runs down from the sides like water, "what were you trying to do?"

you sigh. big big sigh as you ramble, "i tried making this. i know i shouldn't even step into the kitchen but, i just felt like yes i can do it like it's the easiest thing i can make cause my cousin made it back in india and she sent me a picture of it and it looked so simple and i—"

"it's fine," he cuts you off, "leave it to me next time."

isagi yoichi

"here you go," you say, placing the bowl in front of him, along with a spoon and a forced smile.

he chuckles nervously, taking the spoon from you, "is this...soup?"

"no!" you correct, "it's kheer, even fancier!"

he hums, taking in a spoonful while you wait expectantly.

he coughs. loudly.

looking up at you he sees the horror in your eyes—he feels guilty as he sees the messy apron, hair that was messily put up in a bun and a little something on your cheek too—you worked hard on it.

"it's...not bad."

you let out the most heart wrenching sigh, "it's ok yo-chan," you plop yourself beside him, your forehead bangs on the table, "you don't need to lie."

"oh y/n..." he reaches for you, soothing your forehead that you just abused on the table, "it's not bad, really. it's just...a little too sweet for my liking. maybe we can fix it together?"

you look at him with puppy-dog eyes, yet fully of hope, "together?"

"together."

michael kaiser

the first thing kaiser does is plant a sweet peck on your cheek as he enters the kitchen, pointing at the apron you wore that says kiss the chef.

"what's cooking?"

you simply point at the cook-book that was open. he raises an eyebrow, then adjusts the glasses resting on his forehead, pushing them down to eye level as he inspects the recipe.

"aaaand all done!" you say happily. but the horror in kaiser's eyes when you were pouring the kheer into a bowl—it was like you were a maniac mixing chemicals to feed the lab rats.

"here," you hand him the spoon, "mihya, i want you to be the first one to try it."

he gulps in fear, "if that's what you want angel..."

aftermath.

he wouldn't stop laughing at you and your poor attempt to stealing a chef's job.

"i'm sorry—" he laughs, "—i'm sorry," more laugher.

"i get it. i can't cook. and i apologize for even thinking i would get appreciated. even if it's a little."

his laughter dies down slowly—still smirking as he hugs you from behind, "hey, i appreciate you loads. even if you made the most disastrous dish imaginable," he pecks your temple, "it's the thought that matters."

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Eleven

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Series masterlist

Charles wasn't jealous the first time you spoke to Max. But he had been waiting patiently for his turn. You were expressive, more now that you didn't have a muzzle. Watching you grow, come out of your shell, had been amazing. You were smiling at your fellow drivers, making an effort. 

All Charles wanted from you after that was to speak. He wasn't going to push you. That was the absolute last thing he wanted. He could picture it now, pushing you too far and having you retreat into yourself. 

Inviting you to Monaco wasn't about getting you to speak. It had been a bad race, and you needed this. At least, he thought you did. You had been having fun on the jet, giggling against Max's side as he got a little drunk. 

That was why Charles had driven the three of you back to their building. Dropping your handler off at some random hotel in Monaco (Charles was paying for the room) was the absolute highlight of his day. 

You willingly went wherever they took you. Trust Max and Charles had earned. As soon as you followed Charles inside, your eyes were wide with wonder as you took everything in. You missed the way he pulled Max close for the first time in days and kissed him, licking the taste of his early morning Red Bull from his lips. Disgusting stuff, but Charles would happily taste it from Max. 

When he started playing the piano, you began to dance. Charles watched your outline in the reflection of the polished wood. It was as if you didn't even know you were doing it, swaying gently. He couldn't see the way your eyes were beginning to fall shut, letting the music take hold. 

But then Max shouted. "Shut up, Charlie!" 

And Charles obeyed, stopping his playing. You stopped too, the look of disappointment on your features not going unnoticed. Charles didn't expect you to surge forward, though. He didn't expect you to join him by the piano, looking ready to play. 

"I liked it." 

Three little words. The three sweetest words Charles had ever heard. 

You wanted him to play more, so he did. His fingers began dancing across the keys, a tune filling his Monaco apartment. 

You stood from the bench and let yourself dance. No small movements, doing whatever your body told you. You moved to the music, enjoying every moment of it.

Leaving his crushed can of red bull on the counter, Max strode towards you. He took your hand, interrupting your dancing, and moved you around. He spun you and twirled you and everything else, moving with you. 

You were far more elegant than her, your every movement natural compared to his. This was what you were meant to he doing, Charles realised. 

He played until you stopped dancing, until you sat down, chest rising and falling and your arm resting on your stomach. Max's smile was wide as he sat beside you, arm around the back of the sofa. "Happy?" He asked a little breathlessly. 

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from moving closer. That was so much fun, and you didn't know how to express it. Wrapping your arms around him, you laid your head on his chest and looked up into his pretty eyes.

Why couldn't a team have three drivers? You, Max and Charles in the same garage, spending free moments before racing together. Or Max and Charles on the same team while you watched the both of them. Yeah, that felt right. Not part of the action, but able to watch it. 

Who would you be, though? You wouldn't be a driver, you'd be something else entirely. You weren't sure what, but you would be happy. 

Charles watched the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, content to just sit there. You didn't steal a kiss, didn't do anything but lay against him. 

A groan left Max's lips as he looked towards the clock. "I should head to my place," he muttered, sounding as if he didn't really want to leave. 

You whined, your hands slipping down to his chest. You held his shirt, looking moments away from climbing into his lap. "Sorry, Birdy," he whispered and pouted at you. "But I gotta get on stream." But then he smiled and you realised he was mocking you. He wasn't being nasty, you knew immediately. 

Charles stood up. He walked across the room and laid his warm hand on your shoulder. "Come on, Birdy Girl," he said and pulled you to his feet. "We can walk him to the door." 

You trudged through the apartment, following Max and Charles to the door. He didn't have to come here, you reminded yourself. He did this to spend time with you and Charles. 

"Should we take our girl out tomorrow?" Charles asked as he stood behind you, both hands on your shoulders. 

They both looked down at you, as if waiting for you to say something. You didn't have to, you knew. This whole talking thing would take some getting used to. 

Finally, Charles looked away from you. He released a hum and Max met his gaze. 

For a moment, they stared at each other. Could they take it any further with you between them. There was no telling how you would react, pressed between them while...

But what if your reaction wasn't bad? What if you liked it?

Charles made the first move. He leaned over you and pressed a kiss to Max's lips. It was short and sweet and gentle, but whine was still pulled from your lips. 

Max grinned as he looked down at you. "You want some, Birdy?" He asked. 

Swallowing, you nodded. 

That was the first time you kissed Max Verstappen. He moved slowly, almost as if you were a spooked animal. His blue eyes searched your face, looking for any reason to stop. But your eyes were pleading, desperate.

His hands cradled your face, held your cheeks. You didn't bite him, didn't make any move like you felt threatened. He leaned in and you held your breath. 

Close enough to touch, but still holding back. "You ready, Birdy?" He whispered and you nodded. 

He kissed you, pressed his freckled lips against your own. A squeak left your lips, entire body tensing. You didn't know what to do, how to move with him. But Max was slow and gentle, every movement encouraging you. 

When you finally kissed back, his whole world lit up. 

He pulled away and you chased after him, already missing the feeling of his lips against your own. "Good Birdy," he whispered and let go of you. 

Your first kiss and it was with Max Verstappen.

You whimpered at the loss of contact, but Charles pulled you into his side. "Don't worry, Birdy Girl," he whispered and kissed the top of your head. "We'll see him tomorrow." 

Max picked up his bags. He started towards the door, leaving the two of you behind. 

"No!" 

You ran forward and wrapped your arms around him. "You can't go," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his back. You squeezed your arms around him, Max's fingers resting over yours. 

A sigh left Charles's lips. He wasn't annoyed, not in the slightest. You were damn adorable, with no control over your emotions. Too sweet for your own good. 

"Would you like to stay the night, Max?”

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heyyy so the taglist is full - if i could tag everybody that wanted to be tagged, i would but tumnlr says no

[wendichester]

˚ ༘ ୭ ˚. prankd!

summary. dean really doesn't like when someone touches the impala.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 643

You’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to pull this off, and today is the day. Dean’s holed up, deep into research mode with Sam, which gives you enough time to put your plan into action. You’ve hidden Baby—Dean’s pride and joy—in the safest spot you could think of: a secluded spot a couple of miles from Bobby’s old garage, tucked under a tarp.

By the time Dean emerges from the bunker, you’re leaning on the hood of your car, trying to look casual as you sip your beer.

Dean steps out, his green eyes scanning the parking lot. “Where’s Baby?”

You shrug, keeping your expression neutral. “What do you mean?”

Dean frowns, his gaze snapping back to the empty space where the Impala usually sits. “She’s not there.”

Sam appears behind him, looking up from his phone. “What’s going on?”

“Baby’s gone,” Dean says, his voice tinged with a mixture of panic and anger.

Sam blinks, clearly trying to process the information. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“She’s not here!” Dean growls, his hands flying up in frustration. He spins to face you, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Why would I know anything? Maybe you misplaced her.”

Dean’s jaw drops, and he looks genuinely offended. “Misplaced? I don’t misplace Baby.”

“Well, she’s not here, so…” you say, trailing off with a shrug. The small glint in the glare you give him should be the indicator that you're the culprit, but Dean's too much in his head to even notice.

Dean paces the lot, running a hand through his hair. “Who the hell steals a car out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

Sam folds his arms, smirking slightly as he glances at you. “Dean, maybe you should calm down.”

“Calm down?” Dean snaps. “Sam, my car’s missing!”

“Dean, it’s just a car,” you tease, unable to resist poking the bear a little.

Dean freezes, slowly turning to face you. “Just a car?” His voice is low, dangerous.

You bite back a laugh, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, don’t have a coronary.”

“Oh, you little minx... Where is she?” Dean demands, stepping closer, his green eyes boring into yours.

You finally let the grin break through, unable to hold it back any longer. “The care is safe, Dean. I just moved it.” His eye almost twists as you call Baby it.

Dean stares at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he growls, “You what?”

“I moved her,” you repeat, pushing off your car. “She’s fine. I even covered her with a tarp so she wouldn’t get dusty.”

“You’re kidding me,” Dean mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Payback?” you offer, smiling sweetly.

Dean shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he heads for your car. “Show me where she is. Now.”

The drive is filled with Dean grumbling about how you’ve got a death wish and Sam laughing in the backseat, clearly enjoying the show. When you finally pull up to the hidden spot, Dean bolts out of the car before you’ve even come to a full stop.

He whips the tarp off the Impala and sighs in relief, running his hand along her glossy black paint. “Baby, I missed you,” he murmurs.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “See? She’s fine.”

Dean glares at you, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You just wait,”

“I'm shaking” you tease, stepping closer.

Dean smirks, grabbing your waist and pulling you into him. “You're lucky I like you,”

You grin, leaning up closer. “Admit it, I got you good.”

Dean huffs, shaking his head. “Fine, you got me. But you’re never touching Baby again.”

“Deal,” you say, your smile wide.

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[imujings]

hoshi + work song by hozier? :)

when i was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet in the low lamp light i was free

wc <1k. warnings FLUFF!!!, suggestive (they make out at the end. sorry. i’m normal), lots of kissing, hella praise (someone needs to tell soonyoung he’s doing good RIGHT NOW!!). jay’s musings i am so weak for soft sy + this song makes me go ABSOLUTELY FERAL .°(ಗдಗ。)°. you are so right anon. speak ur truth

The lighting in the room is dim, cozy. It’s well into the morning, sunlight streaming faintly through the curtained windows and finding home atop your bedsheets.

You press a long, soft kiss to Soonyoung’s bare shoulder. He’s been murmuring in his sleep for quite awhile now, shifting around like he’s trying to escape some paranormal entity unbeknownst to you. Your fingers inch under the covers and find his.

“Love,” you hum into his skin.

The man shivers at your touch, jolting awake with a gasp. His hair sticks up in all kinds of directions, unkempt from sleep, and you smooth a hand through it. Soonyoung leans into your fingers with an achingly gentle sigh.

“Nightmare again?” you tilt your head in a question.

He nods, eyes fluttering shut when you run a thumb across his cheek. You trace the knot in his eyebrows with your gaze, all the way down to the slope of his collarbone, exposed and vulnerable.

“I can’t remember much of it now,” Soonyoung confesses. “But it felt like I had this big weight on my shoulders—metaphorically, that is. There was so much guilt it was overwhelming. Like I couldn’t breathe, almost. I was in front of you, and you were looking at me, waiting for me to speak, and… I remember feeling terrified. Of what you would think of me if I told you about what I did.”

While you’re listening, your thumb on his cheek never pauses in its soft, methodical swipes along his skin. The barren sunlight leaves him dappled in a honeying glow.

Your heartbeat pounds loud in your ears, your mind taking action to bring his attention to just how much you yearn for him through a steady rhythm of love—if for nothing else but to soothe his worries.

To reiterate your thoughts, you pull him in, letting your arms lay loose around his neck. Your foreheads rest against the other’s.

“Soonyoung,” you whisper, lips brushing his.

His eyes flicker between your soft, melting gaze and the way your mouth curls to enunciate his name. His own lips are parted, waiting, and you’re eager to give, dipping in to steal a kiss.

“You could never,” you kiss him again and he chases your lips. “Never, ever ever, even try to get me to hate you.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Soonyoung says brokenly. “How could you say that?”

Another kiss—one that’s unhurried, searing with want. Your lips travel to the corner of his mouth and down to his jawline. He whimpers at your nibbling.

“You act as if we are made to be perfect,” is your hushed reply, pressing an open-mouth kiss to underside of his jaw. “You’re talking as if being loved and being perfect are synonyms. As if they mean the same thing.”

“In reality, they simply coexist together. Their relationship is more of a simultaneous thing; you are loved, and at the same time, you are perfect just the way you are. Did you know, I love you? I love you, in your entirety—all your sins, all your fears. I love you because they make you, you. Your hatred, your pain, your burdens—are they not just feelings that coexist with the love inside of you? I love you because you are whole and filled with emotions. I love you because you are love.”

There’s a pause, and you draw your face back up to his level again. Soonyoung is staring at you, eyes glassy and lips wobbling.

You’re wondering if you’ve gone too far with your nonsensical ramblings when he kisses you, and all air is knocked out of your lungs.

“Thank you,” he sobs, and you taste the saltiness of his tears as his lips press against yours, frantic, needy.

His hands are in a frenzy, gripping your bare skin like you’ll disappear at any moment. You whine at his touch, passion overtaking you as your fingers wrap themselves in his locks of hair. The man moans when you tug, and the noise sounds so melodic it has you tearing up yourself.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Soonyoung murmurs; you can’t tell what tears belong to who anymore, but you don’t think it matters when you’re this tangled up in each other.

“You are love, too. My love. You are my freedom—my life, my eternity. Thank you.”

wanna queue a song?

[aashiqeddiediaz]

of biting goodbyes

she's back with ill-advised tragic i-don't-want-you-to-go sex and angsty feels.

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Rating: E

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 5,524 words

Snippet:

“Buck.” Eddie reaches up to cup his face, tilting their heads back so he can look Buck in the eye, his gaze unguarded for the first time since Eddie told him he was moving to El Paso. He doesn’t like the despair that lives there, but he knows that it’s the same one that lives in his chest right now, the same serrated feeling that’s been tearing him apart since the day Christopher walked out the door. Somehow, this feels like acid on a wound that refuses to heal. He reads the desire in Buck’s eyes, the desperation that lives there. He sees the way Buck’s eyes track all over the walls in the same way Eddie’s had been doing only minutes ago. And he realizes that Buck feels the same way he does. That maybe they’re together in this, too — realizing when it’s far too late to do anything significant about it. But then—  Buck tilts his head, moving closer like he’s about to kiss Eddie, and Eddie tightens his grip on his face, his brow creasing. “Buck, we can’t,” Eddie says quietly, his thumb circling the bolt of his best friend’s jaw. Buck’s cheek jumps against his fingertips when he grits his teeth, but Eddie doesn’t let up with the soothing movements, fingers tracing and memorizing the planes of his face. “Give me this. Just once,” Buck pleads, his eyes falling shut for a brief second as he pulls Eddie in closer. “Please, Eddie, please .” He knows what Buck wants. He knows the absolute fucking irony of both of them being on the same page at this moment, less than 12 hours before Eddie gets on a plane to leave his life behind. He knows this is a bad idea. He knows that there will be nothing left of him once he gives in to Buck. Knows that this is a step they will never come back from. “You’ll hate me tomorrow, Buck,” Eddie whispers, leaning up to press his mouth to the birthmark that steals his attention 90% of the time.

[Read on AO3]

[willowsnook]

sweet sister (18+)

You can make one with Lance x Ocon reader. She is Esteban's sister but she never participated much in the races and which she was Lance didn't pay much attention to her. But now he is newly single is invited to Esteban's birthday and finds her and ends up rolling a mood. Then they have a relationship hidden from the media and families but being discovered later, some interaction of Lance and Esteban being brothers-in-law!!

Lance stroll x ocon!sister

—----------------------------------------------------------

“Happy birthday, Estie,” you cheered as you found your brother talking with Flavy in his kitchen, with a drink in his hand. 

“Thanks sis,” Esteban replied warmly. He was hosting a small party at his Swiss apartment to celebrate and you were happy to finally get time off of work to make the trip this weekend. You had thrown on a casual fit with an oversized cardigan in your favorite shade of blue and were ready to let off a little steam. 

“Come on Flavy,” you said, pulling your brother’s girlfriend away to the outdoor patio area. She giggled as you dragged her, and the cool air had you clutching your outer layer when you finally made it. 

“So what’s new?” She asked, sinking down on one of the outdoor couches, resting her feet on the patio table. You joined her, not letting go of your glass of wine. 

“Not a lot. Work is boring, but there is a chance that I’ll get to start being remote,” you said excitedly. You were a data analyst and while you enjoyed being in the office, you wanted to live the nomad traveling life while you were young. So being able to be remote would be perfect. 

“Wait does that mean you’ll come to more races,” she asked, her eyes wide. She squealed as you nodded. “Thank god, I’ve been so bored.”

“You hang out with Kika, though right?” You asked.

“Yeah, but she’s been hanging around with Alex more which is fine, but then I get lonely. And now that Lance and Marilou broke up, there really isn’t anyone else I’m friends with.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that,” you said. “A couple of months ago right?” 

“Yeah,” she said giving you a teasing look. “Trying to swoop in?” 

“Esteban would kill me,” you muttered with a small laugh. 

You didn’t even know Lance that well, but something about him intrigued you. By the time him and Esteban had gotten close you were already in college so you weren’t even 100% sure if he remembered who you were. 

“He’s nice,” Flavy said thoughtfully. “I think he gets a bad rep because of who he is but he’s always been a sweetheart to me.” 

“Didn’t he cheat on Marilou, though,” you asked, thinking back to the gossip account’s post you had seen. 

“I don’t think so,” she answered. “To my knowledge, they had been broken up a while before the media knew so the girl they referenced was post-break.” 

“Ahh,” you said. Turning your head to look back inside you saw the man himself, talking to your brother and some others in the living room. Dressed in all black he managed to look casual but still put together. 

As you watched Lance through the glass doors, he suddenly looked up and caught your gaze. For a moment, your eyes locked, and you felt a flutter in your stomach. You quickly looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Ooh, someone's blushing," Flavy teased, nudging you with her elbow.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a large sip of your wine.

Just then, the sliding door opened, and Esteban stepped out onto the patio. "Hey, stop hiding out here and come join the party.” 

You and Flavy exchanged a glance before standing up. As you followed your brother back inside, you couldn't help but steal another look at Lance. To your surprise, he was still watching you, a small smile playing on his lips.

Throughout the evening, you found yourself gravitating towards Lance. You chatted with some of Esteban’s old friends and eventually found yourself beside him. 

“It’s been a while,” he said, breaking the ice between you. His eyes lingered on your body before he brought them back up to your eyes, a small smirk on his face. 

“It has,” you agreed, trying to act casual. “Tough season so far?”

“Already busting my balls?” He snorted, leaning back against the wall. 

“Someone has to,” you teased. As nervous as you were to talk to him, it all seemed to melt away now that you finally were. “You aren’t in the bottom five of the grid though, so I guess that’s a good sign.”

“Only a matter of time,” he mumbled, and you caught a flash of dejection on his face that he tried to brush off. 

“The car or you?” You asked gently. Having been around your brother’s racing career, you knew that was usually what it boiled down to. 

“A little bit of both,” he admitted. “The car isn’t great which is resulting in me not being confident which makes for easy mistakes.” 

You nodded sympathetically. "That must be frustrating. I'm sure you'll find your groove again soon, though."

Lance gave you a small smile, his eyes softening. "Thanks. It's nice to talk to someone who gets it."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "Well, I've been around racing my whole life. It's hard not to pick up on a few things."

"Thanks, that means a lot. You know, I always wondered why we never really got to know each other before."

"Probably because I was always busy with school when you and Esteban started hanging out," you replied, suddenly very aware of how close you were. “I’m surprised you recognized me.” 

"Well, I'm glad I did," Lance said, his voice lowering slightly as he leaned in closer.

Your breath caught in your throat at his proximity. You could smell his cologne, a subtle but intoxicating woodsy scent. You were too caught up in his intense stare to see your brother coming towards you.

“Hey guys,” he said, shooting Lance a warning look. You instantly stood back and blushed, looking anywhere but the man before you. “Flavy and I are hungry, you in for late-night dinner?”

Looking around, you realized that everyone had filtered out. Lance agreed to food and you found yourself nodding along as well. The four of you called a ride to a nearby restaurant that Lance had called, asking them to stay open. Esteban sat in the front with the rest of you in the back; you being in the middle meant you were pushed alongside Lance, making you flush. 

Pulling up to the spot, he got out and held his hand out for you to help. His big hand enveloped yours and he held on for an extra couple of seconds before you shot him a curious look. 

Late night dinner was a great move, and conversation flowed as the four of you enjoyed being the only ones there. You had missed your brother a lot. A couple of hours later you were dead and watched as Esteban and Flavy got into a car back to his place. You were staying in a hotel, so Lance insisted on waiting for your car with you, to make sure you were safe. 

“Are we going to go another few years without seeing each other?” He asked and you smiled. 

“I hope not,” you said. “I’m going to try to be in Austin.” 

“That would be good, I can get you an Aston garage pass,” he said. 

“Not sure how Esteban would feel about that,” you teased. 

Lance chuckled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "What Esteban doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

You bit your lip, considering his offer. "I suppose one little garage tour wouldn't hurt..."

"Exactly," Lance said, taking a step closer to you. The streetlight cast a warm glow on his face, accentuating his strong jawline. "And maybe we could grab dinner after the race?"

Your heart raced at the suggestion. "Lance Stroll, are you asking me out on a date?"

He grinned, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I am. What do you say?"

Before you could answer, your ride pulled up to the curb. Lance opened the car door for you, ever the gentleman.

"I'll think about it," you said with a coy smile as you slid into the backseat. 

As the car pulled away, you couldn't help but look back at Lance, who was still standing there, watching you go. You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness about what might happen next.

—---------austin gp—--------------------

This was your first time in Austin and you loved the southern culture. You insisted on buying three different pairs of cowboy boots when you came. You knew people didn’t really dress like this all the time here, but it was fun. 

It was warm on race day so you chose a lighter-weight dress paired with the favorite boots you had bought. Flavy matched you in a cream dress and you both fit right in with everyone else in the paddock. Lance was talking to Esteban after the drivers parade and you blushed under his gaze; he clearly was a fan. Esteban was too infatuated with Flavy to notice. 

“Embracing the cowgirl lifestyle,” Lance teased as you reached him. You did a little twirl for him, smiling widely. 

“Yeah, do you like it?” You asked innocently, already knowing the answer. 

“A lot,” he said simply. 

One of the Aston Martin media girls was nearby, holding a cowboy hat that seemed ot be for Lance. You reached out your hand and she gave it to you so that you could place it on his head. 

“There,” you said, breathless from the lack of distance. “Now we match.” 

Lance's eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hand coming up to adjust the hat. "I like matching with you," he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but Esteban called out to you before you could respond. "Hey sis, come here for a sec!"

Reluctantly, you stepped away from Lance, shooting him an apologetic smile. You could feel Lance's eyes following you as you walked towards your brother.

The race was intense, and neither your brother or Lance put on much of an impressive performance. Lance texted you when he had his phone again, asking to meet up for dinner in a bit, which you agreed to. 

“Are you coming out with us?” Esteban asked, and you faked a yawn, looking at him apologetically. 

“I’m honestly beat; I’ll probably just get room service and call it a night,” you lied. He nodded in understanding before hugging you goodbye and leaving with Flavy. You felt terrible lying to your brother but you wanted to enjoy whatever was going on between you and Lance just the two of you for now. 

You changed into comfier clothes and took off your makeup right as Lance knocked on your door. 

“Still want just to do room service?” He asked. You nodded, waving him in. 

“Yeah, I honestly am tired,” you said. 

“Good, me too,” he agreed. You let your eyes drop to his shirt that was tightly clung to his torso before meeting his smirking gaze. 

You rolled your eyes, moving to look at the menu. He leaned back on your bed, resting his head on the headboard while watching you with amusement. 

“There’s too many choices,” you muttered, unable to decide between chicken tenders and a burger. 

“What are you between?” He asked. 

“Chicken or a burger.”

“Just get both and we’ll split it,” he said and you nodded, calling in the order. Once you had the food, you sat a respectable distance away from him on the bed, letting him talk you through what the race was like for him. 

“Sorry for boring you,” he said sheepishly and you smiled. 

“I’m not bored, I like seeing you get lost like that,” you said. “If only those gossip accounts knew that you actually liked racing.” 

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t know where they come up with that stuff. Didn’t peg you as a gossip follower.” 

“It’s amusing,” you said, shrugging. 

As the night wore on, you found yourself inching closer to Lance on the bed. The conversation flowed easily between you, covering everything from childhood memories to your current aspirations. You were surprised at how comfortable you felt with him.

"You know," Lance said, his voice soft, "I've really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me too," you admitted, meeting his gaze. 

“I should probably get going,” he said, and you felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. 

“Yeah, it’s late,” you said, sliding off the bed to walk him to the door. 

“Esteban said you were remote now, does that mean I’ll see you next week?” He asked, one hand on the handle.

“If you’re lucky,” you teased and he smiled before pressing his lips against your forehead. 

“I’ll see ya,” he said and you were glad he had already turned so that he couldn’t see the red on your face. 

—----------Mexico GP—------------------

Lance was having a good race, slated to get some much-needed points but a last-minute push by Pierre crushed his hopes. He was frustrated coming out of the car, snapping at his engineer before retreating to his driver's room. He rarely lost his cool, but something about today had him trying to simmer down his frustration. Being so close to finishing in points and then having it ripped away was not a good feeling. 

Your brother was pulled away for debriefs so you wandered around the paddock for a bit before running into Fernando. You had gotten to know him a bit when him and Esteban drove together for Alpine. 

“Hey y/n,” the older man greeted you, pulling you into a quick hug. “Your boyfriend is scaring everyone away.” 

“Boyfriend?” You asked confused and Fernando smirked. 

“Yeah your lover boy teammate of mine,” he said. “Since he can’t talk to Esteban about you, I have unfortunately become the sounding board.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said, mumbling, a slight flush on your cheeks. “Is he okay?” 

“Just pissed, snapping at people, try to calm him down will ya?” He asked, not giving you a chance to answer before walking away. 

Sighing, you made your way to the Aston garage, heading towards the room that everyone seemed to be avoiding. You knocked once before pushing open the door to see Lance, shirtless with a scowl on his face. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Lance's toned chest. Despite his frustrated expression, you couldn't help but admire his physique. Shaking yourself out of your daze, you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you.

"Hey," you said softly, approaching him cautiously. "Tough race, huh?"

Lance looked up, his scowl softening slightly when he saw you. "Yeah, you could say that," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

You sat down next to him on the small couch, close enough that your thighs were touching. "Want to talk about it?"

He sighed heavily. "It's just... I was so close. Those points would have meant a lot, you know?"

You nodded sympathetically, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "I know. But you drove well out there. Sometimes things just don’t work out.” 

You could feel the anger radiating off of him and could tell he was trying to stop himself from snapping at you. 

“Can I help you relax?” You asked and he scoffed. 

“I don’t think anything can help me,” he said. 

“I can think of a few ideas,” you said, moving off the couch onto your knees in front of him. His eyes widened at what you were suggesting, but the way you were staring up at him had him instantly hard. 

“Y/n…,” he trailed as you started to pull his suit, further down, leaving him just in his briefs. 

“Let me take care of you, baby,” you whispered. 

Lance's breath hitched as your fingers trailed along the waistband of his briefs. His eyes were dark with desire as he gazed down at you.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice husky.

You nodded, maintaining eye contact as you slowly pulled down his underwear. His erection sprang free, and you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your hand around his length, stroking him slowly. Lance's head fell back against the couch, a low groan escaping his lips. Encouraged by his reaction, you leaned forward and took him into your mouth.

"Fuck," Lance hissed, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head.

You worked him with your mouth and hand, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, shallow bobs. Lance's fingers tangled in your hair, pushing your head deeper, causing you to gag. 

You pulled back slightly, adjusting to his size before taking him deeper again. Lance's hips began to thrust gently, matching your rhythm. The room filled with the sounds of his low moans and your muffled whimpers.

"Y/n, I'm close," Lance warned, his grip on your hair tightening.

You doubled your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his tip. With a final groan, Lance came undone, spilling into your mouth. You swallowed everything he gave you, continuing to suck gently until he was completely spent.

Pulling away, you wiped your mouth and looked up at Lance. His chest was heaving, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. He gazed down at you with a mix of awe and affection.

"Come here," he said softly, helping you up onto his lap. 

“Better?” You asked, and he pressed his lips gently against yours. 

“Much,” he said. 

You played nervously with his hair, his arms wrapped snugly around you as you both sat silently. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” He asked. 

“I really like you,” you admitted boldly, looking down to see him grinning widely. 

“I really like you too,” he said. 

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to be dragged through the media thought yet,” you said softly. “Or have my family harass me.” 

“We can take things slowly and quietly,” Lance assured you, returning his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and you melted into him. 

—--------------------------------------------------

The next month went by quickly and you didn’t go a day without talking to Lance. You hadn’t seen him much, not being able to go the Brazil GP, which was sad considering how well your brother did. But you facetimed him constantly and he had flown out to London everytime he had a break. 

He was such a sweetheart and made you feel so special, always showering you with compliments and affection. You knew your brother was starting to get suspicious, especially since Lance had bailed on hanging with him multiple times. With that in mind, you decided that maybe it was time to go public, at least with him. 

Flavy had called and said that she and Esteban were renting a cabin in the Alps and wanted to know if you wanted to join. 

“Yeah, I’m free. Can I bring someone?” You asked. 

“Oooo who??,” she questioned over the phone. 

“My boyfriend,” you said quickly, and you heard her scream. 

“Are you joking me?” She complained. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is it who I think it is?” 

“Yes,” you admitted. “Just make sure Esteban is in a good mood.” 

Your flight landed at the same time as Lance’s, and Lance greeted you with a kiss once he saw you come down to baggage claim. 

“Hi, angel, I missed you,” he sai,d and you beamed up at him. 

“I missed you too,” you replied. He took your luggage from you, carrying it to the waiting car as you drove up to the cabin. 

“Nervous?” You asked, noting how Lance bobbed his knee up and down. 

“I can take him, so no,” he said and you playfully hit his shoulder. 

“It’ll be fine,” you reassured him. 

You had thought Flavy would let it slip to Esteban that Lance was coming but based on his shocked face, that was clearly not the case.

As you and Lance stepped out of the car, Esteban's jaw dropped. He looked between the two of you, his eyes narrowing as he noticed your intertwined hands.

"What's going on here?" Esteban demanded, his voice a mix of confusion and anger.

You took a deep breath, squeezing Lance's hand for support. "Estie, Lance and I are together. We've been dating for a little while now."

Esteban's face turned red, and for a moment, you thought he might explode. But then Flavy appeared behind him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Babe, remember what we talked about," she said softly. "Be happy for your sister."

Esteban took a deep breath, visibly trying to compose himself. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since Austin," Lance answered, his voice not wavering. You both waited in silence for Esteban to respond but he just kept looking from you to Lance, not saying anything.

“Fine.”

That was all he said before he spun on his heel and stormed into the house. 

“That went well,” you muttered. Flavy shot you an apologetic look before following him inside and Lance pulled you into his body. His hands found your jaw as he cradled your face. 

“He’ll come around,” he promised and you couldn’t help but smile. Leaning up, you pressed a soft kiss against his lips before heading inside. 

Inside the cozy cabin, the tension was palpable. Flavy had ushered Esteban into the kitchen, leaving you and Lance in the living room to settle in. You could hear low murmurs from behind the closed door as they spoke, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. Lance gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he helped you unpack your coat.

After what felt like an eternity, the kitchen door swung open, and Esteban stepped out, his expression unreadable. Flavy trailed behind him, giving you an encouraging nod.

“Lance,” Esteban said, his tone firm but calmer than before. “Can we talk outside? Just us.”

Lance glanced at you, and you gave him a small nod. “Sure,” he replied, following Esteban onto the snowy porch.

You watched through the window as the two of them stood facing each other. Their conversation was animated at first, with Esteban gesturing wildly while Lance remained composed, his hands tucked into his pockets. But slowly, the tension seemed to melt away. Esteban’s shoulders relaxed, and Lance let out a small laugh, clapping him on the shoulder.

When they finally came back inside, both of them seemed lighter. Esteban walked straight up to you, his expression softening as he looked at you.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “If you’re happy, that’s all that matters. But,” he added, pointing at Lance, “if you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lance said earnestly.

Esteban nodded and pulled you into a quick hug. “Just… don’t make me regret this,” he murmured, ruffling your hair like he used to when you were kids.

Lance gave you a knowing smile as Esteban turned to Flavy, muttering something about needing a drink.

“See?” Lance whispered, leaning close to your ear. “Told you he’d come around.”

You laughed, feeling a weight lift off your chest. Maybe this holiday wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Flavy came near you, holding out a glass of wine, “you’re going to need this.”

“Why?” You said, accepting it curiously. She pulled out her phone to show you F1gossip’s latest post: you and Lance kissing at the airport. 

“Let’s get the bottle,” you said. 

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Imagine Yandere Sonic with a reader who’s very motherly towards Tails :3 because even though he’s a Yandere that’s still his little guy !! He raised him !! And now his love wants to help !!

A/n: this took a while

Yandere sonic x reader motherly towards tails

You didn’t expect to find yourself so attached to a little fox with two tails, but Miles (tails as Sonic and pretty much everyone else called him) had wormed his way into your heart.

From the moment you met him, you saw the brilliant kid who was so eager to impress his older brother. Sonic had told you plenty about Tails, practically beaming whenever he talked about the little fox’s inventions or plans that saved the whole team numerous times. Seeing Sonic so proud of someone was endearing, but meeting Tails for yourself had sealed the deal.

Tails was a sweetheart, and you adored him almost immediately.

The first time you saw him, he had been tinkering with one of his many gadgets in his workshop. His fur was messy, and he had goggles that sat crooked on his head.

"You're Tails, right?" you had asked, kneeling down to his height. "Sonic’s told me so much about you."

His ears perked up. "What'd he say?"

"He said you’re the smartest, most resourceful guy he knows. I mean, I’m looking at all this" you gestured to the various gadgets scattered around. "and I’m already impressed."

From that moment, you’d made it your mission to look out for him. Sure, Sonic was protective of Tails, but you couldn’t help wanting to mother the poor fox. He was still a kid, after all, and while he had Sonic to guide him, you felt that he needed someone to dote on him, to remind him to take breaks and eat properly when he got too caught up in his work.

Sonic noticed your attachment to Tails almost immediately, and it struck a chord deep within him.

You loved Tails.

His Tails.

Watching the two of you interact pulled on his heart strings.

In Sonic’s mind, this was perfect. You didn’t just care about him, you cared about the person he cared about most. It solidified the idea that you were meant to be part of his little "family." After all, you didn’t just love him, you loved both of them.

But that also came with complications.

While Sonic was thrilled that you cared for Tails, it also ignited a possessive streak in him that was hard to control. He had always been protective of Tails, almost to a fault, and seeing you step into that role stirred something in him.

On the surface, he was supportive, even encouraging you to spend time with Tails. But underneath, his obsession simmered.

What if Tails started to love you more than he loved Sonic? What if you started to love Tails more than you loved him?

The thought made him feel sick, and he hated himself for it. Tails was his little guy, he practically raised him, taught him everything he knew. But you were his, and sometimes, Sonic couldn’t shake the feeling that Tails was stealing bits and pieces of your attention that belonged to him.

Still, he kept those thoughts buried deep. For the most part, he let you mother Tails, but not without inserting himself at every opportunity.

One afternoon, you had brought Tails a basket of sandwiches and snacks, knowing he’d probably been up in his workshop for hours without eating. Sonic had tagged along, of course, watching from a distance as you fussed over the young fox.

"Tails, you’ve got to eat something," you said, placing the basket on the workbench. "You can’t run on fumes."

Tails looked up from his latest project, blinking in surprise. "Oh, I guess I forgot, my bad..."

You gave him a gentle smile and pushed the basket toward him. "That’s what I’m here for. Now, take a break, okay? Your inventions can wait a few minutes."

Sonic leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. His heart swelled at how caring you were, but there was a fleeting flicker of jealousy he couldn’t ignore.

When Tails finally relented and started eating, you ruffled his fur affectionately. "Good. See? Doesn't that feel better?"

Sonic's chest tightened. That should be me, he thought. I should be the one getting all their attention.

But instead of saying anything, he strolled into the workshop, putting on his usual confident grin.

"Hey, little buddy! Whatcha working on?" he asked, his tone light but his gaze flickering to you briefly.

Tails perked up. "Oh, trying to find a more efficient wnergy source for one of my planes!"

"Sweet! You’re gonna be flying circles around everyone." Sonic gave Tails a thumbs up, ruffling his head.

As the weeks went by, your bond with Tails only grew stronger, and so did Sonic’s obsession. He started orchestrating ways to keep you closer, using Tails as an excuse whenever he could.

"Hey, Tails is working on something dangerous. You should come keep an eye on him," hed say, even if Tails was just fixing something harmless.

Or, "Tails could use some help organizing his workshop. You’re so good at that stuff."

It wasn’t always subtle, but you didn’t question it. You were happy to help, and Sonic was happy to have you around.

Still, his possessiveness began to show in little ways. He would hover whenever you were with Tails, always inserting himself into conversations or finding excuses to touch you, a hand on your shoulder, an arm slung around your waist. If Tails noticed, he didn’t say anything, but you couldn’t ignore the way Sonic’s grip tightened whenever you paid more attention to Tails than to him.

One evening, after you had spent the entire day helping Tails with a new project, Sonic finally snapped.

"Y'know" he said casually as the two of you walked home "you're pretty good with Tails. Almost too good."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing the edge in his voice. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Sonic stopped walking and turned to face you, his usual playful demeanor replaced entirely.

"I mean, you spend a lot of time with him," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Not that I’m complaining, but... don’t forget about me, okay?"

You blinked, taken aback. "Sonic, I could never forget about you. You know that."

He stepped closer. "Do I? Sometimes it feels like you’re more interested in Tails than in me."

"That's not true," you said firmly. "I care about both of you."

"But you care about me more, right?"

"Right..?"

[johanirae]

HOTD | Aemond and Lucerys pouring all their love and affection into letters that the other will never receive. (Because Otto is an asshole and steals them, at the cost at his own mental health)

Text in panel behind cut for easier reading:

Text here for easier reading

Taoba, why do you choose to torment me so. Was it not enough that you have taken my eye, now you must steal my heart and my mind?

That single glance of you at the training yard was enough to stoke a fire I have never experienced before. You occupy every moment of my thoughts. I burn for you. I want to grab your arms, push you down onto my bed. I want to bury my head in between your thighs.

If you would not reply my letters, then why must you insist on giving me those glances at dinner? Those desperate, lingering glances, as if you do not see how much I burn for you?

Qybor. This is my fifth letter this week. Will it once again go unanswered? You must think me a fool, but I am not. I am merely a weak individual driven mad by love for own uncle. What would it take for you to answer? I would not just give you my eye, I will give you my heart and my body. Let me lay down on your bed. Let me worship every inch of your lean, beautiful, sculpted body. Even just for one night. 

I receive such mixed messages from you, dearest Aemond. You refuse to answer my letters, yet you spit fire at any squire who even smiles in my direction. I confess, I have taken to smiling back at them, if only to provoke your ire. It is better than being ignored.

Otto who wishes he doesn’t have to intercept Aemond and Lucerys’ letters, he doesn’t WANT to read all of this sappy, smutty, saccharine letters written by these pervs, but is forced to because 

1) Otto must know all their secrets. 

(As TMI as they all are)

2) maybe this was all a ploy by Daemon to communicate to his spies in code. 

(IT IS PERFECTLY IN CHARACTER FOR THAT DEPRAVED MAN TO USE HIS SON’S LOVE LETTERS TO TALK TO HIS SPIES)

Nobody appreciates how much he SUFFERS for this family, he is SO sick of this. And the letters aren’t stopping with time, if anything it has ESCALATED with age, these jerks went from one raven a week to two a day, he is SUFFERING. 

Otto: I surrender. Just free me from the torment of reading their letters.  

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hi everyone it's another Wednesday <3 I was tagged by the wonderful @ladytanithia @changelingsandothernonsense @lillxart @theoneandonlysemla

Tagging: @captain-of-silvenar @pocket-vvardvark @dirty-bosmer @bougainvillea-and-saltwater

@umbracirrus @firefly-factory @thequeenofthewinter @lucien-lachance @sanza-17 @hircines-hunter @scholarlyhermit @sulphuricgrin

Was hoping to post some more Vevora/Aicanatr stuff but unfortunately it just ain't working rn but! I was able to get some writing done on a wip that's been sitting around since November. Below is some of my Theomar love confession rewrite <3 Man down so bad he volunteered to go to Windhelm post-Civil War as an excuse to see her <3 <3 <3 Under cut for length, one slightly horny line, and she takes that mer drinking at the Cornerclub :P

There could not be a worse time for him to fall for her, become so entangled in wanting her that it made him desire to abandon his post. But if that were a doable feat, then the standards that made him feel that way would not be as strict as they are. Their deeply grim reality did not stop the love, admitting it to himself had been like a dam bursting; the drops of sustaining professional praise could not compete with the rapids of intimacy. Her hands on his face, letting him lie on her breasts and listen to the calming sound of her heartbeat, how her legs would pull him in closer until he was- Enough. There he went getting too far ahead and wrapped up in her yet again. The sigh heard from him sounds more of a stifled groan to which he gets a confused, yet intrigued look from the Imperial woman. He provides a quick cover up. 

“My apologies, it would seem I let myself get distracted by you again.” 

“Why Commander, you really must get better about that.” No. He had no intention of pushing her from his mind, it had already proven to be a losing battle. He prayed to be freed of her to now welcome the torment, retreating further into her. If had any power in the situation, he would absolutely not be in Windhelm right now, planning how to tell this Imperial soldier that he loved her. “I wouldn’t want you losing sight of things.”

“Oh, I think you would like it very much.” Finally, he remembers her question. “And yes, I did come all this way to see you. You ran through my mind constantly these past months, how could I not take advantage of the opportunity?” 

“I’ve missed you as well.” Controlling the elation he feels is difficult, uptick in his voice.  

“Is that so?”

“I did think about you on occasion.” When? Despite desperately wanting to know, he refrains, content to know she has noticed his absence. “It has been a few months, it is good to see you. Despite the circumstances…” Her words trail off a bit towards the end, the similar look from before only now she does see him. Staring up at him, her left eye twitched as though she would begin crying again.  

“You wouldn’t want to join me somewhere, would you?” Please he thinks. Please let me steal you from them, just a moment Theodora. Tapping her finger to her chin, she smirks at him. 

“Hmmm, I will but only if you join me somewhere first?” Oh What did she have in mind? He assumed she knew the city better than him, maybe there was somewhere else they could go…

“Tell me what do you have in mind?”

“Well, after the day I’ve had, I need a drink.” A quick glance at their surroundings before she taps his chest. “And I imagine you could use one as well.” 

“It would not hurt.” Anything you would like. That is what he wishes to say. Have his only concern making her happy and if there would be something other than mead available. But he has far more worries than that. 

“I cannot imagine the tavern will be a safe place for us.”

“No it would not be.” Confusing the Thalmor, she laughs. “Do you think so lowly of me to think I’d go there?”

“Where do you drink then, Theodora?” 

Regret is not what he feels, sitting at a table that is continuously blasted with cold air as the patrons of this Cornerclub, as it were, shuffle in and out. Offhandedly he wonders if they were passing by him purposely, seeking out more chances to lour at him in the way only Dunmer could. The scowls form the Nords, the shifted glances half outside his vision, those were all too easy to interpret: Damn elf. Uninspired. But the Dunmer, oh the Dunmer could hate with such sincerity that as the few who uttered something in addition to their glares, they did not need to say it in the common tongue. The Dunmeris meaning of the word unknown, their tone alone conveys the intent of an insult. It’s not important for him to know exactly how he is being insulted, though he could harbour a guess or two, simply saying it for their own satisfaction. It was somewhat impressive, in a peculiar way, but nonetheless, Ondolemar is slightly impressed. Perhaps he was just glad to be in the company of mer, regardless of what type of mer they are. Yet what does rouse further intrigue in him, however, is the decidedly lack of similar treatment Theodora receives. 

Ordering in their language and going relatively unnoticed as she returns to him, two strange jars that resemble nothing he had seen before, he comments on it. Not completely surprised as why would she frequent an establishment she was not welcomed in, this is still strangely welcoming. 

“You’re well liked here.” The woman places one jar in from of him before chuckling at his notion. Lovely to hear her laugh again after the pain that marked her face when they first spoke. 

“I wouldn't go that far, Commander.”

“You wouldn’t?” 

“I wouldn’t.” She opens the jar and takes a mouthful. “But speaking Dunmeris, having lived in Morrowind even if only for a few months, it does help. Still an Imperial bastard but I don’t have to pretend to be interested in mead and a poor rendition of the Dragonborn Comes at Candlehearth Hall.” Cyrodiil natives prided themselves on being cosmopolitan but Theodora was a true example of that. 

“Clearly you get along with many different kinds of people.”

“Clearly.” She rolls her eyes. He himself is the most damning evidence after all, but it is humorous her assessment of her person. 

“Well, I suppose Imperial bastard is correct in the most literal sense.”

“I prefer the term love child I’ll have you know.”

"Equally true, from what you have told me." He takes the lid off the concoction in front of him. “What would I be?”

“I suppose you could go ask, I bet Ambarys would be willing to tell you to your face.” Directing his attention to the barkeep with her eyes, the Altmer instead chooses to remain with the reason he’s here at all. Less interested in what he thought of her choice in company and more in enjoying what he came all this way for; her. 

“I believe my imagination will suffice.”

[luvashli]

THE BET

Synopsis -> Heeseung, the campus heartthrob known for his charm and devil-may-care attitude, makes a bet with his friends: he’ll win you over in just one week. However, as he spends more time with you, his cocky facade starts to crack. What starts as a game becomes a test of emotions neither of you expected.

PAIRING: nonidol!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE: oneshot, College au, romance, angst, slowburn, drama

STARTED: 1/21/2025

STATUS: complete

WC: 4.2 K

The whispers about Heeseung started the first day you set foot on campus. “The guy’s a legend,” someone had said during freshman orientation. “He can charm anyone.”

You hadn’t paid much attention then. Sure, you’d seen him around—leaning against his car in the parking lot, laughing with friends as if the world was his playground. He was tall, undeniably handsome, with the kind of effortless confidence that made people gravitate toward him. But you didn’t like people like him. People who lived their lives on autopilot, coasting on good looks and charm.

You prided yourself on being different. Confident, independent, and no-nonsense, you had no time for boys who thought they could play games with your heart. Your focus was on your studies, your goals, and your small circle of friends who valued authenticity over popularity.

But everything changed on a rainy Wednesday afternoon in the campus library.

“Let’s make it interesting,” Jay said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, already tired of his friend’s antics. They were hanging out in one of the campus lounges, killing time between classes. Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, and Sunoo—all of them notorious for their friendly but reckless behavior—were egging him on as usual.

“You’ve won over every girl on campus,” Jake added. “Except for her.”

Heeseung frowned, glancing across the room where you sat, headphones on, flipping through a thick textbook. You looked focused, completely unaware of the world around you.

“Y/N?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s untouchable,” Sunghoon said with a shrug. “I heard she turned down three guys last semester, all of them way more charming than you.”

Heeseung smirked, leaning back. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a bet,” Jay said, his grin widening. “Seven days. You get her to fall for you, and dinner’s on us for a month.”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you intrigued him. You were different from the girls who usually threw themselves at him. Confident, uninterested, completely in your own world.

“Fine,” Heeseung said, grinning. “Seven days. Watch and learn.”

Day One

The rain had started to pour outside, the steady rhythm tapping against the library windows. You were lost in your reading, trying to make sense of a particularly dense paragraph in your sociology textbook, when a shadow fell across your desk.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and there he was—Lee Heeseung, in all his cocky glory.

“Yes, I mind,” you said curtly, turning back to your book.

He didn’t leave. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, a lazy smile on his face.

“Y/N, right?”

You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know my name?”

He shrugged, leaning forward slightly. “I have my ways.”

You rolled your eyes, already annoyed. “Look, I’m busy. Whatever game you’re playing, go play it somewhere else.”

But Heeseung didn’t budge. Instead, he spent the next hour pretending to study, stealing glances at you and making small comments that made you want to scream.

When you finally packed up your things and left, he followed you outside.

“Hey, wait,” he called out.

“What now?” you snapped, turning around.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his usual confidence faltering. “Let me walk you home. It’s raining.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out his angle. But in the end, you let him.

Day Two

The sun had barely risen, casting a warm, golden glow over campus as you settled into your favorite corner of the coffee shop. It was your sacred morning ritual—black coffee, a half-eaten muffin, and your notebook open to a page of neat, organized notes. The world outside could be chaos, but here, with the hum of coffee machines and quiet chatter, you had control.

Heeseung, however, seemed hellbent on disrupting that control.

You didn’t even notice him at first, too engrossed in highlighting an important section of your notes. It wasn’t until you caught the faint whiff of cologne—something subtle but maddeningly alluring—that you glanced up.

“Morning,” he said, already sliding into the seat across from you as if he belonged there.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you make a habit of invading people’s mornings uninvited?”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Only when they look like they need company.“

“I don’t,” you replied flatly, going back to your notes.

He didn’t move. Instead, he leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand as he studied you. “You know, you’re kind of infamous around here.”

You paused, raising an eyebrow. “Infamous?”

“For being the girl who doesn’t fall for anyone,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of genuine curiosity. “It’s impressive.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let me guess. That’s your opening line for every girl you’re trying to charm?”

“Not every girl,” he said with a smirk. “Just the ones who don’t seem to like me.”

Despite yourself, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch upward. You quickly masked it with a sip of coffee, trying to remind yourself that Heeseung was nothing but trouble.

“What do you want, Heeseung?” you asked finally, your tone sharp.

“To get to know you,” he said, his voice softening.

You weren’t sure if it was the sincerity in his tone or the way his eyes seemed to hold yours for a moment too long, but something about his words caught you off guard. You shook your head, determined not to let him get under your skin.

“Not interested,” you said, closing your notebook and standing up.

Heeseung watched as you gathered your things, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. Just as you were about to walk away, he called out:

“See you around, Y/N.”

You didn’t turn back, but his words echoed in your mind long after you left the coffee shop.

Later that day, you found yourself replaying the encounter in your head, annoyed that he had managed to occupy even a fraction of your thoughts. Heeseung was just another cocky guy who thought he could charm his way into anything. You’d seen it a thousand times before.

So why did the memory of his stupid grin make your chest tighten?

Heeseung’s pov

On the other side of campus, Heeseung sat with his friends, half-listening to their conversation while his mind wandered back to you.

“She’s different,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only talked to her twice.”

“Yeah, but…” Heeseung trailed off, unable to find the right words. You were a challenge, sure, but it was more than that. The fire in your eyes, the way you held yourself like you didn’t need anyone—that was what fascinated him.

“Just don’t screw it up,” Jake said with a grin. “You’ve got five days left, and she’s not going to make it easy.”

Heeseung smirked, but inside, he felt the first pang of doubt. This wasn’t just a game anymore, and he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

Day Three

You told yourself you were overthinking things. Heeseung was just another guy trying to get your attention, and if you ignored him long enough, he'd eventually get bored and move on. But when you walked into the campus library that afternoon, the last thing you expected was to find him there—leaning against a bookshelf in the fiction section, skimming through a book like he belonged there.

You froze for a moment, cursing your luck. He glanced up almost immediately, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Well, look who it is,” he said, closing the book and tucking it under his arm. “Didn’t take you for a library kind of person.”

You rolled your eyes, clutching your notebook tighter against your chest. “What���s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said innocently, though the smirk tugging at his lips said otherwise.

“Do you just… follow me around campus now?” you asked, your tone sharp.

Heeseung laughed, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, I have other hobbies besides annoying you.”

You stepped closer, trying to find the book you came for. Heeseung didn’t move, his presence radiating far too much confidence for someone standing in your way.

“Do you mind?” you asked pointedly, gesturing toward the shelf behind him.

Heeseung glanced over his shoulder, then back at you. “What are you looking for?”

“None of your business,” you snapped.

“Fair enough,” he said, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow. “Go ahead.”

You ignored him and quickly grabbed the book you needed, but his gaze lingered on you as you tried to focus.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “you’re kind of fascinating.”

You sighed, turning to face him. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope,” he said, his grin widening. “See you around, Y/N.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of irritation and intrigue. Heeseung was persistent, you’d give him that. But there was something about the way he looked at you—like he actually wanted to figure you out—that made your defenses waver, if only for a moment.

Day Four

It was late in the evening, and the campus was unusually quiet. You were walking back to your dorm, lost in thought, when you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, already annoyed, and sure enough, there he was.

“Are you seriously stalking me now?” you asked, stopping in your tracks.

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I was heading this way anyway.”

You narrowed your eyes but kept walking. He fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets, his usual cocky demeanor oddly subdued.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the quiet night settling between you like a fragile truce.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer than you expected.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, glancing at him. “I just don’t trust you.”

Heeseung nodded, as if he’d been expecting that answer. “Fair enough.”

You didn’t know why, but his lack of a comeback caught you off guard. For once, he wasn’t trying to charm you or get under your skin—he was just… there.

As you reached your dorm, he stopped and turned to you. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Goodnight.”

And for the first time, you realized you weren’t entirely dreading seeing him again.

Day Five

By now, you’d started noticing Heeseung everywhere. In the coffee shop, at the library, even in passing conversations with your friends. It was like he’d found a way to exist on the edges of your world without completely intruding.

That evening, you were sitting on a bench outside the student center, flipping through your notes, when Heeseung appeared again. This time, he wasn’t smirking or teasing—he looked almost… nervous.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the space beside you.

You considered saying no but sighed instead, scooting over to make room.

He sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I know I can be annoying,” he said finally, his voice low. “But I’m not a bad guy, Y/N.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his sudden honesty. “Then why act like one?”

Heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s easier that way. People don’t expect much from you if they think you’re just messing around.”

You studied him for a moment, trying to reconcile the cocky persona he usually wore with the vulnerability he was showing now.

“Maybe you should stop pretending,” you said softly.

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to figure out if you really meant it.

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” he said.

And in that moment, you felt the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crack, just a little.

It was the sixth day when everything fell apart.

You were walking across campus when you overheard them—Heeseung and his friends, laughing about the bet.

“Did you really think she’d fall for it?” Jay said, grinning. “Man, you’re good.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned the corner, and there they were, laughing as if it was all just a game.

“Heeseung,” you said, your voice icy.

He turned around, his smile fading when he saw your expression.

“Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t,” you snapped. “Don’t you dare try to explain. I should’ve known this was all a joke to you.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Save it,” you said, your voice breaking. “I don’t want to hear it.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving him standing there, his heart sinking.

The knock on your door came just as you were about to turn in for the night. You frowned, glancing at the clock—it was nearing midnight. Pulling on a hoodie over your tank top, you padded to the door, already bracing yourself for some random excuse from your roommate or a delivery mix-up.

But when you opened the door, there he was.

Heeseung stood on the other side, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His hair was a mess, as though he’d run his hands through it a hundred times, and his eyes… They weren’t cocky or playful like usual. They were wide, hesitant, and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, his voice quiet—almost pleading.

You hesitated, debating whether or not to shut the door in his face. But something about the way he looked, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, made you pause.

“Fine,” you said reluctantly, stepping aside.

He walked in, but his usual confidence was absent. He didn’t try to sprawl on your couch or crack a joke. Instead, he hovered near the door, hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Y/N…” Heeseung started, then stopped, as if the words were too heavy to say.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter. “If you’re just here to waste my time—”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, cutting you off. His voice cracked, and it made you freeze.

“What?” you said, your tone softer now, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his gaze fixed on the floor. “For the bet. For being an idiot. For… for hurting you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “You’re really going to apologize now? After everything?”

“I know,” he said quickly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “I know it’s late, and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I… I couldn’t just leave it like this. You have no idea how much I hate myself for what I did.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened at the sight of him like this—so undone, so unlike the Heeseung you thought you knew.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice trembling. “At first, it was just… stupid. I wanted to win, I wanted to prove I could get to you. But then…” He took a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “Then I got to know you. And suddenly, it wasn’t about the bet anymore. It was about you. And I ruined it.”

You stayed silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

Heeseung’s voice dropped, almost a whisper now. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I swear, Y/N. Just… tell me what to do.”

The vulnerability in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Heeseung, the guy who seemed untouchable, was standing in your apartment, completely unguarded and entirely at your mercy.

“Why should I believe you?” you asked, your voice trembling despite yourself. “How do I know this isn’t just another game?”

His eyes softened, and he took a step closer, hesitating as though afraid you’d push him away. “Because you’re the only person who’s ever made me want to be better,” he said, his voice barely audible. “And I can’t lose that.”

You stared at him, your emotions warring inside you. The anger, the hurt, the lingering attraction—it all came to a head as he closed the distance between you, his hand hovering just inches from yours.

“I don’t want your words, Heeseung,” you said, your voice breaking. “I want proof.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he’d retreat. But then he stepped even closer, his breath mingling with yours as he looked at you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Then let me show you,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

And before you could think, before you could push him away or pull him closer, he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or gentle—it was desperate, raw, filled with all the tension and unspoken emotions that had been building between you. His hands cupped your face, almost reverently, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

You wanted to stay angry. You wanted to shove him back and tell him he didn’t deserve you. But the way he kissed you, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world, made it impossible to pull away.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, and his breath was shaky.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll prove it to you every single day if I have to.”

For the first time, you saw the real Heeseung—not the cocky playboy or the overconfident charmer, but the broken boy underneath, desperate for a second chance.

And for the first time, you thought maybe—just maybe—you’d give him one.

It had been a few weeks since Heeseung's late-night apology at your apartment, and things had undeniably shifted between you both. What started as a tangled mess of hurt and confusion had slowly transformed into something new, something unexpected—something real.

You had no idea what would happen next. You still had questions. You still had doubts. But when Heeseung had come to you, laid bare his vulnerabilities, and shown you his true self, it was hard to ignore the connection you’d always had. Something had cracked inside you, and though the wound was still fresh, it had given way to the possibility of something more.

And so, you moved forward, cautiously at first, but with each passing day, your trust in him grew. The dynamic between you had changed completely, but it wasn’t what you expected. Heeseung wasn’t just the cocky, confident guy he once was—he was more patient now, more introspective. It was clear that he was trying to prove that he meant what he said, and you found yourself falling for him again, in a way that was different. It wasn’t the infatuation of the bet or the thrill of the game; this time, it was something deeper, quieter—something more meaningful.

He still had his playful side, of course. But when you looked at him now, you saw the layers that were once hidden beneath the surface. You saw the side of him that had always been there—the side that cared, the side that loved fiercely, and the side that wanted to make things right.

You didn’t have to say the words out loud to feel it—you could see it in the way he looked at you. Heeseung’s eyes no longer held that playful arrogance; instead, they were filled with warmth, tenderness, and sometimes, a hint of uncertainty. It was a vulnerability that you never would’ve expected from him, but it made him more real, more human.

One evening, as the two of you sat together in the common room, sharing a quiet dinner, you caught him looking at you in a way that made your heart flutter.

“You’re staring,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Heeseung smirked, but it was different now. “I can’t help it,” he said, leaning in slightly. “You’re kind of… amazing.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. It had taken time, but it was clear now—there was no more pretense. Heeseung had let his guard down, and so had you.

But as much as you had grown closer, there were still moments where you felt the weight of the past. You still remembered the bet, the hurt, the betrayal. But Heeseung didn’t shy away from these moments; he acknowledged them, apologized again when needed, and showed you, through his actions, that he was working to be better.

It wasn’t long before the others started to notice the subtle shift in your relationship with Heeseung. They weren’t blind—how could they be? The playful banter between you two had transformed into something much quieter, something that wasn’t as easily hidden.

At first, they were confused, unsure of what had changed. They had seen you and Heeseung bicker before, but this time, the air between you both was different. It was as if something unspoken was lingering, a secret that neither of you could hide.

One afternoon, you were all gathered in the living room of their shared apartment, hanging out after classes. The guys were being their usual selves—loud, playful, and full of energy. You were sitting next to Heeseung, your knees brushing together as you chatted with Sunghoon about an upcoming project.

But Heeseung’s hand was resting on your thigh, just enough to let you know he was there, a silent reassurance. It was subtle, but it wasn’t unnoticed by the others.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing between you two. “Okay, seriously. What’s going on with you two?”

You tensed slightly, but Heeseung leaned back in his chair, his expression relaxed. “What do you mean?” he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips. But you could see the way his eyes flicked to you, a little too aware of how the conversation was turning.

“You two are… different,” Sunghoon said slowly, his gaze lingering on the hand that Heeseung had placed on your thigh. “You’re not acting like you used to. So, what’s up?”

Jake, who had been quiet up until now, smirked. “I’m just waiting for one of you to break the silence and admit it already.”

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably, but instead of retreating, he met your eyes, as if silently asking if he should say anything. You sighed, shaking your head slightly.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” you said, your tone casual but with a hint of amusement. “We’ve been through a lot, and we’re…”

“Together,” Heeseung finished, his voice steady, but there was a trace of something—nervousness, maybe?—lingering in his tone.

The room fell into a stunned silence. You could practically hear the gears turning in their heads as they processed your words.

Jay, who had been leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “So, wait, you’re telling us that you two are, like… official?”

You nodded, but before you could say anything else, Sunoo broke in, his grin wide. “Well, it’s about damn time!”

The others erupted into laughter, but you could tell that there was a mixture of surprise and understanding in their eyes. They hadn’t expected this, not after the way things had started, but they could see the change in both of you.

“You two are cute,” Sunghoon said, shaking his head with a smile. “I guess you’re not the cocky, arrogant guy you once were, huh, Heeseung?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, but there was a genuine smile on his face. “Nope,” he said with a mock sigh. “Guess I’m whipped now.”

You snorted, reaching over to nudge him. “Shut up,” you muttered, but there was warmth in your voice.

“Well, whatever happens, I’m glad you two are happy,” Jake said, giving you both a thumbs-up. “But seriously, Heeseung, don’t mess it up this time.”

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “I won’t, I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson.”

You chuckled softly, your gaze softening as you looked at Heeseung. There was no doubt now—things had changed, and for the better. The trust between you had grown, and so had your feelings. It wasn’t going to be perfect, and there would still be bumps along the way, but you both knew you were in this together.

And as the conversation continued, you realized just how much you had both changed since that first bet, that first moment of rivalry. You had gone from strangers to something much deeper—partners, lovers, friends—no longer bound by the past but by what you had created together.

And for the first time in a long while, you were certain that whatever came next, you were ready to face it with Heeseung by your side.

Masterlist

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

Shopping grocerys with Simon 🛒

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed softly as you pushed the cart down the aisle, Simon trailing just behind you. Dressed in his usual black hoodie and jeans, with his mask firmly in place, he blended into the crowd effortlessly. But his piercing eyes tracked your every move, never straying too far.

You reached for a jar on the top shelf, and before you could grab it, a man nearby stepped forward, a charming grin on his face. “Let me get that for you,” he said, plucking the jar down with ease and handing it to you.

“Oh, thanks,” you said, smiling politely.

The man lingered a moment too long, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that made your skin crawl. “You know, you’re way too pretty to be doing your own grocery shopping.”

Before you could respond, Simon was there, his large frame cutting between you and the stranger like a wall of granite. He loomed over the man, his dark eyes cold and dangerous. “She’s not alone,” Simon growled, his voice low and edged with menace.

The man blinked, suddenly aware of the danger radiating from Simon. He muttered a quick apology and disappeared down the aisle, leaving you alone with your simmering husband.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, placing the jar in the cart.

Simon’s gaze was still locked on the empty aisle, his jaw clenched tight. “He was looking at you like you were on the damn menu.”

You touched his arm, drawing his attention back to you. “It doesn’t matter. I only care about how you look at me.”

The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, but the possessiveness in his eyes remained. Without a word, he reached for your hand, pulling you down a quieter aisle.

“Simon, what—”

Before you could finish, he pressed you against the shelf, his hands braced on either side of you. His eyes burned into yours, the intensity stealing your breath. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through you. “And I don’t like anyone forgetting that.”

Your pulse raced as he leaned in, his mask brushing against your cheek. His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing heated kisses down to your neck. You clung to his hoodie, the world around you fading away.

“Simon,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Say it,” he demanded, his lips hovering over yours.

“I’m yours,” you said, your voice barely audible.

His mouth crashed into yours, his kiss searing and possessive, leaving no room for doubt. When he finally pulled back, his eyes softened slightly, though the fire remained.

“Good,” he said, his voice rough. “Now, let’s finish this and get home. I’m not done with you yet.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you nodded, letting him take control of the cart. Even as you walked beside him, you could feel the heat of his gaze, a silent reminder that you belonged to him and only him.

[reocidal]

LOGIC

PAIRING ALHAITHAM X GN!READER

WARNINGS swearing, angst?, violence/blood, police officer x thief, one (1) suggestive reference, rushed ending, maybe ooc

WORD COUNT 738

AUTHOR'S NOTE cashing in for day 02 @phantasmaebg

"you have to get help," he tells you, voice flat. "stop thieving. there are other ways to get money."

"what if i don't want to?"

"think about it, logically—"

"fuck logic!" you snap. "i'm good just like this, thanks."

"and i am risking my job for you, so maybe stop thinking about yourself." alhaitham is calm, eerily so. but you know he has a point. you know this isn't something he — either of you — should be doing. "if you stop this— this foolish thieving you've got going on, i can help you, the way you need."

"i don't want your help," you retort before realising that this is escalating too fast. you decide to change the subject instead. "there's a lot of other things you're giving me, and it's enough, hell, it's way too much."

"what do i even give you?" he asks, genuinely intrigued. you make a funny face at him, and his curiosity turns into distaste as he grimaces.

"you're disgusting."

you scoff, getting up and dusting yourself off. "you're even worse, mr. respectable police officer. helping out a lowly thief like me? on a regular basis too!"

he glares at you, crossing his arms defensively. "you know there's a reason."

"i think i forgot." you smile without remorse; it's obvious that you haven't forgotten anything. alhaitham, for one, knows your memory is top tier. "actually, i think i need you to remind me again."

he makes a discontented noise low in his throat. "it's because i'm in love with you. there, are you satisfied?"

"very." you are. "so gimme a kiss, alhaitham, and we can go on our merry ways— see you at the next crime scene, maybe?"

"maybe not." he leans back when you lean up, and your lips turn down in response.

"what, hate me that much?"

he shakes his head. "give it a try, please. not being a nasty little thief, i mean."

you roll your eyes. "and what do i get in return? exactly, nothing!"

he sighs. "c'mon, pretty—"

"what'd you call me?"

alhaitham purses his lips. "you have nothing left to lose, i'll take care of you."

"my honour doesn't allow that."

"what honour do you have, living off— off shit you steal?" his voice, in contrast to his words, is surprisingly gentle. "when you know i could help you make a change."

you swallow. no one's happy now.

"like i said," you begin, and your voice wobbles. "like i said, we should be going now."

"alright." he moves robotically now, like he has no free will of his own. he's deflated, like something in him has been extinguished. he lets you kiss him goodbye, and you don't see him again for another two weeks.

when you do see alhaitham again, there's not only a defeated look in his eyes — as usual — but one in yours too. you're battered and bloodied, knuckles bruised a sick mix of blue, purple, and green colour that he knows will look even worse later. you look like a cornered creature, feral, flighty, ready to attack at any given moment. your poise looks relaxed, but from years of experience and knowing you he knows that it's nothing less than a disguise. you're so on guard, you're physically unable to let it down around him.

"what happened?" he takes a single, firm step towards you, but nothing more. no sudden movements, no actions that will cause you to work yourself up further.

"almost got caught," you force out. you're panting, voice raspy, eyes following all his movements.

"oh." he softens, visibly. "well. not much i can do now, right?"

"yeah."

"unless…"

"yeah."

you let him take you home that night; whatever inside you that had been fuelling all of this seems to have finally burned itself out. you let yourself cry when he bandages you up, rough hands tender upon yours. and when he begs you, again, to allow him to take care of you, you let him.

the robberies around town die down all of a sudden; coincidentally the records of the perpetrator of those aforementioned crimes are all erased due to a mishap while saving some files. you move into his apartment, and no one makes the connection between you and the infamous thief in town.

and it's while it's not the easiest or most enjoyable ride ever, the two of you do get your happy ending. but that, in itself, is another story.

© reocidal 2024

[bowsnstrings]

It was a quiet evening at Milana’s apartment, the kind where the only sounds were the hum of the city far below and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards. The soft golden glow of her lamp illuminated the room, casting a warm and intimate light over the space. Milana sat cross-legged on the couch, a cup of herbal tea in her hands, while Ony, leaned back next to her, petting Oreo lazily as his eyes gazed thoughtfully at her.

“So,” Milana began, setting her tea down carefully on the coffee table, her voice a little more tentative than usual. “I’ve been thinking... we’ve been talking about- well everything, but maybe we should talk about now, too. Like, what do we want from each other right now?”

Ony raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching upward as if he already knew where this was going, he’d just been waiting forever for her to get the courage to speak up. “You mean... right now, right now? Like, in the middle of a perfectly nice, quiet evening?” He teased, his deep voice carrying a playful edge.

Milana rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her smile. “Yeah, exactly. Like, I want to make sure we’re on the same page about everything. I mean, we’re both—”

“—Cleary not afraid of complicated conversations,” Ony finished her ramble with a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Go ‘head. Hit me with the questions, Mama.”

Milana giggled lightly and settled deeper into the cushions. “Okay, serious question. What do you want from me, right now? In this moment? In this relationship?” She leaned forward a little, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and affection.

Ony let out a breath, thinking for a moment. He sat up straighter next to her, his gaze turning soft as he met her eyes. “Well, I want your honesty, always. Even when it’s hard. And, honestly, I just want... your presence. It’s the little things you do that matter most to me.”

Milana smiled softly, her heart swelling a little. She reached over and placed her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re so perfect,” She said quietly, her voice warm and tender.

Ony’s smile softened in response, his hand giving hers a squeeze back. “That’s all you, Baby. But you already know that.” He paused, his tone turning more playful as he leaned in slightly. “Now, your turn. What do you want from me, right now?”

Milana blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in the question. She bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Okay, let’s see… I want you to stop stealing my snacks when I leave the room.”

Ony’s face broke into a full grin, and he shook his head dramatically. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never stolen your snacks.”

Milana raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? So you didn’t eat half of my cookies today, right after I left?” She nudged his arm, knocking it away from her as he smacked his lips.

Ony feigned innocence. “I’m just... helping you finish. You’re welcome.” He had to look away to pretend that he wasn’t smiling right then, suddenly finding her cat more interesting as he tried to climb up and sniff his hand.

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned forward and put on a mock-serious face, lifting a hand like he was swearing an oath. “I promise I’ll leave your snacks alone, for now. Deal?”

Milana giggled, the tension from earlier completely gone. “Deal,” she agreed, her voice soft and light. She stuck her pinkie out playfully, reaching up so he could lock his larger one onto hers, giving a small tug just so he looked at her. She stuck out her lips, exaggerating with big doe eyes staring expectantly at him, and he was more than happy to oblige with a kiss.

There was a pause, the air between them charged with an easy, comfortable intimacy. Ony’s expression softened, and he looked at her with more seriousness than before. “But really, Milana… I want to be better. I want to always be there for you, even on the days I’m not perfect. I want us to grow together.”

Milana’s heart skipped a beat, feeling a sudden urge to be closer. She shuffled a bit, but fell into his arms comfortably as he caught her, voice low and steady when she responded. “I want that too. I want us to keep talking, keep figuring this out. And I want us to never stop laughing together. I don’t ever want that to change.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Ony shifted slightly, his hand moving to gently brush through her hair. Milana looked up at him, noticing the change in his demeanor. He wasn’t smiling as he usually was, his eyes distant for a brief moment before meeting hers with an almost vulnerable expression, and she could tell something was on his mind.

“Ony," She prodded softly, her voice breaking through the quiet like a warm touch. “You don't have to keep it in anymore. I can tell you want to say something.”

He hesitated, his mouth opening but then closing again with a heavy sigh. He'd always found it hard to talk about the past. His childhood, his family—those were things he locked away, buried so deep that it felt like unearthing them would mean losing control. However, he reminded himself that Milana was different, and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to hide.

“Milana…” His voice cracked just slightly, and he cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told anyone this, but I didn’t get much affection growing up.” She didn’t say anything, simply nodding, her eyes soft as she took it in.

“You know my parents were separated before I was born?” Ony continued, his gaze now on the floor, feeling a bit of shame. “I never saw them together. I never saw them hug, kiss, nothing. The only time I ever saw them interact was when they had to talk about me, about what I needed… but that was just logistics, not love.” He paused, his mind reminiscing over the years, the emptiness.

“They couldn’t stand each other, and I was... just a part of the equation they couldn’t ignore. My dad…” He only shook his head, like he was trying to get the image of his father out of it. “My mom tried, I think, but... I was always a reminder of something that went wrong.” Ony’s voice was tight, almost like a knot he was trying to unravel but couldn't. “Everytime they were in the same room they were arguing. So I guess... I just thought that shit was normal.”

Milana’s heart ached, and she reached out, her hand finding his. She didn’t say anything, just let her fingers brush against his, grounding him, giving him the space he needed. “That’s why…” Ony swallowed, blinking hard as if the words were lodged in his throat. “That’s why I need affection. I crave it, Milana. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like a hole inside of me, one that... no one ever filled. Not my parents, not anyone.”

Milana squeezed onto him tighter, her thumb tracing over his knuckles as she gently held his hand. “Ony, you don’t have to apologize for that. You’ve been through things that most people can’t imagine. It’s okay to want affection. It’s okay to need it.”

He shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping him. “I know. But it’s not just that I want it. I want it from you. All the time. I want to feel like someone cares about me the way I never saw anyone care about each other when I was a kid.” His voice faltered. “And I don’t know what to do about that.”

Milana pulled him toward her, wrapping her arms around him, holding him close as if she could erase the years of neglect and distance from his life with just a simple embrace. Her hands clinging to him like she needed him too. She didn’t ask him to be anything other than himself. She didn’t question his need for love or affection. She just offered him what he’d never had: connection, warmth, and the silent promise that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“You don’t have to do anything but hold me.” Ony’s body relaxed into her arms, his heart beating a little steadier as he felt the weight of his past start to loosen. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to be held without the fear that he would suffocate someone in the process. And in that moment, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t broken after all.

“So I guess that means I can’t get rid of you, huh?” He just couldn’t stop trying to make her smile even for a moment, using the time to commit her to memory, wanting to bask in this feeling forever.

Milana laughed softly, lifting her head to look at him. “Nope. If anything, I’m going to make sure you get all the hugs and kisses you need.”

Ony chuckled, pulling her in for a slow, lingering kiss. As their lips met, Milana realized that this moment—this conversation—was a turning point. And as they broke the kiss, Milana whispered, “I’ll always be here for you, Ony. You don’t ever have to worry about that.” He smiled, his eyes softening with affection.

“I know. And it feels really good.”

More of Milana here 🎀