#Hoping this brings a smile to someone's face the way you all have been doing for me :>

[smutoperator]

Snake Charmer

Kim Minjeong (Winter) x Male Reader

Tags: arabian nights, belly bulging, belly dancer, blowjob, creampie, cum on midriff, fast-paced sex, footjob, loud sex, quickie, snake (literally and figuratevelly), stripping

Word count: 3164

It was a cold, lonely night in the desert. Nobody seemed to be in your sight, just an endless horizon full of sand. You were so desperate that you started seeing what looked like a tent playing an electronic beat as if a rave was playing inside it. Surely it must have been a mirage, you thought.

As you entered the tent, you saw a girl performing in an outfit that left her belly very exposed.

The girl dancer performed the electronic song in a way that made her look like those belly dancers coming straight from those Arabian nights tales. Soon, she grabbed a black mamba snake from a basket and started playing with it, showing no fear and handling it like it was just a walk in the park.

The dancer kept playing with the snake as she continued her performance, her cuteness contrasting with the bulky reptile that ran through her body. Her midriff moved in such a sexy manner, meanwhile, her face was all smiles, a truly impressive duality that had you slowly falling in love with her.

The music stopped and the dancer finished her performance, immediately turning in your direction as she pushed the snake back into the basket. "Looks like I have an audience for today," she said. "That's quite rare here in the middle of the desert," she continued.

"Do you perform this dance every day?" you asked the dancer. "Yes, me and my friends do that every day hoping to charm someone to build a harem with us," she said. "Your friend? So you're not alone in this tent?" you ask her. "No, they had to go to the city, but they'll be back tomorrow morning," she answered.

"By the way, I haven't even asked your name yet," you said to her. "My name is Minjeong, but you can also call me Winter," she answered. "Winter, such a beautiful name," you said to her. "Thank you," she replied.

"Wanna watch me dance a little more?" Winter asked you. "Sure, do your thing," you told her. Winter resumed dancing, bringing the mamba back from the basket and running it all over her body once again. She teased you, making very seductive moves with her tummy that drove you insane, making you wonder how she hadn't found anyone yet to occupy that harem.

Winter shook her cute little ass a bit and then started taking off parts of her bedlah as the performance went on, starting with her top, leaving you shocked as she left her torso fully exposed to you while dancing, from her perky little tits all the way down to her sexy navel. She wrapped the snake around her midriff and then picked up a recipient with the shape of a magical lamp, pouring some oil over her fit body, leaving you in utter disbelief at the scene you were watching.

Winter continued to strip her bedlah off, next taking off her long skirt, leaving just her hip scarf. Soon enough, that was gone as well, leaving Winter wearing just a belly chain and a thong that could barely cover her genitalia, giving you a hand signal to come close to her.

Minjeong walked in your direction, getting her body on top of the couch you were sitting on, the black mamba now wrapped around her shoulders. "Looks like that's not the only snake I can charm," she said, running her hands over your already throbbing cock under your pants.

"Get up," Winter commanded as you two started sharing kisses. You still couldn't believe what was in front of your eyes, maybe it was just another mirage, but her touch felt amazing. She quickly took off your shirt, running her hands over your torso while you worshipped her beautiful midriff. You were much taller than her, meaning her sexy tummy rubbed all over your clothed crotch, building your erection even further and getting you increasingly hard as you two touched each other.

"Let me show you my snake-charming abilities," Winter said, getting on her knees and pulling your pants down, unveiling your already throbbing anaconda. She teased it very slowly, giving a couple of licks to the tip of your cock, which were already driving you insane.

It didn't take long for Minjeong to make faster moves, performing an impressive no-hands blowjob as she slowly put more and more of your length in her mouth, reaching closer to a third of it as she sensually moved her body while sucking your cock, making her belly chain produce a rattling sound that turned you on even further.

Winter deepthroated your cock for the first time. "Such a delicious snake," she said once she finished it, switching from her slow-paced blowjob into a fast-paced one coupled with jerking off of your cock while staring at you with her puppy eyes.

Minjeong spat all over your cock as she continued to suck it off, now moving into the side of your shaft, before licking your tip like she was eating ice cream, then diving down to your balls while stroking that anaconda, switching to a little hand massage on your shaft before moving back to a no-hands cocksucking that she finished with an impeccable deepthroat.

"Oh shit," you groaned as Minjeong's deepthroat sent shivers down your spine. She rubbed her hands on your torso as she kept bobbing her head on your cock, giving special attention to the tip and deepthroating your shaft from time to time, making it wetter and wetter with lots of spitting.

Winter got back up and started kissing you again, the tip of your cock rubbing against her navel as your bodies collided with each other. You reached your hands into her pink pussy for the first time, making her let out some soft moans. "I'll let you do anything with me today, I'm all yours, I want you to join this harem," she said.

"Sit down, you're in for a treat tonight," Winter told you as you lay back on the couch. She quickly dove into your balls, ready to start another round of her soft yet amazing blowjob with her beautiful cute mouth, licking your shaft from top to bottom and then making rounds around the tip.

Winter jerks off your cock. "So big, so nice, can't wait to get this ready for my pussy," she says, licking your tip a little more then bobbing her head up and down it, going slowly deeper into it as she keeps spitting on your cock. "Your dick is so nice and big, I've been waiting to have one of these in my mouth for so long," she says as she moves her tongue around your shaft, before teasing it as she rubs your cock around her navel, getting you to throb even more.

"Oh my God," you groan as Winter circles your cock around. "Do you want to get it in my pussy?" she asks. "Oh fuck, definitely," you answer her as she continues to suck it off.

"Let's get it a little bit harder, shall we?" Winter says as she starts stroking your shaft with her beautiful feet. "Fuck, that's such a good massage," you tell her as she quickly moves her toes around your cock, making your tip pop in and out of your foreskin. "Fuck, that feels so good, just keep going, keep stroking that cock," you tell her, Winter smiling as your cock is throbbing red now.

You thrust into Minjeong's feet, making her very excited. "I want you to do this in my pussy," she says, circling her toes around your cock as you move your hips. She then puts her feet on top of your shaft, massaging them hard and pushing you to the edge, her long nails hitting the most sensitive parts of your tip.

"Oh yeah, it seems like this snake is finally big enough for me to sit on it," Winter proclaims as she lets you take your cock into her pussy, sitting on it in on go and bouncing hard on it. "OH YEAH, OH YEAH, OH SHIT," she moans as you impale her pussy hard. "SO GOOD, SO GOOD, YES, YES, AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHH, OH MY GOD," she screams, pressing her hands on your chest and quickly losing her breath as your big pole shapes the insides of her cunt.

But Winter stays committed, pushing hard even if your cock seems to feel a little too big for her. "AHHH FUCK, I CAN FEEL IT BULGING UNDER MY STOMACH, IT FEELS SO GOOD," Winter says, you two just closing your eyes and enjoying the ride. "YES I LIKE THAT SO MUCH, IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD," she continues to moan.

"Oh shit," you groan again as Winter's tight walls squeeze your cock. "You like that tight pussy?" she asks you as she keeps riding your cock, losing her breath as she can feel it right in her tummy. "OH SHIT, YES, LIKE THAT, LIKE THAT," she keeps begging and moaning, fingering her tight pussy and repeatedly opening and closing her legs as she moves all over your cock.

You can't resist and soon start thrusting into Minjeong's tight pink pussy. "OH I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING," she announces as you pump her pussy up. "OH YES BABY, FUCK THAT PUSSY," Winter commands, meeting your thrusts with bounces of her own. "FUCK YOU FEEL SO YUMMY IN MY TUMMY," she moans, feeling your monster bulge once again.

Winter pops your cock out of her pussy and gets herself in a missionary position. "I want you to see you bulging under my stomach, show me how deep your big cock can go inside me," she begs as you grab her left leg up and quickly put your cock back in her pussy. "AHHHHH," she instantly moans, caught by surprise as you attack her cunt at full speed from the start.

"OHHHHH FUCKKKK," Winter moans and grins her teeth as her body bounces hard with your fast thrusts. "You said you wanted it like that, don't complain now," you tell her as you thrust so hard your cock briefly pulls out of her pussy. "Yes, baby, keep going, wreck this tight little pussy," she begs, losing her breath as she speaks.

"AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, YES, YES, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, HARDER, HARDER," Winter begs as you use her body to your pleasure nonstop, your balls clapping hard against her clit as you deliver her some powerful thrusts. "FUCK BABY, OH MY GOD, FUCK ME HARD, AHHHHHH," she screams, sticking her tongue out like a begging puppy as you keep destroying her little pink pussy.

"OH MY GOD, MAKE ME TAKE IT, YES, YES, YES, POUND ME HARD," Winter pegs, you spreading her legs to the fullest and hitting her pussy at every different angle. "Oh fuck," you groan again before resuming destroying her cunt. "AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she screams, you teasing her rubbing your shaft in her clit briefly before putting it back inside her.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Winter screams so loud you're glad you two are in the middle of the desert with no one to hear it, you pushing her legs in the direction of her body and completely dominating me. "THE WAY YOU USE ME IS SO FUCKING GOOD, FUCK" she screams.

"AH YES, FUCKING MAKE ME TAKE IT," Winter screams as you use her pussy so hard you need a little break not to exhaust yourself, diving as you lick her pink hole and tongue her clit hard. "UHHHH YEAH, FUCK, YOU EAT MY PUSSY SO GOOD," she moans as your face gets buried into her entrance, making her legs shake, Minjeong massaging your back while she gets eaten out.

"Spread that asshole for me," you tell Winter, diving next into tonguing her pink anus, giving a couple of licks up into her pussy. "I want you to put your finger in my ass," she begs. You do as she asks, shoving your middle finger up Minjeong's butthole and massaging it.

"Damn it's tighter than your pussy," you tell her. "Yes, I've never been fucked in the ass, but I love the sensation of getting fingered in it, especially with you eating my pussy AHHHHH FUCK," Winter moans as she spreads her legs and lets you please both her holes with your finger and your mouth. "Oh FUCK, IT FEELS LIKE I'M IN HEAVEN," she says as you give her the double stimulation she needs, Winter's flexible body contracting and trembling all over the couch.

Winter gets back on her knees, ready to suck your cock once more. But you have different plans, grabbing her hair and pounding her face as soon as she gets on her knees. "Oh fuck yes," you say, turning Winter's mouth into your free-use fuckhole as you watch her face turn red while your cock bulges under her cute cheeks.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," you groan as you make Winter gag on your cock, not holding back as her face gets plowed. You keep teasing her, slapping your cock in her tummy before going back to make her choke on it. Winter gets back up, hungry for more. "I need it back in my pussy," she begs, lifting one of her legs as she positions herself close to your lap.

Before getting your cock back in Winter's wonderful pussy, you tease it with a little slap in her entrance. Her pussy is so tight you struggle a bit to put it back in, but as soon as you do, you grab her right leg and start thrusting immediately. "OH FUCK," Winter moans as soon as she feels your cock back to shaping her inner walls.

Winter sexily looks in your eye as she wraps one of her hands around your neck, using the other hand to grab a curtain in the room as she tries to cope with your fast thrusts. You reciprocate and grab her neck. "FUCK YES, FUCK THAT LITTLE PUSSY, OH MY GOD I'M GONNA CUM, JUST FUCK ME, JUST FUCK ME PLEASE, I'M GONNA CUM, FUCKKKKK, AHHHHH," she moans loudly as you also finger her pussy.

"OH MY GOD, YES, YES, DON'T STOP," Winter begs as she starts to lose her balance. "AHHHH YES, FUCK, FUCK, OH MY GOD," Winter screams, trying to hold onto your body and the curtain at all costs as she turns into a screaming machine, your cock bulging under her belly more than ever. "OH, OH, OH, OH," she can't stop moaning, her walls taking the shape of your cock at each hard thrust you deliver into her pussy.

"YES, YES, YES, FUCK THAT PUSSY," Winter begs as you massage her clit hard and pushes her legs further upward, fucking her like a man on a mission. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, the more I hit that pussy the tighter it gets," you tell her. "AHHHHH FUCKKKK," she continues to scream.

Winter drops back to the couch as she's so overwhelmed with your poundings she can barely stay on her feet. She positions herself sideways, allowing you to penetrate her pussy in a spooning position. "OH GOD, AHHHHHHH," Winter screams as you quickly go back to clap her cheeks. "OH MY GOD IT'S SO FUCKING BIG," she keeps screaming, you getting crazier and crazier, attacking her pussy like there is no tomorrow and making her lose her breath. "Shit," you groan, still amazed by her pussy's tightness, more so as Winter's cunt starts queefing with your hard thrusts. "That's it, I'm gonna pound that pink pussy until I fucking cum inside it," you tell her.

"Bend over," you command to Winter as she gets on all fours on the couch. "Perfect," you tell her, grabbing her waist as you guide your cock back into her pussy. "Holy shit," you say as her tight hole wraps around your shaft one more time. "FUCK, THAT'S SO BIG," she screams again.

"Bounce on that cock" you tell Winter, letting her move her hips by herself. "Work those hips," you keep telling her as you start giving some slaps to her butt. "Oh yeah slap my ass," she tells you, closing her eyes and moaning as you time your spanking with the movement of her hips, Winter showing you her sexy abilities to move them just like when she was dancing for you moments ago.

"AHHHH FUCK, OH MY GOD YES," Minjeong screams as you grab her hair and spank her ass, she moves her hips the more you spank her, leading you to attempt to tame her with more fast thrusts as Winter keeps getting pounded into oblivion. "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE DESTROYING MY TIGHT LITTLE PUSSY," she screams.

"There you go, that's it, oh fuck," you groan as Winter keeps moving her hips. "OH GODDD," she screams as she works on your cock. "Yes, that's it, fuck, fuck, show me how much you like that big cock, cute little girl," you tell her as Winter switches into longer, deeper moves. "You like that?" she asks you. "Yes, baby, I love it," you answer her.

"Your big cock feels so good stretching my pussy," Winter tells you as she pushes you closer and closer to cumming. "Nice and slow, keep moving like that, I'm gonna cum, oh shit," you tell her. "Then I want you to cum in my yummy tummy," Winter tells you.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," you tell Winter just in time for her to flip herself around, offering you her beautiful belly to get covered in your white seed. "OHHHH SHITTTT," you loudly scream as endless ropes of cum cover Minjeong's midriff, you enjoying the work of art you left as you painted her tummy.

"I'm not done yet," you tell Winter. Your still hard cock finds its way to her pussy one more time. "I'm gonna cover this tight little pussy with cum too," you tell her. "Yes, please, baby, fill me up, AH, AH, AH, AH," Winter begs as you attack her pussy like crazy. "Fuck, Fuck," you groan. "YES, YES, YOU FEEL SO GOOD IN MY TUMMY," she says as your bulging prick pokes under her cum-covered belly.

"Fuck that was quick, I'm gonna cum again," you tell Winter, unleashing a second load in her tight pink pussy. "Holy shit, this was intense," Winter tells you as your cum oozes out of her cunt. "You can sleep here tonight, but make sure my unnies don't see you," she tells you. "Alright," you oblige, Winter indicating a place in the tent where you can hide.

The night passes by and a new day arrives. As you open your eyes, you see Minjeong once again with the snake wrapped around her body, but she's no longer alone. Three more girls surround you. One of them is already jerking your cock off, a tall woman with her big boobs already out in the open, who is also the first to speak.

"Welcome to your harem," she says.

[aspenmissing]

ʟᴇꜰᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4376 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ??

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ 1 || ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ 2

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ

JAYCE

The soft glow of Piltover's city lights filtered through the window, casting golden reflections across the nursery walls. Jayce stood near the crib, rocking back and forth in slow, steady motions, his arms cradling the small, fragile body of his newborn son.

Theon.

The name felt right the moment you had suggested it. A name that carried weight but also warmth. It had been only a few days since Theon came into the world, and yet Jayce already felt the magnitude of fatherhood pressing down on him. It wasn't the kind of weight that burdened—but rather one that reminded him that everything had changed.

And now, for the first time, you weren’t here. You had barely left Theon’s side since his birth, but exhaustion had finally overtaken you. With a reluctant kiss to Jayce’s cheek and a soft whisper of reassurance, you had retreated to rest, leaving him alone with their child for the first time.

Jayce had fought Hextech-fueled battles, debated before the Council, and faced the pressures of being Piltover’s Golden Boy—but nothing compared to this. The tiny bundle in his arms let out a soft noise, a little whimper, and Jayce felt panic surge in his chest.

"Hey, hey... it's okay, buddy," he murmured, shifting Theon slightly, his large hands adjusting awkwardly but carefully. His son’s face scrunched up, his tiny fists waving in the air, as if protesting whatever discomfort he was feeling. "I’ve got you. I promise."

Theon's tiny, warm body fit against him so perfectly. He was so small. So impossibly small. Jayce exhaled, pressing his lips to the crown of his son’s head, his heart thudding in his chest as he tried to shake the uncertainty clinging to him.

He had never felt more unprepared for something in his life.

"I don’t really know what I’m doing yet, but..." He let out a soft chuckle, the weight of the moment settling deeper in his bones. "I swear I’ll figure it out."

Theon gurgled, his little hands twitching before settling against Jayce’s chest, his breathing evening out once more. Jayce swayed gently, looking down at him in awe. This was his son. His and yours. A piece of both of you, wrapped in warmth, in innocence, in all the hope that a future could bring.

The responsibility was terrifying—but it was also everything.

Jayce let out a slow breath and shifted his grip slightly, adjusting Theon in his arms. He gently ran a hand over the fine wisps of hair covering his son's head, marveling at the softness of it. His son’s skin was so smooth, his breaths light and even against Jayce’s chest. Every small movement felt like an entire world shifting in his arms.

"You’re lucky, you know?" Jayce whispered, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the city beyond the window. "You have the best mom in the world. She’s gonna teach you so much. And me? Well... I’m still figuring this out. But I swear, I’m gonna be the best dad I can be."

He sighed, rocking slightly in place, letting the silence settle between them. A faint smile touched his lips as he imagined the future—Theon’s first steps, his first words, the way he’d grow into someone brilliant and strong, just like his mother. He wondered if Theon would inherit your kindness, your stubborn streak, the way you could always see the best in people.

"I hope you get her patience, kid. Because let’s be real, you’re gonna need it with me."

Theon shifted slightly, his tiny fingers twitching against Jayce’s chest. Jayce felt his heart tighten, overwhelmed with an emotion too vast to name. This was love in its purest form—unshakable, boundless, the kind of devotion that settled deep in the bones and never left.

With one last lingering look at the sleeping child in his arms, Jayce shifted toward the rocking chair, easing down carefully so as not to disturb Theon’s peaceful slumber. He traced a fingertip along the curve of his son’s cheek, his heart swelling in a way that made his throat tighten.

"You’re gonna be okay," he whispered, voice soft but sure. "Because I’ll always be here. No matter what."

And as the city hummed outside, as the world beyond their walls continued on, Jayce held his son close, letting the quiet promise settle between them.

VIKTOR

The soft glow of the lamp flickered, casting long shadows across the quiet room. Viktor shifted slightly, leaning on his cane as he gazed down at the tiny bundle cradled in his arms. Nikola. His child. His and Y/N’s.

The thought still sent a shiver through him, one of disbelief and awe. He had spent so long immersed in progress, in science, in the pursuit of understanding the world’s mysteries. Yet, here was a mystery more profound than anything he had ever encountered—a small, warm, fragile being, barely days old, now curled against his chest, trusting him entirely.

���Ah, little one,” Viktor murmured, his accent thick with emotion, “it seems it is just you and I tonight.”

Y/N had finally succumbed to exhaustion and was fast asleep in their shared bed. She had insisted she would stay up, but Viktor had gently persuaded her otherwise. She had done so much, carried so much, brought Nikola into this world with a strength that left him speechless. The least he could do was hold their child for a little while longer, allowing her some rest.

Nikola stirred, letting out a tiny, barely-there whimper. Viktor’s breath hitched. He had faced great challenges in his life, but this—this small sound of distress from his child—sent his heart racing. He adjusted his hold carefully, mindful of his weaker leg as he settled into the armchair by the window. The city lights of Piltover shimmered in the distance, and for once, he paid them no mind. The only light that mattered was the one nestled against him.

He rocked the baby gently, uncertain but careful, his hand supporting the delicate weight of Nikola’s tiny back. His touch was hesitant at first, afraid that he was too rough, too clumsy. But then, as the minutes passed, he felt Nikola relax, their little body molding against him as if this was where they belonged.

His heart clenched.

A father. He was a father now.

Would he be enough? Could he be? He was not the strongest, nor the most stable, not in body, and often, not in mind. He had always been consumed by his work, by the ceaseless hunger to be more. And yet… here in this moment, none of that mattered. Here, all that mattered was the steady rise and fall of his child’s breath, the faint warmth of their tiny fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You have me utterly defeated, Nikola,” he whispered, brushing the lightest of kisses against the baby’s forehead. “And I surrender gladly.”

Nikola sighed in their sleep, their tiny fist pressing against his chest. Viktor swallowed hard, adjusting his grip slightly as he traced the curve of their small face with his thumb. They were so impossibly small. He had spent years perfecting intricate inventions, but nothing had ever felt as delicate, as precious, as this.

The quiet stretched on, filled only with the occasional creak of the chair and the soft sounds of Nikola’s breathing. Viktor let his eyes drift closed for a moment, letting the peace wash over him.

When he opened them again, he found himself whispering words he had never spoken aloud before.

“I do not know what kind of father I will be,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath, “but I will be here. I will love you. Always.”

Nikola stirred but did not wake. Viktor smiled softly, allowing his body to relax against the chair. He would stay like this for a while longer, just him and his child, in the quiet safety of their home.

For the first time in a long time, Viktor felt no rush to move forward. No need to chase the future.

Because, at last, the most important part of his life was right here in his arms.

JAYVIK

Viktor adjusted his brace as he shifted to sit more comfortably on the floor beside Jayce, their new-born daughter, Lina, wiggling happily between them on a thick, plush blanket. Y/N had left them to run a few errands, and now, the two men found themselves alone with their child for the first time.

Lina cooed, her tiny hands reaching toward the air as if grasping at the faint sunlight filtering through the workshop window. Her bright eyes darted between her two fathers, and then she let out an excited squeal, kicking her little legs in delight.

Jayce chuckled. "She's got some strong lungs, huh?"

Viktor smirked, watching Lina with a look of awe. "That is an understatement. She is already making her presence known—just like her parents."

Jayce leaned down, his large hands gently adjusting the blanket around Lina. "You think she'll take after you? Smart, inventive, a little stubborn?"

Viktor tilted his head. "And what if she takes after you? Charismatic, ambitious, and, of course, reckless?"

"Reckless?" Jayce scoffed playfully. "I prefer bold."

Lina giggled as if entertained by their banter, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling. Viktor's gaze softened, and despite his usual careful movements, he hesitantly reached out, his fingers ghosting over Lina’s small hand before finally letting the infant wrap around his index finger.

A warmth spread through Viktor’s chest. He had built many things in his life—machines, inventions, theories that shaped Piltover—but none of them compared to this tiny, breathing miracle before him.

"Here, let me help," Jayce said as he scooted closer, reaching out.

Viktor gave him a mock-exasperated look. "Are you implying I am not capable?"

Jayce smirked. "Just saying—it wouldn’t hurt to have a little support."

Despite his teasing, he carefully adjusted Viktor’s brace to give him better leverage, making it easier for him to lean forward without straining too much. Together, they carefully scooped up Lina, Viktor cradling her first while Jayce hovered, ready to assist.

The baby gurgled, perfectly content in her father’s arms. Viktor swallowed hard, something unspoken in his amber eyes as he met Jayce’s gaze.

"You okay?" Jayce asked softly.

Viktor nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought… I would hold something so fragile, so important."

Jayce reached over, his large hand covering Viktor’s where it supported Lina. "Well, now you have us. You're not doing this alone."

Viktor exhaled, a small, rare smile curling his lips. He looked down at Lina, who blinked up at them before yawning, her tiny body relaxing.

"Look at us," Viktor murmured. "The great inventors of Piltover, reduced to mere fools over a child."

Jayce chuckled. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

For a moment, there was nothing but the soft breaths of their daughter and the quiet understanding between them. Then, just as Lina began to doze, the door creaked open, and Y/N stepped in.

"You two survived?" Y/N teased, setting down their bags.

Jayce grinned. "Barely. But I think we managed."

Viktor gave Y/N a tired but content look. "She is quite the experiment—unpredictable, full of potential… and impossible to control."

Y/N chuckled as they leaned down, kissing Viktor’s temple and ruffling Jayce’s hair before pressing a soft kiss to their daughter’s forehead. "Sounds just like her fathers."

Jayce laughed, and Viktor hummed in amusement, all three of them watching as Lina let out a soft sigh in her sleep.

A new kind of invention. One they’d build together, one day at a time.

VANDER

Vander had never been afraid of holding a child before. He had cradled Vi and Powder as newborns, had soothed them through fevers, had taught them to walk, to fight, to survive. He was a father in all but blood to them, but this—this was different.

Ren was so small in his arms, barely bigger than one of his broad hands. Their tiny fingers curled and uncurled against his chest, their breath soft, warm, and utterly trusting. Vander had been certain he would be ready for this moment—he had prepared, after all. But now, alone in the dim light of the bar, the weight of his own child nestled against his heart, he found himself speechless.

A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped him as he traced a rough, calloused finger over the delicate line of their nose. “You’re a miracle, little one,” he murmured. “Didn’t think I had it in me, y’know?”

Ren yawned in response, their tiny mouth stretching wide before settling back into sleep. Vander smiled, the sight warming something deep in his chest. He had spent years protecting the children of Zaun, fighting for them, sacrificing for them, but this—this was a piece of him, of you. His own flesh and blood.

=

A loud creak signaled the opening of the Last Drop’s door, and Vander turned, grinning as one of his regulars stepped inside. He wasted no time.

“Oi, Mica—c’mere, c’mere.” He gestured eagerly with his free hand, his broad shoulders practically vibrating with excitement. “Look at this. Look at my kid.”

Mica blinked, stepping closer to peer at the tiny bundle in Vander’s arms. “Sweet Shimmer, Vander, you finally made one of your own, huh?”

“Damn right, I did,” Vander said, his chest swelling with pride. He shifted Ren just enough to give the old patron a better view. “Ain’t they perfect?”

Another patron wandered in, then another, and soon the small crowd had gathered around, all drawn in by the rare sight of Zaun’s protector reduced to a soft-spoken, doting father.

You had warned him not to overwhelm the baby, but Vander couldn’t help himself. He wanted everyone to see. He wanted the whole damn Undercity to know that Ren was here, that they were his. That they were loved.

And when the night deepened and the bar emptied, Vander stayed where he was, cradling Ren close, whispering quiet promises against their soft little forehead. Promises of protection, of warmth, of love. Of a future where they would never have to fight alone.

Because this time, Vander wasn’t just the protector of Zaun.

He was a father. And nothing in the world could take that away from him.

SILCO

The apartment above The Last Drop was quiet, save for the occasional distant murmur of Zaun’s nightlife below. The neon glow from the city seeped in through the window, casting shifting patterns across the walls. It was a stark contrast to the usual clamor of the bar beneath them, to the world Silco commanded with an iron will.

But up here? Up here, there was peace. A kind of peace he had never known before. Because now, nestled securely in his arms, was something far more precious than power.

Veyna.

His daughter.

She was barely a few weeks old, her tiny hands curling and uncurling against the fabric of his vest. He sat in his office chair, his usual place of scheming and strategy, but now? It was something else entirely. A sanctuary. A place where the weight of ambition gave way to something far softer, something warmer—the quiet breaths of his newborn.

Behind the closed bedroom door, Y/N was asleep, exhaustion having claimed her after yet another long night. He had told her to rest, promised he would look after Veyna while she slept. And he kept his promises.

She had been fussy at first, stirring in her bassinet as if sensing Y/N’s absence. But the moment he had scooped her up into his arms, she had settled, her tiny form curling into his chest like she belonged there.

Which, of course, she did. She was so small. So delicate. So innocent. And she was his.

He traced a finger down her cheek, marvelling at how soft her skin was. The scarred and calloused hands that had built an empire, that had struck down enemies and shaped the future of Zaun, were now cradling something so… pure.

Veyna stirred, her little face scrunching up before relaxing again. Silco let out a quiet chuckle.

“Demanding, just like your mother,” he murmured, rocking her slightly.

There was something about holding her that steadied him, something that made the weight of the world feel distant, if only for a moment. He loved coming home to this—to her. To the soft, rhythmic thrum of her heartbeat against his chest, to the way her tiny fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, as if she already knew this was where she belonged.

And Silco—ruthless, cunning, feared by many—tightened his hold, as if she were the only thing in this world that truly mattered. The one thing he would protect above all else.

Because she was. Because she was his. And that was something no one could ever take from him.

A faint rustling came from her, followed by the tiniest sound—a whimper, barely above a whisper. Silco glanced down, watching as her little face twisted in discomfort, her tiny body shifting in his arms. He sighed through his nose, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“Hush, now, little one” he murmured, voice low and smooth, a tone he rarely used with anyone. "We don't want to wake your mother."

Carefully, he rose from his chair, adjusting her in his arms. The movement made her stir, but she settled quickly when he pressed her to his chest. One hand supporting her head, he strode across the dimly lit room, boots silent against the wooden floor, until he reached the large window overlooking Zaun.

His city.

It stretched beneath them, a sprawling, breathing thing—alive with neon lights and restless movement. Even in the dead of night, Zaun never truly slept. Pipes hissed, distant voices carried through the streets, and the ever-present hum of industry filled the air.

"This," he whispered, looking down at her, “is your home.”

His free hand reached for the latch, pushing the window open just slightly. The air that wafted in was thick with the scent of oil, smoke, and metal—a scent Silco had long since grown used to.

“I built this,” he continued, voice softer now. “For you. For your mother. For all of Zaun. A future free from the grasp of Piltover.”

Veyna made another small noise, shifting just enough to peek open unfocused, sleepy eyes. Silco huffed a quiet laugh, watching her face.

She wouldn’t understand, not yet.

But one day… one day, she would.

He turned his gaze back to the city, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly.

“You’ll come to know it as I do,” he promised. “Its beauty. Its cruelty. But you, little one… you will never have to fight for your place in it. Because it’s already yours.”

She let out a soft sigh, her tiny fingers curling against the fabric of his vest once more.

Silco pressed another lingering kiss to her forehead before shutting the window, sealing them both in the quiet warmth of his office. For now, she didn’t need to know the weight of the world. For now, she only needed this.

Him.

And he would give her that, for as long as he could.

EKKO

The world outside their small home in the Firelights’ hidden sanctuary pulsed with life. The soft glow of lanterns swayed with the shifting air currents in the underground tunnels, their light casting flickering patterns against the walls. From a distance, the familiar hum of hoverboards echoed—young Firelights weaving through the metal and stone of their hideout, their laughter mixing with the occasional crackle of an old, half-broken radio sputtering music from a forgotten age.

But inside their home, the world was still. Ekko stood frozen, barely breathing, his arms wrapped around the impossibly tiny bundle cradled against his chest.

Nia.

His daughter. His and Y/N’s daughter.

Her presence was both familiar and alien all at once. She was small, delicate, warm—an entire future wrapped in soft blankets, her tiny hands curled into delicate fists. She had Y/N’s nose, his deep brown complexion, and when her eyes flickered open—just for a second—he could see a glimpse of something bigger than either of them staring back at him.

Y/N had only left for a little while—just to step outside, just for a breath of fresh air after the exhausting whirlwind of childbirth and sleepless nights. “You got this,” she had whispered, pressing a lingering kiss against his temple before slipping through the door, her touch grounding him for just a moment.

But now, standing here alone with their newborn daughter, Ekko wasn’t sure he did have this.

He had faced enemies twice his size, led the Firelights against the worst of Zaun’s threats, and survived things that would haunt him forever. He had taken beatings, stolen from those who would kill him if they caught him, and carried the weight of an entire rebellion on his back.

But this?

This was different. This was fragile. Precious. This was something he couldn’t afford to mess up.

Nia stirred against him, shifting in his arms, a soft, breathy gurgle escaping her lips. One of her tiny hands twitched, fingers uncurling before gripping onto the loose fabric of his shirt.

Ekko held his breath.

“Uh… hey, baby girl,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, afraid too much noise might break the delicate moment between them. “It’s just me and you now.”

Nia didn’t respond—obviously. But she blinked up at him, eyes big and unfocused, her soft face scrunching up as she worked through whatever newborn thoughts babies had.

A breathless chuckle escaped him, the corner of his lips tugging into a small smile. He shifted his hold slightly, carefully supporting her head the way Y/N had shown him so many times. He had watched her do it effortlessly, adjusting without even thinking, but now that it was his turn, everything felt impossibly complicated.

“I think we’re gonna be cool, right?” he tried, rocking her slightly. “Just don’t—uh—start crying. Please?”

Silence stretched between them for a heartbeat.

Then, as if sensing his hesitation, Nia’s lips trembled, her tiny face turning an alarming shade of red. Ekko’s stomach dropped.

“Wait—no, no, no, no—” A sharp, piercing wail tore through the quiet. Ekko panicked. His brain short-circuited, running in every possible direction at once. What was he supposed to do again?!

He bounced her a little, a movement he had seen Y/N do countless times, hoping it would work like magic. “Shhh, hey, hey—it’s alright, I got you, I got you,” he soothed, voice soft but uncertain.

No luck.

Her cries only grew louder, her tiny body wriggling against his hold, her distress clear in every shuddering sob. His mind scrambled for answers. Was she hungry? No—she had just eaten. Diaper? Maybe. Tired? Definitely.

“Okay, okay, uh—” He moved toward the small pile of supplies nearby, balancing Nia with one arm, fumbling clumsily with the blankets and spare cloths with the other. He felt like a fool, one wrong move away from dropping everything—including her.

“You’re good, Nia, Daddy’s got you,” he murmured, more to convince himself than anything else.

He paused.

Daddy.

The word felt strange in his mouth. Foreign. Unfamiliar. And yet, saying it aloud sent a slow, deep warmth curling through his chest.

He was a father.

Not just a leader, not just the boy who had once tried to outrun time itself, not just the kid who had watched everything around him fall apart.

A father.

A real one. A present one. Someone who would never leave, never abandon, never let his daughter grow up in a world that had already taken too much.

The weight of that realization settled on him like a heavy cloak, pressing down, grounding him.

Nia sniffled, her wails quieting for a brief moment as Ekko finally managed to tuck her into the soft swaddle again, wrapping her securely the way Y/N had taught him. He adjusted his grip, cradling her close to his chest, her tiny body warm and fragile in his hands.

Slowly, gently, he began to rock side to side, his movements instinctual now, his voice dropping to a quiet hum.

A song.

A melody from his childhood. Something old, something distant—a lullaby his mother used to sing before the world had stolen his innocence. The words were faint on his tongue, the memory blurred by time, but the rhythm, the feeling—it was still there.

Nia’s breathing slowed. Her fingers uncurled from his shirt. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

Ekko let out a deep breath, relief washing over him like a tide. He rested his forehead lightly against hers, his heart hammering against his ribs, overwhelmed and yet—oddly at peace.

“You got me wrapped around your tiny little fingers already, huh?” he murmured. The door creaked open.

Ekko looked up, caught in the soft glow of the moment as Y/N stepped inside. She looked exhausted—so exhausted—but the smile on her lips was nothing short of radiant.

She paused in the doorway, eyes flicking between him and their now-sleeping daughter, taking in the sight before her.

Ekko, rocking their child in his arms. The dim, golden light casting a halo around them, the soft lull of his voice still lingering in the air.

It was a picture she would never forget.

“How’d it go?” she asked, voice quiet.

Ekko glanced at her, his grip on Nia tightening just slightly, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. “Terrifying,” he admitted, his voice light but honest.

Y/N chuckled softly, stepping closer, pressing a gentle kiss against his cheek before brushing her fingers over Nia’s soft curls. “You did good,” she murmured.

Ekko leaned into her touch, his free arm slipping around her waist, pulling her close.

Maybe he didn’t have all the answers. Maybe raising a child in a world like theirs would be the hardest thing he’d ever do. But he had them.

His family.

And that was all he needed.

[supernotnatural2005]

'Happy Accidents'

Pairing: Dean x Plus!sized Reader

Summary: You haven't seen the Winchester's in over a year, but the case you're working has you scratching your head, and who better to call than some old friends. However, insecurities arise as well as the reprise of a long time crush. Little do you know, it's reciprocated.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/tags: Dry humping! (18+Only), fluff, mutual pinning, Plus!sized Reader, body insecurities, curvy girl appreciation, swearing.

AN: Okay so this is my first time writing for a more specific reader body type, but being a curvy-girl myself it was interesting to implement it into a story. And with Dean being the appreciator? Yes please! 😍 I know this might not cater to all of you, but I'm inclusive to all y'all ❤️ Also taking some inspo from @bejeweledinterludes post for this one and @zepskies Midnight Espresso series, which is honestly one of my favourite series and stories featuring a Plus!sized reader!! I do hope you guys like this one! 💕

Main Masterlist

You hadn’t seen the Winchesters in over a year.

Not since that hunt in Nebraska—the one that went sideways fast. The one that left you with a busted-up ankle and Dean with a fresh scar along his jawline. The one where, after all was said and done, you parted ways with an easy “See you around,” never expecting “around” to take this long to come back.

But when a case cropped up—one that twisted your gut with unease—you hadn’t hesitated. You picked up the phone and called the only people you trusted to have your back. If anyone could help, it was them.

And now, sitting in a dimly lit bar, waiting for them to arrive, your nerves were shot. Maybe it was the case. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d changed since they last saw you—since he last saw you.

That old, ridiculous crush on Dean Winchester hadn’t gone anywhere. That much had become painfully clear the moment he picked up the phone, his voice as deep, gravelly, and cocky as ever. But now, with time apart and the weight of your own insecurities pressing down, the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist.

You had always been curvier, carrying stubborn weight around your thighs, ass, and middle. But in the last year, you’d softened even more. Life had been quieter, with less running and fewer adrenaline-fuelled hunts. You were still strong, still capable, but you felt different. And you knew the type of women Dean gravitated toward—tall, slim, easy.

You were none of those things, and you never would be. And that was okay. But it was a niggling fact that had always lingered in the back of your mind, that had stung each time the three of you got together and you watched him charm someone else. Someone who wasn’t you.

A warm, unexpected hand on your shoulder brings you out of your darker thoughts, with a slight gasp, startling you a little.

“Easy there, sweetheart.”

You turned, heart stuttering as Dean stood there, grinning down at you like no time had passed at all. And damn it all, he looked the same—scruffy and stupidly handsome in that effortless way of his, jeans snug on his hips, flannel worn open over a snug black tee. Sam stood just behind him, offering you a softer, more knowing smile.

“Hey, boys,” you manage, hoping the warmth creeping up your neck isn’t as obvious as it feels. You slip off the barstool, nerves buzzing, but force yourself to keep it together.

Dean’s eyes flick over you—quick, but thorough. For a split second, something unreadable flashes across his face, but it’s gone before you can place it.

“Missed us that bad, huh?” His smirk is pure Dean, cocky and teasing, slipping back into the easy rhythm of your old banter.

You roll your eyes, but are grateful for it. “Don’t flatter yourself, Winchester.”

But your voice is softer than you mean it to be, and when you turn to Sam, pulling him into a warm hug first, you feel Dean’s gaze linger.

Then you step up to him, hesitation curling in your chest—but before you can overthink it, his arms are around you, solid and warm, pulling you close like no time has passed at all.

That familiar scent—woody, spiced, edged with leather—wraps around you, grounding you, unraveling you. For a second longer than necessary, you let yourself sink into it, just this once.

The three of you settled into a booth once the bartender set down your drinks. Sam took the seat across from you, while Dean slid in next to you, his presence a little too warm, a little too distracting.

“So,” Sam started, taking a sip of his beer. “What are we looking at?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “A few people have gone missing over the last month—no bodies, no traces, just… gone. I’ve ruled out everything I know of. There’s no signs of a struggle, no sulphur, no EMF spikes. It’s like they just vanished into thin air.”

Dean frowned, brows knitting together. “And no patterns? No connection between them?”

“None that I could find.” You shook your head. “That’s why I called you guys. I was hoping fresh eyes might help.”

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, both equally puzzled but already slipping into hunter mode.

“Well, we’re here now,” Sam said, ever the problem solver. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, feeling some of the weight lift. “We’ll go over everything in more detail tomorrow. Tonight…” You glanced between them, the tension of the case momentarily fading. “It’s just good to see you both.”

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed warmly, raising his bottle. “To old friends.”

You clinked beers with him, and Dean followed suit, but as your bottles met, his eyes locked onto yours. There was something there—something lingering, unreadable, sending a flicker of warmth through you. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone, masked behind an easy sip of his beer. You swallowed, shaking it off as nothing more than a trick of your mind.

The more the beers flowed, the easier it got. You caught up, swapped stories, and fell into familiar rhythms.

Dean was as quick with his smart-ass remarks as ever, and the two of you naturally fell into your usual back-and-forth. Sam, as always, was the long-suffering audience to your antics.

At one point, you and Dean tag-teamed a particularly brutal roast of Sam—this time about the time he’d gotten sick on a case and tried to insist he was totally fine, only to end up passing out face-first into a hotel’s continental breakfast buffet.

“Oh, come on,” Sam groaned, shaking his head as you and Dean laughed. “That was years ago.”

“And yet,” you grinned, “I can still hear the sound of your face hitting that tray of scrambled eggs.”

Dean snorted, nudging his knee against yours under the table. “Dude, you took out the whole table. That poor old lady thought you died.”

Sam huffed, rolling his eyes as he pushed his beer away. “Yeah, and that’s my cue. I’ve had enough of you two for one night.”

You laughed, but before you could say anything, Sam stood, shaking his head. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” He pulled you into a quick, brotherly hug, and you squeezed back.

“Night, Sammy,” you murmured, watching as he strode toward the door, leaving you alone with Dean.

You half-expected him to call it a night too, but instead, Dean didn’t move. If anything, the second Sam walked out, he seemed to settle in more, arm stretching along the back of the booth, fingers barely grazing your shoulder. The casual touch sent a ripple of awareness through you, but you forced yourself to act normal, reaching for your drink instead of acknowledging the way your heart had picked up speed.

“I think I’ll stick around a little longer,” he said casually, surprising you.

Your heart kicked up a notch, but you welcomed the company. “Yeah?”

Dean smirked. “Yeah. We got a lot of catching up to do.”

And so you did. The conversation flowed effortlessly, laughter slipping in between shared memories and stories of the road. Some cases were so bizarre they barely seemed real, and a few had you nearly crying with laughter. Time seemed to pass in a blink of an eye, the bar thinning out around you, and you barely noticed.

At some point, Dean just sat back and looked at you. Really looked at you. His expression softened, head tilting slightly as he took you in, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, he shook his head and muttered, “Damn, it’s really good to see you.”

The sincerity in his voice knocked the breath from your lungs.

Your lips parted, a response on the tip of your tongue, but nothing came out.

Dean huffed a small laugh, eyes still studying you like he was committing you to memory. “You look good, too.”

The words weren’t rushed, weren’t casual or offhanded. They were steady, like a thought he’d been holding onto for a while.

Heat crept up your neck, and you let out a small, nervous chuckle, dropping your gaze to your drink as you toyed with the condensation on the glass. “Yeah, okay.”

Dean shifted, leaning in just a little, enough that the space between you felt smaller, more intimate. “I mean it,” he said, quieter this time, voice dipping low.

All you could think was; what the hell is happening here?

Dean had never been like this with you before. Sure, he flirted—it was second nature to him—but not like this. At least that’s what you’d always believed. Had you just never noticed? Had you missed the way he looked at you before? Or had something changed?

Swallowing, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, only to find his eyes sweeping over you—slow, deliberate. No hesitation. No teasing. Just appreciation.

His gaze flickered to your lips.

The air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken, something you weren’t sure you were ready for, but part of you wanted to reach for it anyway.

Then—

“Last call!”

The bartender’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.

You exhaled sharply, the moment shattering as you snapped back to reality. A part of you wanted to stay frozen in it, let whatever this was between you and Dean unravel, but instead, you reached for the safest thing to say. "We should head back."

Dean nodded, standing with you, hands shoving into his jacket pockets. But even as you stepped out into the crisp night air, the tension didn’t fade. If anything, it followed you like a shadow.

The walk back to the motel was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the crunch of gravel under your boots. The air was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat still thrumming under your skin. You kept sneaking glances at Dean, only to find him already looking at you, eyes dark, thoughtful, unreadable.

He was close—not touching, but his presence was all-consuming. The scent of leather and whiskey clung to him, mixing with the crisp night air, making your stomach twist with anticipation.

When you finally reached your door, you hesitated.

"Well… this is me," you said, voice coming out lighter than you intended, a small, nervous chuckle slipping past your lips.

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile as he looked down at you. "Yeah."

But neither of you moved.

The air shifted again, crackling with something dangerous, something inevitable.

Dean’s gaze flickered lower—tracing the curve of your mouth, watching as you unconsciously pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. His pupils dilated. His breath hitched and something in his expression darkened.

"Fuck it."

The words barely left his lips before he was on you, crashing into you with a hunger that sent you stumbling back against the door. The force of it stole your breath, his mouth devouring yours, needy, desperate, like he’d been holding himself back for years and finally gave in.

A muffled sound of surprise left you, swallowed instantly by his lips, but it only took a second before you melted into him, your fingers fisting the open lapels of his jacket, anchoring yourself against him.

It was hot and messy, all teeth and tongue, the kind of kiss that left you lightheaded and aching. His hands were everywhere—gripping, pulling, claiming—sliding over your hips, your back, fingers digging into your flesh like he never wanted to let go.

You fumbled for the door behind you, barely registering how you managed to get it open before tugging him inside.

Dean groaned against your mouth as the door clicked shut, his hands already working your jacket off your shoulders. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this," he murmured against your lips, voice rough, breathless.

Your stomach flipped, your heart fluttering at the implication—the confirmation that this wasn’t just heat-of-the-moment lust. This was Dean. Wanting you. For who knew how long.

A moan slipped past your lips in response because forming actual words wasn’t an option—not with his hands gripping you tighter, not with the way he was kissing you like he was starving.

You barely noticed when you reached the little loveseat, your room provided, until the back of his knees hit it. Taking advantage of his momentary imbalance, you shoved him down onto it and climbed into his lap.

Dean groaned, head tipping back slightly as his hands found your hips, gripping tight. Touching you like he’d always wanted to. His fingers dug into the soft curve of your thighs, your ass, holding you like he couldn’t get enough.

You stiffened for half a second. The way his hands moulded to your body, the way he held you there so easily—so greedily—made your head spin.

You’d spent years second-guessing what guys thought when they touched you, wondering if they found you too much, too soft in places you’d been taught to shrink. The idea of straddling Dean, of all people, should’ve sent a jolt of insecurity through you. Should’ve had you hesitating.

But then Dean’s hands tightened—fingers pressing into your thighs, squeezing like he couldn’t stand not to have you closer. A deep, rough sound rumbled from his chest, his lips breaking from yours just long enough to groan, "Jesus—fuck."

The way he said it sent fire straight to your core.

He wanted you like this. Craved it. He wasn’t just tolerating the way your body pressed against him—he was obsessed with it.

As if to prove the point, his grip turned bruising, his hands dragging you even closer, pulling you down into him, despite the small part of you that feared you might be too much.

Dean grunted, his head dropping forward slightly, his forehead pressing to yours. "Goddamn, sweetheart."

A rush of confidence flooded through you, drowning out every lingering doubt.

And then you moved.

You rolled your hips, testing, teasing—just enough to feel the hard, undeniable evidence of how much he wanted this. Wanted you.

The friction was incredible, sending a bolt of pleasure up your spine, making you bite back a moan.

Dean’s breath hitched. His fingers dug into your flesh, his entire body going rigid.

That only made you do it again. Slower this time, deeper.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, his hands twitching on your thighs like he was trying to keep himself together.

"Fuck—" His voice was raw, strangled, almost pained.

You could feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle coiled tight as you ground against him, feeling the delicious pressure between you, the way his cock strained beneath his jeans, thick and hot against you.

Suddenly, his hands snapped up to your waist, gripping hard, stilling you.

You barely had a second to register it before—

Dean shuddered. His whole body tensed beneath you, a choked grunt ripping from his throat as his fingers dug into your flesh, his head tipping back against the couch.

He went still, and it took you a second to realise.

Dean Winchester had just cum in his jeans.

A rush of heat flooded his face, his expression shifting from shock to pure horror. He blinked up at you, wide-eyed, mortified.

"Oh, fuck." His voice was barely above a whisper, his hands still gripping your hips, as if he was trying to process what the hell had just happened.

Your lips parted in surprise. Then—a slow, wicked grin spread across your face.

"Did you just—?"

Dean groaned, head dropping back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. "Don’t. Just—don’t."

But you couldn’t help it. Because holy shit.

You’d just made Dean Winchester cum in his jeans.

If that wasn’t the biggest ego boost of your life, you didn’t know what was.

Leaning down, you pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, revelling in the way his breath stuttered. "That," you murmured, lips brushing against his ear, "is the best compliment I’ve ever gotten."

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he melted under your touch, his hands hesitantly sliding up your sides, gripping your waist like he needed to anchor himself. When he finally looked up at you, the humiliation still lingered, but something warmer, something softer, began to take its place.

His green eyes flickered over your face like he was memorising you. His throat bobbed with a swallow. Then, suddenly, he let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.

"God, I’m sorry," he huffed, running a hand down his face, still half-stunned. "You’re just—" His eyes swept over you, dark and reverent as his hands followed, tracing over the curve of your hips, the swell of your full breasts, the thickness of your thighs. His fingers flexed, like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed to feel every inch of you to believe this was real. "Fucking gorgeous."

Heat rushed to your face, your stomach flipping as you instinctively tried to shy away. But Dean was already there, his thumb pressing lightly under your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

"Hey," he murmured, his lips twitching into something wicked and sweet all at once. "Give me five minutes," his hands slid around the curve of your hips, then lower, grasping large handfuls of your ass, his fingers digging in like he couldn't help himself. He groaned, low and deep, pressing you closer, like he needed you to feel just how much he meant it. "And I’ll really show you how much I want you."

Your own lips curled, mirroring his. "Five minutes, huh?" You couldn’t help but hum as he kissed along the column of your throat, his lips soft and warm, his teeth grazing, sending a shiver down your spine.

His grip on you tightened, kneading the flesh beneath his hands, and another groan rumbled through his chest, when you shifted in his lap again and you felt the unmistakable twitch of him against you.

"Okay, make that two," he muttered, his voice rough with renewed hunger.

You laughed, and he grinned against your skin at the sound, before pulling you in and claiming your lips in a hot, deep kiss once more.

“Besides,” he mumbled between kisses, “I wanna sample the goods first, anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, about to retort, but then you squealed as he abruptly lifted you into his arms, carrying you over to the bed like you weighed nothing. With a playful smirk, he dropped you onto the mattress unceremoniously, making you bounce with a giggle.

Dean climbed in after you, hovering over you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his expression turning unexpectedly tender. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he admitted, voice quieter now, raw and honest.

Your heart fluttered.

"Then show me," you whispered.

And as his lips met yours again, slow and deep, Dean swore he’d take his damn time proving just how much he did.

AN: So this just popped into my mind, I hadn't planned on posting, but had to get it out 😅. I know this doesn't cater to everyone it's a little more reader specific, but, it's just another reason to love Dean! 😍

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel @piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse @impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

The One That Got Away

WC: 1.7k

WARNINGS: Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication

.

.

The plane lands and I step out into the California air. It’s been 6 years since I’ve set foot here, but the memories hit me like a brick wall. My ‘One That Got Away’ floods my mind. The perfect blonde hair and green eyes. The smug smirk he wore more often than not. I try to shake the thoughts out of my head. I remind myself, we are here for work. Not for Jake Seresin. Once I get in the rental car, I head to the site of my new coffee shop. I opened my first cafe 4 years ago back home in Austin. Sassy’s Books and Brews has taken off, expanding faster than I could have ever imagined. When my development team said California was the next move, the ache in my heart returned. It’s been 6 years and here I am, wondering if he still thinks about me.

.

.

My creative director hugs me outside of the cafe, “Y/n, this is amazing! It’s all come together. This is going to be a hit!” I chuckle nervously, “I hope so. How’s the social media response for the grand opening tomorrow?” She beams at me, “Ah-ma-zing. We already have 20k followers on the instagram ALONE!” I smile and scan the cafe over one last time. Checking my watch, I sigh, “I’m going to head to the hotel and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day. Thank you for everything, you’re outstanding.” At the hotel, I shut myself in the room and order room service. There’s a Harry Potter marathon on, so I fall asleep thinking about a magical world.

.

.

My alarm startles me awake. After hair, makeup, and changing my outfit ten times, I drive over for the big event. Local news is already filling the sidewalk out front. There is a line all the way around the corner. All the baristas are ready to go. I put on a large smile and open the doors, “Welcome to Sassy’s Books and Brews! C’mon in y’all!” I join my baristas behind the counter as the crowd files in. Part of me is wondering if he will walk in those doors. Another part of me is angry at myself for even entertaining the thought. I focus on keeping the line moving, pushing Jake out of my mind. We are busy all day long, so I make sure each barista gets the breaks they need. The team here is amazing and I have no doubt they have what it takes to keep the shop running smooth. There’s finally a moment of calm around 8 pm, right before closing. I send the baristas home, thanking them for their work today. There are a few people sitting around, reading and chatting. A smile spread across my face as I remember the day I decided to open these cafes. My dream was to have a place where everyone felt at home, surrounded by literature and good drinks. The door chime brings me back to reality, I look up only to meet those green eyes. Jake smirks as he walks towards the counter, “I had to stop by to see if it was really you.” I lean on the counter, “Well Jake, here I am. Can I get you anything?” “I’ll take a black coffee.” He tries to hand me cash but I refuse, “It’s on the house.” I hand him his coffee and he raises an eyebrow, “How have you been? Your hair is darker.” “I’ve been good. Yourself?” He shrugs, “Same here. It’s been a long time, Y/n.” I look down at my hands, “Yes it has.” He leans in, “Mom called when you opened your first cafe. Said she goes there all the time.” Nodding, I smile, “She does. Always makes my day seeing Cyndy.” He rubs his hand through his hair, “When do you close? Maybe we could go somewhere and… catch up?” For a moment I want to say yes, but then the memories of the heartbreak resurface. I swallow the lump in my throat, “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Jake.” Sadness washes over his face, “Well, I’ll see you around. Thank you for the coffee.” As I watch him walk away, my heart aches. How can I be angry at someone and still want them at the same time?

.

.

Jake stops by the shop every morning for the rest of the week. Every time I see him walking up, I make myself busy in the back. I’m only here for the next few weeks to make sure the shop starts off on the right foot, then I can go home and leave these thoughts of Jake behind. It’s Friday night, right before closing and I send the rest of the staff home. Lots of people are sitting around, playing board games and laughing. I get comfy behind the counter, rereading Sherlock for the umpteenth time. “Evening, Y/n. Long week?” Jake smiles as I stand up, getting him a black coffee, “Very. Happy about the turnout.” He takes a sip, “Any chance we could talk?” I check my watch, “We close in 5 minutes, you could hang around while I clean up.” A smile spreads across his whole face. People head out and I flip the open sign to closed, starting the long process of cleaning the machines and shutting everything off for the night. Jake clears his throat, “I’ve missed you.” I sigh, “Jake…” “Not just like that. You were my best friend for as long as I can remember. When our relationship ended, I wasn’t ready for our friendship to end too.” Tears start to form in my eyes and I turn away from him, “I didn’t know how to go back to best friends.” “Did you get my letters?” When I finally meet his eyes again, they’re searching mine for any answer. I nod. “Did you read them?” I shake my head. The stack of letters is in a box in my office. Unopened. Unread. The only guy I had dated that I thought could work found them one day. He broke up with me, saying that I wouldn’t have kept them if I didn’t care about him. I fiddle with the espresso machine, “I have them. I just couldn’t read them, Jake.” He walks behind the counter, wiping the tear that fell down my cheek. His touch sends a shiver down my spine. It always has. His voice lowers, “Just tell me why.”

.

.

*6 years before*

Our love story was like a cheesy movie. We grew up together. Jake was 2 years older than me. Wherever he went, I followed. All throughout school, our neighborhood, even summer vacations. Jake and Y/n. Our Mom’s always joked that we would grow up and get married. When we were young we’d respond, “Ewww!!!!”. But as we got older, the feelings started to change. My crush on Jake grew and grew. He went to college at UT, then a couple years later I got accepted too. He helped me set up my freshman dorm and he looked different. More toned. More tan. Jake was no longer the tall and awkward teenage boy, but a strong and beautiful man. I didn’t know how he felt about me. I was too scared to ask him. Jake was so popular around campus, he could have any girl he wanted. One night I was walking back to my dorm crying. Some boy had asked me out, but never showed up at the restaurant. I was so embarrassed. Jake was coming out of the library when he ran up to me. He took me back to his apartment and he turned on one of our favorite movies to make me feel better. That night, he looked at me different. There was something in his eyes. That’s when he kissed me for the first time. The rest was history. When he graduated, he went off to boot camp and started his military career. I was so proud of him. He wrote to me whenever he could. He even made it back for my graduation, just to surprise me. But that night, everything changed. Jake told me about his new dream, being a Navy Pilot. I smiled, “Where will you be out of? Corpus?” He looked down, “Florida for a few weeks. Then I want to go to Top Gun… in California.” My brain tried to figure out a new plan. One where I could keep my new job I was so excited about, but somehow be wherever Jake is. The panic set in and he grabbed my hands, “Marry me. I don’t have a ring but I’ll get you one. Come with me, please.” Tears filled my eyes, “Jake… I… I can’t.” He stood there, shocked, as I ran away crying.

.

.

*Present day*

I take a deep breath, “I came here looking for you, Jake. 6 years ago. Cyndy told me where to find you. When I got to the bar, I saw you taking a girl back to your truck. Y’all left. I figured you had moved on and I couldn’t be angry at you because I was the one that ended everything. So I went back home.” His eyes well up, “I’m an idiot. Some rebound, one night stand kept the love of my life away?” I whisper, “I didn’t know. Jake, I was so scared.” He put his face in his hands, “I’m the one that changed the plan. I was gonna stay in Texas. We could’ve been together. I just fell in love with flying. I’m sorry.” I place my hand on his shoulder, “Don’t apologize, Jake. I am happy for you. You wouldn’t have been happy if you stayed in Texas.” His green eyes meet mine, “But I would have you.” “We were kids. Who knows if we would’ve made it.” He rests his hand on top of mine, “Do you have someone?” I shake my head, thinking of all of my failed relationships since Jake. He thinks for a moment, “Why?” I close my eyes, debating whether or not I want to tell him. My heart wins the argument against my brain, “Because none of them were you.”

[racoon3lizabeth]

wolfstar band au ✮ word count: 936 ✮ not proofread

“Another question for Sirius,” the reporter said, clicking her pen and drumming it against her clipboard. Like many other reporters she seemed to be enraptured by his mere presence and forgets all of the questions she had so diligently prepared beforehand.

With a great loud slightly dramatic sigh Sirius leaned back into his chair. “Right, shoot.” He smiled, clasping his hands in his lap.

The reporter's eyes twinkled with glee and looked straight at him. Almost completely ignoring the other three band members.

“In your most recent album there’s a song in which your lyrics have been rumoured to be about someone specific. Is there really anyone special and who might that be?”

Sirius sent Remus a sideways glance. Fiddling with the silver rings on his fingers as he dared to look back at the nosy reporter. “Yes, there might be someone.” He replied.

“Oh?” She asked. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

All four of them quietened down. The only sound now being the reporters scribbling as she tried to catch up with everything that they had previously said.

“Well,” James cleared his throat. “Does it really matter?” He asked and hoped that maybe, just maybe, the reporter would get the hint.

But unfortunately not. She seemed completely oblivious to Sirius' certain preferences. She still kept looking at all of them expectantly, not wanting to intrude but knowing that it would make great headlines.

Remus' gaze darted over Sirius' hesitant face. How he kept biting his inner cheek and never stopped fiddling with his hands. If he could he would reach out and slowly, gently, intertwine their fingers. But he holds himself back and helps Sirius along the way instead.

“How do you know it’s a girl?” He questioned and narrowed his eyes at the reporter.

Her smile dropped immediately, glancing down at her clipboard and back up again. “Well, is it not a girl?” She asked, her voice laced with a fake sort of sweetness that slowly crawls under Sirius' skin.

Before any of the others can stop it from happening Sirius quickly does whatever his heart tells him to. He’s always been a sore loser and does whatever he can to win. And now he desperately needed to win the satisfaction of turning off the light in the reporter's lovesick eyes.

“No, no it’s not a girl actually.” He announced with a rapidly thumping heart.

Both Peters and James' heads jolted up to observe Sirius with panicked eyes, ready to intervene whenever they needed to. Whereas Remus remained in the same exact position; gazing down at his hands as a small smirk slowly spread over his lips.

“I- it’s not?” The reporter stuttered in bewilderment. “It’s not a girl?”

Sirius' actions sunk in as he heard his own words thrown back at him. But to his surprise he didn’t regret it. He’s nervous as hell, yes, but he couldn’t regret it. Why should he ever feel ashamed for the love he feels so deeply?

He shook his head which caused a few loose strands to fall down in his eyes. “No it’s not.” He mumbles. Avoiding her shocked eyes as the silence thickened in the small recording studio.

He cannot even fathom why they choose to have the interview in their recording studio. It’s too small and the smell of smoke which he usually loves is surprisingly nauseating.

“Oh uh- uhm okay." She trailed off and looked down at her clipboard to reread all of her questions.

‘What are your favourite lyrics from your new album?’

‘Is there something you’ve really improved in ever since the start of your career?’

‘What’s something you always bring on tour?’

No she couldn’t. All of the questions were so incredibly gray and boring compared to what she just accidentally revealed. She can’t switch the subject now. Sure, she’s incredibly disappointed that Sirius isn’t infatuated with her. But who does she think she is? He didn’t even know her name until a few minutes ago.

“I realise the complications of my question so you don’t have to answer it,” the reporter began and peered back up at the band. “But can you give us any hint of who it might be?”

Peter, who sat on Sirius left, gently nudged his shoulder. James followed along and smiled in encouragement and while Sirius really appreciated his friends' support there was only one person's opinion he wanted.

Sirius' eyes traced Remus calloused fingers. The scars and rings he’s kissed so many times. Especially the golden metallic band on Remus ring finger. He loves to kiss it and whisper affectionate words that no one else gets to hear. How the public doesn’t know about their relationship is beyond comprehension. But maybe it’s time to be a bit brave after all.

“C’mon,” Remus urged quietly and playfully poked Sirius' shoe clad foot with his own. “Say it.”

The lead singer chuckled and took a deep shaky breath. He won’t regret it and everything will turn out fine he repeated over and in his head. “It’s Remus,” he uttered, his voice just a bit too hushed for anyone to properly hear what he said. “Remus. It’s Remus.” He repeated a bit louder and for some unknown reason the reporter didn’t look as shocked this time.

“Remus,” she echoed and glanced at the bassist as if making sure he really exists. “You look lovely together.” She smiled and exchanged her sickly sweet fake smile for a more sincere one.

“Now,” she began to say before any of the band members had a chance to speak. “Where were we? Oh that’s right, what’s something you always bring on tour?”

[judyvan]

Dirty Laundry (The Girl) - A Sturniolo Fanfic

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Summary: Matt brings you over to meet his brothers, Nick and Chris, for the first time.

Warnings: MDNI/ smut/ mattxfem!reader/ pnv/ toxic intentions/ getting payback/ fluff/ pet names (baby)/ multiple part series/ use of "you"

A/N: This is part 4 of my series, "Dirty Laundry." For context, click here to find the previous parts. Interactions are appreciated. Pls don't steal my shit. Thx!💋

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Ever since your date, you and Matt have been inseparable. The two of you somehow manage to see each other at least once a day even if it’s just for half an hour. Tonight, you’re going to Matt’s house for the first time. This is also going to be your first time seeing your cheating ass ex, Chris.

[Matthew Sturniolo]

Hey. I wanna see you tonight. Wanna come to my place so I can introduce you to my brothers? 😁

[You]

We can do that. I’m so fucking nervous though. What if I’m awkward or they don’t like me?

[Matthew Sturniolo]

Don’t stress about it. I think they will really like you. Tonight isn’t going to be like a hangout with them or anything I’m just going to introduce you to them. After you’re more comfortable, we can make plans to do something with them. Sound good?

[You]

I love that idea. I’ll see you later. Wear something nice for me. 😉

You spend the day preparing to meet Matt and come face to face with someone you hate. After many hours, Matt arrives at your house to pick you up. He opens your door, and you get into his car. After you are both settled, he gently turns your face towards his and kisses you. The kiss is filled with his longing for your lips. When the kiss ends, you are both left breathless.

“I’ve been looking forward to that all day,” he smiles throwing the car in gear.

As Matt drives to his house, you both talk about what you’ve been up to since you saw each other last. In little to no time, Matt pulls into his driveway.

“Matt, are your brothers here? Where are the other cars?”

“They’re here. My brothers don’t drive,” Matt laughs as he gets out of the car.

He walks over to the passenger door and helps you out. He takes your hand in his and walks you to the door. You can feel your hand getting sweaty and shaky. Matt gently rubs his thumb over your hand, sensing what he thinks to be nervousness to meet his brothers. Deep down, you know that it’s just nervousness to see one of them.

“Hey, it’s okay. They aren’t scary I promise.”

Matt gives you a gentle smile as he unlocks his door. After you walk up the stairs, you see Chris and Nick sitting down on the couch.

“Hey guys, I want to introduce you to someone,” Matt starts as he starts to lead you towards them.

You and Chris make eye contact. All of the color leaves his face, and your insides fill with rage. You break into a huge grin, seeing his jaw clench and his eyes widen. Nick smiles as he gets up off of the couch and begins to walk over to you.

“Hello. You must be the girl that Matt hasn’t shut up about,” he wraps his arm around Matt as he looks down at you.

“That’s me. Or at least I hope it is,” you say, your eyes darting over to Chris’ at that last remark before you look at Matt and Nick giggling.

“It wouldn’t be anyone else,” Matt smiles, his hand leaving yours and making its way to your lower back.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you. I love your makeup by the way. You’re really pretty.”

“Thank you um…”

“Oh sorry, I’m Nick. Obviously, you know Matt and that one over there is Chris,” he gestures towards Chris who is still on the couch. His expression has now changed from a look of disbelief to a grimace of disgust.

“Hi, Chris,” you say with a smug grin.

“Sup,” Chris says before getting up. He walks directly to the kitchen table before sitting down and getting on his phone.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Nick asks looking at Matt.

“Couldn’t tell ya. He isn’t normally like this,” Matt says looking at you once again.

“Yeah, that motherfucker is normally bouncing off the walls like a fucking animal,” Nick says.

You and Matt both start to laugh at Nick’s remark.

“Well anyways, I’m getting ready to go out. Matt come help me pick out an outfit," Nick says grabbing Matt's arm as he starts to lead him towards the stairs.

"Why me," Matt says looking at you. "Let Chris help you."

"Do you see what Chris is fucking wearing, Matt? I think the fuck not. Now come on."

Nick drags Matt with him leaving only you and Chris downstairs. You walk over to the kitchen table and sit down across from Chris. You pull out your phone and ignore his presence.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Chris asks you, his tone full of bitterness.

“Scrolling through my phone,” you respond refusing to meet his eyes and poorly trying to hide your smile.

“I mean with my fucking brother.”

“Listen...umm. I’m sorry I didn’t realize how similar you all looked. You’re...Nick, right?”

You sit your phone down and look at Chris.

“Don’t act like you don’t know my fucking name. A few weeks ago, you were screaming it damn near every night,” Chris replies with a smug look on his face.

“Well, guess whose name I’ll be screaming tonight,” you say, your face no longer hiding the joy his anger is bringing you.

“Yeah okay,” Chris scoffs. “Obviously you have a type. I mean we look just alike. Seems like someone was missing me. You could've just answered my texts instead of getting with Matt. He won't be able to please you like I did.”

“You two may look alike but trust me you’re very different. Matt seemed to get all of the good traits, especially the ones that matter,” you say looking downwards.

“Fuck you. Believe it or not, I really cared about you.”

“No. All you fucking cared about Chris was having someone to fuck. It could’ve been me or whoever else was willing to,” you say as the sound of Nick and Matt’s footsteps grow louder.

Nick and Matt come up to the table, unable to sense the tension between you and Chris.

“Well, it was good to meet you. I’ll see you again soon. My friends are here to get me,” Nick says looking at you with a kind smile.

“It was nice meeting you too, Nick.”

“What time are you leaving Chris,” Matt asks as Nick heads to the door.

“I’m about to leave right now.”

“Okay. Well we are going to go upstairs. I’ll see you later,” Matt says helping you out of your chair.

“Whatever,” Chris says in a pissy tone.

Matt starts to lead you to the stairs, his large hand placed on the small of your back.

“I’m sorry about him. I don’t know what his deal is.”

“It’s okay. Maybe next time will be better.”

“Yeah hopefully. This is my room,” Matt says pushing the door open. “Make yourself at home.”

You walk over and sit down on his bed. Matt quickly joins you and you pull him in for a kiss.

“Well I missed you too,” Matt says with a laugh, pulling you on top of him.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” you say with a smile, your kisses growing more and more hungry.

You both hear the sound of a door shutting.

“Matt I want you so bad right now.”

Without hesitation, Matt quickly takes his shirt off before climbing on top of you. He starts to kiss your neck sending shivers down your spine. His hand slips underneath your shirt and starts to explore your skin. He slowly takes off your shirt, and continues to explore your body, this time with his mouth. His lips connecting with your skin begins to leave you breathless. Matt quickly sits up and takes his pants off as you remove your bra. He takes off your pants and tosses them on the floor, right beside his.

“Let me show you how much I missed you,” he says, his voice filled with desire.

He starts to trail his mouth down your body, no area of skin left untouched. You gently guide his head back up to yours, kissing him hungrily. Matt begins to grind against you, showing you how badly he wants you too. Your hips thrust upwards, desperately searching for more friction. The soft moans coming out of you are starting to fill Matt's mouth. He gently pulls away from you and rolls over to his nightstand, grabbing a condom out of the first drawer. You slowly slide off your underwear as Matt takes off his own. He puts the condom on and kisses you slowly as he starts to push into you. He wraps your legs around his waist as he starts to pick up his movements. Sounds of your pleasure start to feel the room as Matt slams into you repeatedly. You let your head fall backwards and Matt quickly meets your throat, nipping at it gently then soothing the pain with his tongue and lips.

"Look at me," he says, pulling his mouth off of your neck. "Let me see those pretty eyes."

You meet his gaze as he continues to pound into you. As you make eye contact, Matt begins to thrust harder and faster into you. You throw your hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from screaming.

"Are you okay?"

You nod your head frantically.

"Does it feel good?"

You start to nod again taking your hand off of your mouth and biting your lip.

"Let me hear how good it feels, baby. It's okay."

You stop holding back your moans as the pressure inside you builds.

"You're close, aren't you?" Matt asks.

"Yes, Matt! Please don't stop."

Your nails dig into his back as you feel your climax approaching.

"Oh my god, Matt!" you scream as you come undone underneath him.

Your screams are so loud they make the walls shake.

"Oh fuck," Matt groans in your ear as he finishes.

He continues to pump into you a few more times, riding out the after waves. He collapses on top of you and gently kisses your temple. He pulls out of you and discards the condom. Matt pulls you into his arms and rubs your back.

"You did so good," Matt praises.

Suddenly the both of you hear a toilet flush and a few seconds later the front door slams. You and Matt look at each other terrified.

"Oh shit," Matt says. "I thought Chris already left."

"Fuck," you say covering your face in embarrassment. "He already didn't like me before Matt, he's really going to hate me now."

"Hey, that's not true," Matt says. "I think he may just be having an off day. I'm sorry. I'll talk to him about this later. Hopefully he won't hold anything against us or tell Nick."

You listen to Matt's words and focus on concealing the amount of joy this incident has brought you. Not only did Chris see you with his brother, but in the same day, he also heard you have sex with his brother. There was no better way for you to get revenge. Now you can focus on Matt and Matt only. Matt helps you clean up. The two of you get dressed and head downstairs to watch a movie. As you lay down on the couch, Matt lays opposite of you and pulls your feet onto his chest. He starts to give you a foot massage and you begin to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Matt asks with a smile. "Are you ticklish?"

"Yea, I am, but that's not why I'm laughing," you start. "I'm laughing because you must really like me to be touching my feet for no reason."

Matt looks up at you sweetly, his hands never leaving your foot.

"I do really like you," Matt says with a shy laugh. "I really really like you actually."

"Oh? Is that so?" you respond jokingly. "Well that's good because I really really like you too."

Matt blushes as he continues to rub your feet. After a few minutes pass, Matt speaks again.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

The question catches off guard, but the answer doesn't require much thinking.

"I would love to be your girlfriend," you reply blushing.

Matt quickly releases your feet and climbs on top of you, peppering your face with kisses. You start to giggle.

"I want to take you out. Like on a real date as my girlfriend. I'm not free until next week though. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes."

"Thank God. I don't know what we will do yet, but all I do know is I want to show you off. I want to post you. Is that okay?" he asks excitedly.

"Absolutely."

If you would like to join or be removed from my tag list at any point in time, feel free to let me know! 💋

Taglist: @welovestromboli @2prcntmilkluvr @stvrnzwrld @wh0remikasas @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @chrislovespepsi @leovaldezluvr @maggiie @edwardscoldhands @s4turniolo @icameheretoreadshi

Come back for part 5 to see how your date with Matt goes and what his fans think about you!

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Soul Like Me

Joshua Hong x Reader

Word Count: 6,030

Genre: Angst, some fluff, non idol AU

Rating: Some adult themes, MINORS DNI!

Summary: You and Joshua have been friends for most of your life, and you thought that you always would be. Turns out, your feelings for each other are stronger than you thought, but love isn't always enough to keep a relationship strong.

Content Warnings: Breakups, suggestive content (making out but nothing more), brief mentions of body image struggles, some allusions to previous traumatic experiences but nothing detailed, alcohol as a coping mechanism, other unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentioned sex but no smut, angst with no happy ending.

A/N: This is my second submission for the Angst Olympics collab! As always, if you enjoyed this fic, make sure to check out the other fics in the collab masterlist, linked here! There are so many incredible writers participating, so make sure to show them some love!

Taglist: @xomakara, @notyourjaem, @heechwe, @shadowkoo, @okiedokrie-main, @chugging-antiseptic-dye

Fic is under the cut.

Joshua Hong was one of your favorite people in your life for most of what you remembered of it. The two of you met at school when you were kids, and as the years went by, you only grew closer. You laughed together, cried together, and lived your lives together. All of your fondest childhood stories included him. No one made you laugh like he could, and he was the first person that you turned to when you needed someone to talk to, whether you were depressed because of a breakup or stressed out because you got into yet another argument with your mom. Joshua was your best friend, your rock. Every moment with him made you feel like you weren’t alone anymore, like you were finally understood. You loved him, even when you didn’t quite know what that meant yet.

You finally realized that you were in love with Joshua when the two of you were in college. After a particularly difficult breakup, he was the one that helped you pick up the pieces of your heart that were shattered by yet another careless man that you’d allowed into your life in the hopes of finding the love of a lifetime.

When the breakup happened, you’d been dating Chan for almost a year, and the entire time, you were certain that he was as in love with you as you were with him. However, you tended to be proven wrong in only the most heartbreaking ways every time you were even remotely sure of something. This time, your perception of Chan was shattered when the two of you got into a particularly heated argument and he let it slip that he’d only started dating you because of a bet with his best friend.

Chan’s admission hurt you deeply, to say the least. So, you threw him out of your apartment, screaming at him that you never wanted to see him again while holding back tears. Then, you picked up your phone and called Joshua, asking him to spend the night at your apartment with you. Your best friend was at your door in minutes, knocking loudly and yelling, “It’s Josh! Let me in!”

You hurried to open the door and responded, “It’s ten o’clock at night! Are you trying to get noise complaints?” Though, the smile on your face when you saw him was proof that you weren’t actually upset with him.

“Fuck noise complaints,” he said with a laugh while struggling to hold the ridiculous number of bags in his arms. “All I care about is cheering my best friend up.”

“Thanks for coming, Josh. Seriously, I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you.”

“It’s no problem. You know I’ll always pick up when you call. All I ask in return is that you help me carry these bags. They’re heavy, and I don’t want to drop anything.”

You took the bags that he handed you and stepped aside so that he could enter your apartment, asking, “Holy shit, did you bring your entire house over?”

“No. I brought a lot of snacks, though. I also brought a few DVDs and a deck of playing cards, since I figured you’d probably want something to do to take your mind off of whatever happened. Now, what happened?”

“It was all a bet,” you said, fighting back tears as you started to remember your earlier argument with Chan.

“What do you mean?”

“We got into a fight about something stupid, and he told me that he only asked me out because of a bet. He never loved me, at least not as much as I loved him.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you started to sob, and Joshua pulled you into a tight hug. As you cried into his shoulder, he rubbed your back and whispered soft reassurances, and you relaxed just a little bit in his hold. As your breathing evened out, you couldn’t help but think that you wanted to be held by Joshua more often. Your best friend made you feel safe and cared for in a way that Chan never could have, even if your now ex had given enough of a shit about you to try.

Once you were feeling better, you spent the rest of the night watching the movies that Joshua brought with him. While you watched them, the two of you talked about everything except for the pain that had caused you to invite him over in the first place.

When the conversation started, you were just making snarky comments about the movie you were watching. As time went on, though, the conversation got a bit more serious, and you turned to Joshua and asked, “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, silly? I’ve known you since we were kids.”

“That doesn’t mean that you have to like me, though.”

“Oh, come on,” Joshua responded with a slightly frustrated sigh. “Don’t start with that, (Y/N). You’re amazing.”

You smiled slightly as you said, “Thanks, Josh,” knowing that you’d spend hours arguing if you didn’t relent right then.

As you thought about the way Joshua so casually complimented you, like it was second nature for him to care for you, an all-too-familiar rush of butterflies filled your stomach. Well, the giddy nervousness itself was familiar at least. Experiencing it as a reaction to your best friend hugging you while telling you how amazing he thought you were, however, was not. Sure, you’d always thought that Joshua was good-looking, anyone that had eyes did, but you’d never really thought of him in any way that wasn’t strictly platonic before.

Joshua was your best friend, for fuck’s sake. You couldn’t have feelings for him. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he got uncomfortable around you and your friendship ended? The thought alone terrified you, so you decided that you would keep your mouth shut and hope that the feelings went away.

In an attempt to focus on anything but the growing tension in the room, you turned to Joshua and asked, “Did you bring enough stuff with you to stay the night?”

“I always do.”

You softened when he spoke, responding, “I know I already said it, but thank you. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably still be upset,” he said with a laugh. “Seriously, though, I’ll always be here when you need somebody. What kind of best friend would I be if I wasn’t?”

Right, he was your friend. Nothing more. No matter how badly you now found yourself wanting more.

After brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas, you went to your room to go to sleep, while Joshua settled in your guest room. You tried your best to fall asleep, you really did, but instead, you just stared at your ceiling and thought about Joshua. It was funny, really. The harder you tried not to think about him, the more he consumed your thoughts. It was like the universe was determined to make you want him, regardless of whether he even wanted you in the same way.

Eventually, your exhaustion won over your anxious mind, and you did fall asleep. That didn’t mean that you escaped from your newfound feelings, though. Even as you slept, you were bombarded with thoughts about your best friend in a number of scenarios that friends weren’t supposed to picture each other in.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of bacon and the sound of Joshua singing along with the music playing from his phone. You’d always loved his voice, so hearing it immediately after you woke up was a pleasant surprise. You slowly walked into your kitchen, hoping not to disturb him, but when he heard you coming, he stopped singing and turned the music off. With an exaggerated pout on your face, you asked, “Why’d you stop?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Josh, when have I ever indicated to you that hearing you sing bothers me?”

With a shy smile on his face, he replied, “You haven’t.”

“And you know me. I would tell you if something you did bothered me, right?”

“Right.”

“So, hearing you sing does not bother me.”

“Ok.”

With a grin on his face, Joshua restarted the music, and the two of you sang along together until breakfast was ready. As soon as the eggs and bacon were done cooking, you each fixed a plate and sat down at your kitchen table. Once you were comfortable, you said, “Seriously, thank you for being there for me last night. I don’t think I tell you enough just how much I appreciate your friendship.”

“You don’t have to thank me, (Y/N). We’ve been over this.”

“Yes I do. I was a wreck last night until you came over.”

“If you really wanna thank me, you can enjoy your food.”

You were quiet after that, knowing that you’d never win. You couldn’t really be upset, though, since you knew that he was speaking from a place of love. He always spoke to you from a place of love.

After the two of you finished breakfast, you said, “You know that the fact that you cooked means that I’m doing the dishes, right?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But that’s how we always do it when you spend the night. Whoever didn’t cook washes the dishes.”

“Unless I’m spending the night because you’re upset about something. That’s when I do both so that you get to relax.”

“That has never been the rule, and you know it.”

“Well, it is now.”

“But why?”

“Consider it a bribe. I do the breakfast dishes, and you tell me what you were so upset about last night.”

“I was upset about breaking up with Chan,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And I know that, but the way you were acting was different. It wasn’t just ‘I just had a bad breakup’ sad. I think there was something else going on.”

“But there wasn’t.”

“(Y/N). I know you, and you know as well as I do that’s bullshit. Come on, talk to me. Did I do something wrong?”

With a defeated sigh, you responded, “No, you didn’t.”

“Then what’s going on? You got all quiet last night out of nowhere, and you looked like you were thinking about something.”

Finally, you relented and said, “I’m just having some new feelings that I don’t know how to process. Can we talk about it another time?”

Joshua softened at your explanation and replied, “Yeah, of course. I’m still doing the dishes, though.” Then, he laughed and stood up from the kitchen table before you could get another word in. As he walked away, you realized that the butterflies in your stomach were back. Every moment with him was making you want him more, and you hated yourself for it. Yet another reason to not tell him, you supposed at the time.

It took a couple of months for you to give in and tell Joshua that you liked him, even though you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t from the moment you realized it. Ironically, you confessed your feelings on a night that was very similar to the night that you realized you had feelings for him in the first place. He was spending the night at your apartment, and while one of the worst movies you’d ever seen played on your television screen, you sat with him and talked about how ridiculous the movie was.

“I will never understand how you always manage to find such terrible movies,” you laughed.

“Hey! I don’t think this one is all that bad,” he retorted. “Besides, you were just talking about how fun it is to watch.”

“Yeah, because it’s fun to make fun of!” you defended. “The acting is mediocre at best, the sets look like they were made by a bunch of bored kindergarteners, and the plot makes no sense! What about that isn’t fun to laugh at?”

“I guess you’re right.”

As the movie’s ending credits flashed across your tv, the room went silent, and you quickly got lost in your thoughts. The butterflies in your stomach had returned, a sensation that you were growing increasingly familiar with, and irritated by, as your feelings for Joshua grew. You were driving yourself crazy trying to move on, but nothing worked. It was like your heart was out to get you, and you couldn’t understand why.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Joshua say your name and ask, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, hoping that he wouldn’t notice that you still weren’t entirely focused.

Of course, he did notice, and he said, “I know that look. It’s your thinking look. What’s going on?”

With a defeated sigh, you asked, “Do you remember the new feelings I mentioned when you spent the night after I broke up with Chan?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Those feelings are still there, and it’s getting harder to ignore them.”

“Then don’t ignore them. Talk to me about what’s going on.”

That was when you finally admitted, “I realized the night that Chan and I broke up that I like you. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and if the fact that I have feelings for you makes you uncomfortable, I will happily distance myself until they go away. I just-”

“Stop right there. I am not uncomfortable, and I do not want you to distance yourself from me. That is the last thing that I want. Ok?”

Joshua’s calm demeanor despite your admission made you feel slightly better, so you said, “Ok.”

“Now, what was that about you having feelings for me?” he asked, a teasing smile forming on his face.

“You heard what I said,” you answered with a soft laugh.

“Does that mean that this is a date?”

“I don’t know. Do you want it to be a date?”

Joshua pretended to think for a moment before he answered, “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Then yes, it is.”

Without wasting any more time, Joshua cupped your face in his hands and kissed you just like he’d wanted to do his whole life. You didn’t know this, but he’d been interested in you for a long time, and he’d spent far more time than he cared to admit hoping that someday you would feel the same. Now that he knew that you did, he definitely wasn’t going to waste any time.

As you melted into Joshua’s touch, you found yourself wondering why the hell it took you so long to finally confess. You couldn’t get too upset with yourself, though, considering that you now knew that he wanted you too. Still, you couldn’t help but feel like a little bit of an idiot for not shooting your shot sooner.

It didn’t take long at all for Joshua to deepen the kiss and tangle his hands in your hair. A soft moan left your mouth, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted him. But, just as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your phone started to ring.

You groaned in annoyance as you let go of Joshua to check your phone. When you saw your mom’s contact photo pop up on the screen, though, you let out a loud laugh before leaving the room to take the call.

While you were in the other room talking to your mom, Joshua sat on your couch and wondered why the fuck he waited so long to tell you that he liked you. As he thought about it a bit more, though, he realized that it was because he was terrified of losing you as a friend. After all, he’d known you for most of his life, and you’d always been there for him when no one else cared enough to be. He didn’t think he could handle losing that friendship if you didn’t feel the same way or if the two of you did get into a relationship that didn’t end well.

When you came back into the room after calling your mom, Joshua smiled at you and asked, “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. My mom just wanted to ask if I’m still going to my sister’s place for dinner tomorrow.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. I also asked if you could come with me, and she said yes. Do you wanna come to family dinner this week?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“Awesome, I’ll let her know. Later, though. I wanna spend more time with you first,” you said before you kissed him again.

As your relationship with Joshua progressed, you couldn’t believe how almost perfect it seemed to be. He never made you feel unloved when you were with him; he was always doing little things to show you just how much he loved you. Even your family adored him, which was a pleasant surprise, considering they’d never liked your previous partners much. Joshua grew especially close to your niece, who called him her best friend and cried whenever it was time for him to leave family events that he attended with you. You loved the way he seemed to fit into your life, despite any minor problems that the two of you had, like both of you being too stubborn to let petty arguments go.

If anyone had asked Joshua about his relationship with you, he would have told them that it was almost perfect. Sure, he loved you, and he was elated that you loved him too, but there were a few things that worried him. The main one was that you didn’t let him in like he thought you needed to. He understood that there were things that you were reluctant to ask for help with, especially your admittedly poor mental health, but all he wanted was to be there for you. Not knowing what else to do, he decided to just talk to you about it.

One night, you were sleeping over at Joshua’s apartment, and he figured that it was a good time to have the conversation that he thought the two of you needed to have. So, while the two of you were lying in his bed, he asked, “Honey, can I talk to you about something?”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“I’m really worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’ve noticed that you tend to push me away when you’re upset. It kind of feels like you don’t trust me to be there for you, and that hurts, if I’m being honest.”

With a sigh, you replied, “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just worry about bothering you. You already have so much going on. I don’t want to add on and stress you out more, you know?”

“Hey, I understand that, but you could never bother me, my love. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“Please just let me be there for you.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey,” you said as you pulled him into a hug and buried your face in his neck, yawning as you relaxed in his arms.

With a soft laugh, Joshua asked, “How about we get some sleep, honey?”

“No, I don’t wanna,” you complained.

“I heard you yawning, lovebug. You cannot convince me you’re not tired.”

“I’m always tired. I wanna stay up and talk to you.”

“I mean, so do I, but we also need sleep. Please, baby? For me?”

With an exaggerated sigh of frustration, you laughed and said, “Ok, but only because I love you.”

“I love you too.”

After that, you and Joshua both went silent as you dozed off together, satisfied with the results of your conversation and hopeful that your relationship would be ok.

Your relationship was not, in fact, ok. Sure, you made some progress in letting Joshua in more, but it was a long, difficult process. Especially when you thought about all of the ways that previous partners had left you completely broken and unable to truly let people see all of you. You wanted to be better for Joshua’s sake, though, and you knew that an important part of that was trying to prove to him that you really did trust him. Easier said than done.

No one could say that you didn’t try to let Joshua in more, but there were always going to be situations where you held back. You did tell him when you were hurting, but you didn’t always tell him why, especially if he was the reason that you were upset. In your mind, there was no point in starting an argument because you were certain that you were overreacting when he upset you anyway. You also tried to the best of your ability to hide it when you were struggling with deeper issues, like the lingering memories of your exes that kept you up at night and all of the very detailed reasons that you hated your appearance, because you knew that there was no way for him to help you.

The other problem was that he was pushy when he thought that something was wrong. He refused to stop asking you what was wrong until you snapped, and then he blamed you for the argument that ensued, like the entire problem hadn’t started with him not listening when you told him you didn’t want to talk about whatever was wrong. It drove you insane, but you knew that there probably wasn’t much that you could do to fix it. So, you shoved the resentment down until there was nothing but happiness and love remaining, at least when it came to what everyone else could see.

Joshua could tell that you still weren’t letting him in, but he couldn’t understand why. All he wanted was to be a shoulder for you to cry on, and after a while, he wondered if you still wanted the same. Sure, he understood that there were some things that you weren’t comfortable with talking about, but he couldn’t wrap his head around why you lied about being ok when it came to the simpler things, like getting into fights with your sister or the times that he knew you were upset with him. He had no idea how to approach the situation, though, which only upset him more.

The other thing that worried Joshua was your tendency to rely on less-than-healthy coping mechanisms to handle some of your more serious problems. At one point, before the two of you had started dating, he’d noticed you leaning on alcohol a bit too much to numb the pain, and he’d successfully encouraged you to stop drinking. But, there were other concerning things that he noticed that he really didn’t want to think about, especially when he considered the reasons you probably had those particular coping mechanisms. Instead, he tried to focus on the fact that you really did seem to be getting better when it came to finding healthier outlets for your emotions.

When you and Joshua spent Halloween together a few months after your three-year anniversary, you knew that it was probably the beginning of the end for your relationship. You didn’t want that to be the case, but you couldn’t help but think that something was going to go wrong.

You were proven right when the two of you went to a play at a theater in your city and got into an argument in the middle of the theater’s lobby. Almost since the play had begun, you felt overwhelmed, but you desperately tried to

It didn’t take long after that for you to start getting overwhelmed, but Joshua still wanted to take pictures with the rest of the cast before he left. So, you said, “I need to step outside, but I’m not trying to rush you. You keep getting pictures; I just need a minute.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Baby, it’s ok. I just need to step out. You go ahead and get the pictures that you want.”

“Are you sure? I-”

“Just fucking go,” you snapped before you walked out of the theater.

Joshua didn’t understand why you didn’t want him with you when you got overwhelmed. He was your boyfriend, for fuck’s sake, so why were you so against him being there for you? Did you not trust him? Did you still buy into that bullshit about bothering him? He had no idea, so he decided to talk to you about it once you were away from the theater.

While you stood outside, trying to fight back the anxiety that threatened to bubble over into a full-blown breakdown right outside of your city’s theater, you found yourself wondering how the fuck your relationship with Joshua got so bad. When the two of you first got together, you’d made a promise to each other to work together and love each other no matter what. As time went on, though, you noticed the distance between the two of you growing to the point that you didn’t know if you could continue trying to bridge the gap.

Joshua never did talk to you about the problems at the theater. Instead, he decided to ignore the situation and hope the two of you could get better. It was only a matter of time before his hopes and yours would be shattered.

The day that your relationship with Joshua finally ended was the day that you fell apart, though it wasn’t just because of the breakup. It all started when you got into an argument with your sister that left you feeling angry and confused. When she finally left your apartment, you felt like she hated you, and you needed support. So, against your better judgement, you called your boyfriend and asked him to come over.

Joshua was at your door in an instant, and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and started to sob. It hurt him to see you in such a vulnerable state, but he knew that he couldn’t change the way your family treated you, no matter how badly he wanted to. So, he did the next best thing: holding you close and giving you a safe place to process your emotions. He didn’t know that he wasn’t as much of a safe space for you as he used to be, but at that point, you had no intention of telling him that.

As you cried, you found yourself thinking about the absolute train wreck that was your life. Your family treated you like you were nothing to them unless they wanted something from you, past heartaches haunted you more than they should have, and all you wanted was to fall back into your previously established unhealthy coping mechanisms. Of course, you knew that they were unhealthy, but you didn’t care. After all, they were pretty fucking effective.

Once you’d cried all you could, you let out a sigh of defeat and said, “I need a drink.”

“No, you don’t. You know that’s not a good idea.”

“I don’t really care right now, honestly.”

It killed Joshua that you seemed hell bent on destroying yourself. He knew that you struggled, and he understood. Hell, considering how long you’d known each other and the things that he’d seen you go through in your lifetime, he was pretty sure he knew you better than anyone else did. Despite the fact that he understood, however, he couldn’t just sit by and watch you throw all the hard work you’d put into getting better down the drain.

“Baby, you’re not drinking.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to fall back into a bad place!”

“I’m already there. It doesn’t fucking matter. None of it fucking matters anymore.”

“Does the fact that I care about you matter?”

“Of course, it fucking does.”

“Then act like it.” You were quiet after that, but he continued, “All I want is to be there for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to be there for me?” you snapped, exhausted and overwhelmed from the day you’d had and not wanting to keep fighting with him.

The moment the words left your mouth; you knew that you made a mistake. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and you waited for Joshua to say something. In the end, he just sighed and said, “If that’s the way you feel, we don’t have to do this anymore.”

You started to tear up as you said, “Wait, please. I didn’t mean-”

“Stop lying to me, (Y/N). I can’t take the lies anymore.”

With that, Joshua walked out of your apartment, and you cried yourself to sleep that night for the first time in years.

When you woke up the next morning, you opened your phone to a message from Joshua. You really didn’t want to open it, but you hated ignoring people. Especially the man that you still loved.

Joshua: Just so you know, this doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you anymore. It just means that we both need to heal so that we can treat ourselves and each other better. You’re still my best friend, and I still want to be a part of your life. Ok? Y/N: Ok. Thanks, Josh. Joshua: How many times do I have to tell you not to thank me for caring about you?

You didn’t respond to his message after that. You couldn’t, really. All you wanted to say was that you loved him, and you knew that he didn’t want to hear those words from you anymore.

For a while after you broke up with Joshua, things were ok between the two of you, at least for the most part. Your relationship wasn’t exactly the same as before, of course, but you still considered him one of your closest friends and made a conscious effort to include him in your life. He appreciated that greatly and did the same for you, which made you happier than words could say. After all, you knew that you could be ok with not being in a romantic relationship with him, but losing him as a friend would have killed you.

As time went on, your greatest fear came true. You found yourself getting sucked into surprisingly heated arguments with Joshua more frequently than you ever did when you dated him, and after a while, you started distancing yourself, tired of fighting constantly. On top of that, you struggled more with your mental health than you originally anticipated after your breakup, which made you want to pull away from your now ex even more.

When you finally realized that your friendship with Joshua had run its course, there was no huge argument, with screams to fuck off and accusations of lying about the love the two of you once had for each other. The end of your friendship was much less explosive than that. However, that didn’t make the last texts between the two of you any less painful.

Y/N: Can I ask you something? Joshua: What is it? Y/N: Do you want to talk to me? Joshua: I do, but it hurts. Y/N: I understand. Should I give you some space?

There was no response after that, and that was how you knew that one of the longest-enduring friendships of your life was over.

Not having Joshua in your life hurt you more than you ever thought it could. Sure, you knew that it would be painful if it ever happened, but you honestly underestimated just how painful it was to lose the man that used to make you feel just a little bit less alone. Every time you saw something that made you think of him, you felt like you were going to start crying. You thought about calling him constantly. You still found yourself starting to type messages to him that you knew you couldn’t send, because you knew that he didn’t want to read them anymore.

One of the main ways that you dealt with losing Joshua as a friend was throwing yourself into new friendships and putting far more effort than what was necessary into rekindling and maintaining old ones. You lost sleep texting friends that lived in different time zones. You spent most of your free time either glued to your phone as you talked to your friends or organizing hangouts with your friends that were close enough that you could see them sometimes. After a while, every moment of your free time was filled by other people. You had absolutely no time for yourself, but that was by design. If you were alone, you’d spend too much time thinking about the pain that still threatened to swallow you whole.

Joshua wasn’t faring much better than you were. You’d hurt him deeply, but that didn’t change that he still wanted you in his life. In his mind, you’d showed him time and time again that you didn’t want the same from him, though, so after a while, he stopped bothering to reach out. Instead, he spent more time with his friends and family, and he also found himself getting sucked into his own less-than-healthy coping mechanisms, like drinking. Yes, he knew that he was a hypocrite for leaning on alcohol to handle difficult emotions after expressly telling you that it was a bad idea, but he didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was numbing the pain.

It was a random Saturday night when Joshua found himself at the club once again, desperate to forget you. Instead of dancing like the friends that he’d arrived with, however, he tended to just sit at the bar and drink until he could barely remember his own name. It probably wasn’t the safest choice he could have made, but goddamn, it was effective when it came to numbing the pain. At least, it was until he looked up and saw you walk into the club.

You hated it when your friends decided to drag you out to random clubs that you’d never been to. You understood why they did it, of course, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed the experience. Still, you tried to put on a happy face for their sake. After all, you were pretty sure they were tired of you talking about how much you missed Joshua. You were tired of talking about it too, if you were being honest with yourself. However, you were also relieved that you slowly seemed to be getting over him.

All of your progress in moving on seemed to go away the second you spotted Joshua sitting at the bar, cocktail in hand. From the moment you laid eyes on him, you wanted to leave the bar, go back to your apartment, and sob until you were too tired to stay awake. You knew that your friends would never allow that, though, so instead, you made your way to the dance floor.

While you were dancing, a man you’d never seen before caught your attention. He was gorgeous, with elegant features that made you stop and stare for what was probably far too long, and based on the fact that he stared at you the exact same way, he was just as interested as you were. From the moment that you made eye contact with him; you knew that he was the perfect distraction for the night. So, you approached him and introduced yourself.

“I’m Jeonghan,” he said. “Do you wanna dance?”

“That sounds great.”

With a smile, Jeonghan took your hand, and the two of you started to move in time with the song that blasted through the club. You knew that he probably wouldn’t be interested in you beyond one night, but you didn’t care in the slightest. All you cared about was not being alone anymore, even if you were fairly certain that there was no hope of a lasting connection with the person that dulled your loneliness for the night. But then again, you never really did know what the universe had in store for you.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please like and reblog! If you wanna be tagged in future works, fill out the taglist form here! If you want to check out my other works, check out my main masterlist. If you want to see what else is in the works, you can check my upcoming works list! If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you want to see, feel free to send a request via my asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading. I hope you have a lovely day!

[fictoweirdoesten]

"Some people are destined to love and be loved. Others die trying."

-Has been a quote you've been holding on to ever since your first heartbreak.

---

Same ol' trigger warnings: self harm, suicide, use of the nickname pipsqueak because this is Caleb ffs. Reader is a fem/incel so if that turns you off you won't like this lol

Author's Note: I was watching a stream (shoutout Nightalize he's funny and cool) but he started talking about his gf and I got all envious so here we are. Proofreading? No, sorry. This is a vent piece really so I don't feel like reading this over again, I feel like sleeping instead.

---

You've resigned yourself to living alone. Your dream of cooking and cleaning for the love of your life when you got older faded away as you've grown up and faced the harsh realities that life brings.

I mean, you have it all. Terrible acne, overweight, below-average appearance, and about a trillion mental disorders to top it off. The only men that'd ever give you a chance are those that are desperate, completely setting their standards low just to have something to bang every night, and even you have a small ounce of self-respect left not to fall for it.

...Right? You can't deny how tempting it sounds just to be with someone, anyone. Anyone who would be beside you every night, even if they resent doing so. Anyone who would listen to your worries, even when they aren't listening. Anyone who wouldn't look at you with disgust, or pity-

"The storms that you'll encounter in the future-they shouldn't exist in this world."

Your whole life changed once you discovered Love and Deepspace. Once groveling and brooding over how lonely you were every day, how much your life sucks...everytime you felt loneliness creeping in, you'd rush to the app instead, just to see one man everyday:

Caleb. Oh, Caleb. He stole your heart the minute you saw his teaser, heard his voice. The minute you found out how possessive he was of mc, how much he loved her to the point of unhealthy obsession. It was something you had never felt before, feeling truly loved to that extent. It felt refreshing being able to love someone without overthinking it, without wondering if they truly loved you back, without turning on them and splitting.

You didn't need to love a real human. You have Caleb now.

It isn't a cope. You feel truly happy with him.

You're not lying to yourself. You're not gaslighting yourself. You're not-

"Your sister has a boyfriend now," your mom mutters, interrupting your thoughts as you sit at the dinner table. She glances up at you with a look that reeks "when are you getting one?" without actually saying it.

You only hum and nod, not wanting to hear about how better your younger sister is than you'll ever be.

...But it starts to get to you. You're really going to die alone, aren't you? When your mom goes back into her room, you quickly rummage through the cabinets, finding any kind of sweets you can. You won't be reminded of how miserable you are. You won't be reminded of how secretly desperate you are of love.

You won't be reminded on how Caleb isn't enough.

How you'll never be enough.

You break. All you remember is moving to the bathroom and opening the medicine cabinet. You didn't notice the fresh scars you inflicted on yourself, didn't notice the pain killers in your palm. Didn't realize when you had grabbed a water bottle, and you surely didn't realize how close you were to swallowing those pills whole.

"Hey...just what do you think you're doing, hm?"

You feel a hand reach out to stop you, it's grip on your wrist tightening. You look up, your breath hitching when you realize the man behind you is no other than Caleb, the one you'd hope would keep you alive through delusion.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail to escape through your chapped lips. His own chapped lips twist into a smile as his violet eyes look down at you lovingly, almost obsessively.

The same way he'd look at mc...

"Hey now, you're not thinking of quitting on me are you," He whispers, his hand moving down to the scars on your arm. His fingers trace over them, rubbing them gently as he coos in your ear. "You know...I'd be really sad if you left me."

You freeze. This can't be real, he can't be real.

It's as if he can hear your thoughts, because you watch as he giggles and takes your hand into his, carefully leading you into your room as if you're a delicate package that could break at anytime.

He leads you to your own bed before moving behind you, carefully setting you down before laying beside you.

You watch as he grins, that damn grin that made you fall in love with him all the way back to his teaser. His hands meet your face, caressing your cheek gently.

"Tell me what's wrong, pipsqueak...don't hold it in like I do."

Your eyes analyze every single part of his face, taking him all in. He was real, this wasn't a dream. You move your hands to his face next, taking your time to rub your fingers on every feature of his face that you could. You rub his forehead, his eyebrows, his nose, his cheeks, admiring the faint freckles before moving to his lips, than his chin.

You'd never been so close to a man before. Never touched one.

Your hands move to his hair next, your hands soft and delicate as you take your time, every strand of hair finding it's way to your fingers.

"...Don't ever leave me, Caleb." You whisper, finding your face inching closer to his.

Your first kiss. You wanted it so badly. You wanted your first kiss to be with Caleb.

But you suddenly feel drowsy, and you fight to keep your eyes open.

Caleb chuckles once more, moving to instead hold you closer, his head resting on top of yours as he hums gently.

"I won't ever leave you. No matter what, I'll always be by your side."

caleb...

"Get some sleep, pipsqueak. You'll feel better in the morning."

don't...go...

"Goodnight"

You wake up and notice Caleb not being there beside you. You let out a sigh, plopping back down on the pillow before your phone goes off.

You decide to check it anyway before you pass out once more, just in case it's your mom like usual...oh, another Love and Deepspace notification, even better. You shrug it off at first but decide to read it anyway, not liking clutter in your notifs bar as you plan to swipe it away.

Your heat races once you read the text.

"Don't ever stop fighting. I'll always be there to protect you."

-Caleb

Don't you wish fiction was the same as reality?

---

a/n: this Rallys strawberry milkshake is very good but I feel like vomiting now so idk-

[loethefox]

Did some small sketches for my fic. Sorry they're not digital or polished, I haven't done that much digital art in the grand scheme of things. Paper is my home. Digital is very tiring :(

Hope you like the designs... they're pretty basic but more will be coming when I publish more chapters!

[chastiefoul]

he finds you crying ft. love and deepspace men

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel, and sylus a/n: I always feel like mc wasn’t given enough time to grief when chapter 4 happened (or maybe they just didn’t show it or i remember it wrong) but to lose the people you’ve considered family like that in front of your eyes would severely mess on anyone’s mental well-being. mc stronger than me fr i would've had a breakdown every night. so i tried to write the comfort that was long overdue. <3

Zayne

He found you hunched over at the couch, knees tucked to your chest. your shoulder shook as he heard the sniffles and although he’s physically perfectly fine, he swore it felt like his heart was breaking in two.

He would gently put his key on the table, making his presence known in the subtlest way possible so you didn’t get startled.

You quickly tried to wipe your eyes and sat normally but suddenly in no time you were carried as he made you sit on his lap, bringing your head close to his neck as he held you tight.

Zayne wasn’t one who’s great at offering consoling words, as he also a firm believer of actions speak louder than words. As he rubbed your back gently he only said, “Let it all out, I’m here.”

So you did just that. You’ve said this once to him as a joke, but truly, anywhere by his side was the time you felt the most safe.

The doctor continued to comfort you in silence, hoping with every beat of his heart that his arms and hands that’s so used in saving people’s lives, could offer at least some kind of solace for your heart that was in disarray.

Xavier

He’d never hated the sight of a bed so much, until he found you crying atop of it.

Xavier would rushes over to you (arguably faster when he encountered strayed wanderers), determined to do anything he could to help you feel better.

As he put a hand over your cheek, wiping the tears that just kept on coming he whispered, “I’m here, what do you need?”

When you couldn’t even manage a reply Xavier would just stay by your side, his and was diligent in rubbing the side of your face; he never felt so useless, knowing the little gesture gave almost to none help.

For someone who finds sleep easy inbetween every hours, that was the most restless he’s ever been. He stayed with you until you calmed down, offering gentle whispers as you felt your awake state slipping away.

The moment you’re asleep Xavier was keen on wiping your face softly off of the remaining tears, and he tucked you in properly. He brought you to his embrace.

Yet unlike any other nights, he couldn’t find any part of him that was able to join you into the dream state.

Rafayel

Rafayel knew he came at a bad time. Seeing the way you spoke so stiffly and the way you zoned out of the conversation every few minutes.

However, he also knew he couldn’t leave you alone right then.

The silence once again was loud, but he didn’t think you realize that, as he followed your stare to the table, to what’s on the top of the table to be exact. A necklace with an apple charm on it.

He approached your side, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Miss bodyguard, you don’t have to be strong all the time, you know? Especially now, since you’re off duty.”

You chuckled quietly, but what followed after was not your usual easy smile but instead it was tears streaming down your face. And it felt like Rafayel could offer anything he had just to make them stop. And if that’s not enough, he swore to give you twice or thrice of what he had, it didn’t matter if he was to be in debt.

He held you tight, the sight of you crying was enough to make tears made their way to his eyes as well. And it pained him, knowing the best he could do in that moment was only to hold you tighter, as he wished that he could mend whatever broken part you had with one of his.

Sylus

He didn’t even flinch when you climbed on his lap, your usual talkativeness was nowhere to be found.

You rested your head on his shoulder and within seconds he knew that your emotions were in chaos, and if you thought you could find comfort in him, then he was more than happy to be there for you.

“Let me stay like here for a while,” you said weakly, voice all tense and anxious.

He brought a palm to your back, “By all means, darling. You didn’t think I was going to turn you away, did you?”

You stayed quiet, trying your best to get your emotions in order but it just seemed impossible. Sylus then sigh at your another attempt to pretend once again that you’re okay. “Cry if you need. Tears were never a sign of weakness, it just proves that you’re human.”

His rigid sentence somehow brought a strange sense of comfort for you, making your tears escape freely.

Sylus’ fingers felt fleeting on your back, like a touch that could slip away anytime. But he made sure none of that will happen as he stroke your hair gently over and over.

Was he worried of you? Absolutely. Yet he believed with all of his entire being that you that has fallen apart that day, would have no time standing back up again on the next day.

If there’s anything he learnt about you during your time with him, is that you’re a stranger to giving up.

[totalswag]

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena. 

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest. 

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder. 

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows. 

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone. 

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you. 

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@superlegend216 @skyslowalking @germcana @the1nonlyariana @mymultiveres @kiiyomei @chenslucy @rafeyslamb @rosezza @runningfrom2am @kneelarmhstrung

[tojisun]

the apple that rolled over to the tree

!! fluff; f!reader; parenthood!!; simon-centric hehe >:3 // divider by @/plutism!

there is a… kid attached to your hip when simon returns home from a mission, his exhausted body stumbling into the kitchen where he finds you and it.

“what—”

he can’t even fathom the emotion coursing through him at the moment, what with shock triumphing over everything. still, you’d probably need to give him credit for not losing his goddamn mind at seeing a whole child — he couldn’t have been more than two years old with how he’s only three apples tall — clinging to you like a baby koala.

“oh my god, you’re back!” you squeal, unfazed at how dumbfounded your fiance has become, before shuffling close to embrace him.

simon reciprocates the hug anyway.

you step back, your lips still wobbling in your tears as you stare up at him, all awed like you couldn’t believe that he was back and simon wishes he can press his promises to your lips because he will always find a way to come back, he swears on his life, but also—

the child.

“sweetheart?” he begins, soft as to not spook you or the kid. “who’s, uh, who’s that?”

the child shifts, turning his little face from where it was burrowed onto your neck at the sound of simon’s voice. he rests his head on your clavicle, smooshing his already chubby cheek, before the biggest brown eyes that simon’s ever seen stare up at him, all doe-eyed and jarringly innocent, and simon, he—

well, not even babysitting tommy’s kids prepared him for this.

“this is yasha,” you murmur, pulling simon’s attention back to you. “or yakov, or james if he would want an english name.”

the boy reacts to you calling his name, and simon watches as those curious eyes tip up at you in question. you swipe your finger over his nose, the little thing scrunching up at the ticklish feeling, and simon becomes breathless at seeing the unadulterated joy in your face.

it is all parts soft and tender, but also anxious and worried, and simon begins to puzzle out the pieces.

“he’s my foster child. or ours, i guess, now that you’re here.” your voice is so fragile as you reply to him, your hand now beginning to rub soothing nothings on the boy’s back. simon wonders if it’s more to calm yourself down than it is to comfort the boy.

your lips purse, hesitating, and simon waits because while he he’s pieced out what you want to ask, he knows that this is something you would want to truly talk to him about. it is something he knows you have mustered up the courage to bring up so he gives it to you, open and ready, and he hopes that his face and his gait show that whatever it is you would want to say, simon will always support you no matter what.

“si?” you begin, looking heart-wrenchingly small in your worry. “i think i wanna adopt him.”

simon hums, stepping close but also being careful not to crowd yasha, before he curls his arms around you two — his family — and nuzzles his face on your other shoulder. “i’d love that.”

he offers you a smile, and squeezes your arm in comfort, then he watches as the tears come, easily springing up from your eyes. yasha startles, whirling to look up at his mother in worry. simon’s throat constricts at the thought of you being a mother and him, a father; how, now, there is someone else for simon to come home to. someone to fight for.

jesus. he’d need to tell the lads and maybe get wasted as a celebration.

“owies?” yasha asks, chubby fist balling your shirt.

“they’re happy tears, sweetie pie,” you reply, crooning. “i’m just so, so happy.”

yasha hums, nodding, probably already distracted, and simon takes that time to straighten back up. he pushes your hair away from your face, before he pitches forward to press a kiss on your forehead.

yeah, he’s happy too.

.

yasha gets spoiled, not that simon’s complaining given that he’s been the one doing all the spoiling.

“really, si? a new toly?” you ask, arms crossed over your chest in your exasperation.

toly or anatoly, or tory because yasha still can’t speak properly, is the name that yasha gave to all of his new stuffed toys. it all started with a dog plush that simon bought from the supermarket on a whim and gave to the boy. it was laughably quick how yasha had abandoned his blocks to make grabby hands to the toy, before squealing out that name.

the next stuffed toy that yasha received, which was just the softest and roundest penguin plush toy that simon’s ever seen, was also named toly. so was that teddy bear you bought for him. or that reindeer he got for christmas. somehow, every single one had been named toly.

the only thing you and simon can find about toly was that anatoly means sunrise. simon was so sure it was the russian word for animal, because why else would yasha repeat it, but who would have thought that their little fish is so imaginative?

like, of course he’s going to name all of his toys toly because they are as warm as sunrises. see? smart kid.

but this one, this new toly, set off world records. it was a camel plush that simon saw at the airport when he was out, pretending to be a civilian.

(garrick had been assigned with him for that mission, and was quick to spot and mention simon’s on-duty purchase.

“it’s for my boy,” he grunted in reply, forgetting the fact that he’s yet to truly break the news to his squad. garrick had never looked as surprised, and next thing simon knew, the news made its way to their group chat.

price was amiable about the whole thing. mactavish? not so much.

he just about begged to see a picture of yasha — “and yer girl again, if you wouldn’t mind.” — or even visit him. then he invited garrick to come and price invited himself too, so now the guys are going to swing by some time soon.)

when simon gave it to yasha, their boy had stared at it for a solid minute — simon counted — before screaming and then running to snatch the toy from simon’s hold. he hugged the camel close to his person, his little head nuzzling against the plush face of the camel, all the while absolutely vibrating in unabashed excitement.

he picked up thundering footsteps and turned around just enough to see you literally slide into the room. yasha continued to hug the camel, ignorant of the distress he caused, while you looked on in your panic, buzzing with worry because you just heard your boy scream, damn it!

“he’s fine, bub,” simon said before you could ask, and he watched as you came down from your frenzy, your breathing slowing down at the rationalization that if simon was not panicked, then everything’s alright.

then, your eyes landed on the new stuff toy.

“really?” you asked.

in his defence, yasha adores camel-toly.

in your defence, yasha’s room is running out of space for his tolys.

…well, simon does have all that military money. gonna have to spend it on something else, right?

.

[charlie foxtrot]

sriley: link

john2: ????

sriley: new address.

garry: oh? congratulations.

sriley: thanks.

johnp: 👍

.

yasha was shy when saying hi to price, then outright cried when he saw mactavish, which made simon bark out loud in laughter. yasha only stopped sniffling when he saw kyle. in no time, yasha absolutely adored garrick to the point that he would not even let him go.

dinner was prepared and while you called them all to eat, simon ambled out of the kitchen, where he had been helping you, and walked towards kyle and yasha to pick up his son and seat him on his high chair. but yasha had only looked at him, his head tilted in question, before ignoring simon and clinging onto kyle.

hell, he had even let go of camel-toly so that he could use two chubby fists to hold onto kyle. surprised, simon didn’t even know how to react and watched as his sergeant offered him an apologetic smile before carrying his son to the dining room. kyle rounded the table and sat yasha on his high chair, only, yasha made a scene when kyle did so, and he released a lungful of screams and cries, breaking everyone’s eardrums and their hearts.

kyle stood there, worried and confused, and hovered because he did not know what to do. hell, none of them did, and then you walked out of the kitchen, rushing to yasha, and hummed songs to comfort your son.

you crooned when he made grabby hands to be picked up and you did so with no hesitation, your touch soothing the boy into quiet sniffles. but even then, yasha wouldn’t settle down as he wriggled in your arms, short limbs reaching for—

simon glowered.

yasha was reaching for kyle. you were quick to giggle, asking kyle if it was alright that yasha would eat with him, and simon had glared at his sergeant, daring him to deny their son of anything, before reluctantly nodding his approval at kyle’s happy trill of, “of course, ma’am!”

yasha had finally calmed down when you sat him on kyle’s lap, and his boy was even polite enough to actually eat his soft veggies every time kyle beckoned him to open his mouth for a new spoonful.

simon did not startle, but it was close, when your hand landed on his thigh.

“you okay, baby?” you asked, eyes furrowed in your worry.

“yeah,” he remembers replying with, his throat all choked-up because he knows yasha must be excited to have new people to play with, but still, there was something that stung when his boy chose garrick over him.

not that it was kyle’s fault because he is a dear for even doing all that he did for yasha, but simon had hoped that he would always be yasha’s favourite.

too lost in his thoughts, simon had almost missed yasha’s call.

“-ddy? daddy?” yasha asked, startling simon.

it was not the first time yasha called him that, but every time he did, it never fails to make simon melt.

“yeah? what’s up, buddy?”

simon pretended that no one was watching the interaction.

yasha giggled, hiding his food-smeared lips behind his little palms, before turning to use garrick’s front to hide from simon. you snorted, murmuring to kyle how you swear you would wash his shirt before they go, but it’s all buzz to simon because his son — his darling boy — wanted to play with him during dinner.

yasha peeked at him again, before giggling once more when he caught simon’s eyes. this continued on until dinner ended, with simon occasionally miming growling monsters to induce more hearty giggles from his son, and being rewarded with the happiest laughter ever.

simon turned to you, with his heart on his throat, and beamed.

“aww,” mactavish sang from somewhere beside him. “ain’t that adorable— argh!”

simon had swung his arm out and thumped his fist on johnny’s stomach. thank god, yasha had chosen that time to hide his face again on kyle’s stomach.

.

“unca’ john?” yasha asks in a stage-whisper because everyone within earshot just heard him even with his attempt to be quiet. it’s only their training that stopped simon from acting like he’s noticed.

“yeah, bubsy?” john replies, sounding so utterly soft that this version of him is so foreign to simon.

“this tory,” yasha says and simon discreetly peeks to see which toly is being introduced to uncle john — it’s the elephant one.

price gasps theatrically like he hadn’t seen yasha drool all over this elephant toy before, and puffs out, “how cute!”

“mhmm,” yasha says, nodding, then smacks the face of the toy on john’s face. the trunk smooshes against john’s nose, and thank god that elephant-tory is soft because that aim would have been lethal if it wasn’t.

“jesus—” price gasps out.

“language!” simon hisses, and ducks his head back down just before yasha could catch him peeking.

.

yasha is now four and he still gets teary eyed when he sees johnny. simon placates his friend and says it’ll pass soon. maybe.

basically, i wanted to write a fic wherein simon’s reaction to being presented with a child is “what— oh okay, sure why not” and (literally in 20 minutes) “i will kill everything for this child” and so here we are

a simon spinoff - it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

[haologram]

what do i call you? 🕹️ k.mg [m]

synopsis: your best friend is a man of many facets - a creative architecture student, a skilled football player, a wonderful friend and a sought-after lover. not that he'd ever truly glance anyone's way, especially not when his heart has always been set on you. genre: college au, idiots friends to lovers au ; angst, fluff, suggestive ? slightly smutty? themes. pairing: football player!kim mingyu x fem!college journalist!reader word count: 15.3k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, mentions of smoking (weed), mentions of food and eating. mutual pining, vernon is a plot device (because i love him.) mentions of infidelity and situationships. vernon calls reader bunny. mingyu and y/n are fucking stupid. mentions of omegas (i had to do it.) kissing, petnames (baby, honey, pretty, etc.) brief dry humping, making out. what to listen to: what do i call you? - taeyeon ; run for the hills - tate mcrae ; number one girl - rosé ; rain - swv ; hooked on your love - en vogue ; cherish the day - sade ; call me baby - exo. author's note: happiest birthday to my dear @tomodachiii ♡ i hope you forgive me for having been so ominous in the chat, and know that i love you so dearly. also, i was going to write the smut but i chickened out, mingyu is just too sexy for my brain. please eat well and stay healthy. also, thank you to both @100vern & @wonuwoe for giving me their journalism insight, as i am unfortunately a woman in stem that knows nothing about it.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRITING THE COLUMN ABOUT ME?"

You roll your eyes, sighing as your fingers rub your temples. Your best friend is currently seated not even five feet away, his lower lip jutted out in a pout as the steam from his oxtail bone soup wafts in his face. You'd been attempting to soothe his woes about the stupid column piece for the last thirty minutes, even bribing him by saying you'd spend your last twenty dollars on dessert if he dropped the topic. While nothing can get in the way of Mingyu and his food, his best friend writing a column about a sport he plays, giving one player spotlight, and not choosing him was something he simply could not let go. "Y/N, that's not fair."

"Except it is, Gyu. All the features I've written this season have been about you. One more and people might think I'm in love with you." You huff, forcing your lips into a smile as the waitress slides your order of soft tofu stew in front of you. You thank her quietly, and she simply nods her head curtly before going about her way. Mingyu eyes your bowl, the pout on his lips only deepening as you sigh, sliding your bowl over for him to dip his spoon into.

"I just think you should care about me more." He sniffs, blowing softly on the spoonful of broth from your stew. You quirk a brow as he brings the spoon to his mouth, your own lips twitching slightly at the roll of his eyes from the perfect balance of flavors on his tongue. You loved watching him eat, it was one of your favorite past times.

Not that he needed to know that.

"Mingyu, I do care about you. The newspaper has given me six columns this season alone, and I've interviewed you every single time. Let someone else have a chance." You take your bowl back, but not before he spears the jiggly tofu with his spoon, making you snicker as he burns his tongue on it.

"Why would I do that when you're my best friend? Are you saying you want to give someone else that chance? Like who, Chan? You know he smells like macaroni, right? And he bites." Mingyu breathes around the hot piece of tofu in his mouth, and you only laugh as you slide his bowl of rice closer to you. You take a bit on your spoon, dipping it into your stew before shrugging your shoulders.

"Mingyu, everyone knows you're a star, okay? You've scored sixty-two out of sixty-seven touchdowns so far, and that's just this season. You're the only quarterback in Hawk history that hasn't blown out his shoulder, which is insane. You're one of the best players in terms of field time and academics. That thing you made for your Architectural Design course? Your Apartment of a Lonely Soul model? You got displayed at the Museum of Arts for that two fucking weeks ago, and I put you in the paper for that. The people love Kim Mingyu, I think it's only fair that I give someone else a smidge of the spotlight."

He rolls his eyes, but you see the faint blush creeping on his cheeks and ears as he takes a sip of his water.

Whether you care to admit it or not, you know that the people you speak of, also refer to you. 

You know that the way you write about Mingyu in your columns is the way a proud friend does, someone who cares, someone who loves him – and you know it shows bias. You know that if anyone watched your relationship with Mingyu from afar, they could tell how much you care about him, how much he means to you, how much you love him.

And you're worried that one day, someone might look too close and realize that your love for him is nothing even remotely close to platonic.

It hasn't been for the last six years of your life-long friendship.

If someone asks you, you're honest. You tell them Mingyu has been your best friend for years. You tell them that you've soothed his broken heart time and time again, that he's held your hair while you've thrown up and he's scared off shitty guys constantly. You tell them that when he's drunk, he sends you ramblings on Snapchat and eventually makes his way to your apartment to crash on your couch. You tell them that you feed him before he crashes, and make him hydrate before he goes down.

You tell them that your mom loves Mingyu, and how helpful he is when he goes home with you every so often. You tell them that he makes the best short rib soup and you've never seen someone so willing to build a bookshelf with your father. You tell them that Mingyu gets along well with your siblings, even going as far as going home with you one summer to coach your little brother's flag football team with your dad.

And then, like always – they tell you that there's no man that does that for anyone he sees as just his friend.

You choose to ignore it.

You continue to write your pieces about him, long-winded and full of purple prose in order to talk him up. You're of the idea that everyone who is capable of loving, should love Mingyu. They do, everyone on campus adores the gentle giant that he is – everyone includes girl after girl after girl. Mingyu has had three girlfriends in the twenty years that you've been his friend. He's definitely the kind of guy that likes to commit – each one lasted anywhere from a year to three. His last one, Sowon, lasted a year and a half – before he found out that she was hooking up with a guy (read: your ex-boyfriend, Daewon) on the baseball team while he was at practice. 

He didn't even need her to confirm it, because he walked in on it in the men's locker room. He'd been twenty minutes late to practice, opting to drive you to a game tech convention on the other side of town. You'd practically begged him to, saying that you wanted to write a report about it for your Digital Media course and he just couldn't say no. He doesn't remember exactly what he said to her, her eyes full of guilt and regret as she quickly dressed herself and pushed past him. However, he does remember the odd feeling in his chest, and the way he tried to figure it out as he skipped practice and drove all the way back to the other side of town to pick you up.

He remembers the look on your face when you came out of the convention with your phone in hand to get a rideshare, only to see him parked front and center waiting for you against the grill of his old pick-up truck. He didn't want to talk about it, but essentially told you things between them were over as he drove the two of you to the very same diner the two of you are sitting at now, ordering all of his favorites and scarfing them down while he asked you to tell him everything about the convention. It was the most dejected you'd ever seen him look, but you also knew Mingyu well.

There was a hint of relief behind the glaze of hurt.

That was a year ago. Now, the two of you are sitting on the impending doom of graduation. You're awaiting a call back from an internship you applied to last year, and Mingyu was awaiting a letter from a Masters' program. You were both single, your last situationship ending shortly after starting because the guy was convinced you and Mingyu had a thing – simply because he came over (uninvited, unannounced) on a night where Mingyu insisted you watch the entirety of Park Chanwook's Vengeance trilogy. You didn't care too much – not when the two of you were nervous wrecks, doing everything and anything to fill your racing minds and not think about your futures.

Much like sitting in this diner and sharing a meal, your foot resting on the side of his thigh as he sits on the opposite side of the booth.

"You're too far away." He pouts, before sliding his bowl across the table and standing up, slipping next to you in the cracked vinyl booth. You worm slightly closer to the window, pretending the sudden wave of his spicy cologne doesn't make your head spin. It settled so well with the powdery scent of his detergent, the softer smell that reminded you of laying on a blanket with him, stargazing out on the football field during spring midterms. 

You can't hide the way your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your spoon, but Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing.

"You cold? You're shaking like a leaf." He eyes you with a raised brow, and doesn't allow you to respond before you feel him tug his hefty letterman jacket off. The black leather sleeves brush your sweater, and you find yourself being cocooned in the warmth that now filled the jacket, radiating off your best friend's body with ease. "You're a human furnace, Mingyu." You mutter to yourself, feeling him ruffle your hair as he moves his water closer to him, opting to rearrange all the side dishes as you carefully inched away from him. You could be caught staring and Mingyu wouldn't tease you about it, you knew that much – but to be caught tensing at the brushing of your thigh with his, your arm with his, your hand with his…would be much more embarrassing.

"So I've been told. Don't think you're gonna butter me up into forgetting about the fact that you hate me, Y/N." He gives you a pointed look as he stirs his soup, your jaw dropping slightly to gape up at him.

"Oh my God, Mingyu! I don't hate you, you're making this a bigger deal than it is!" You whine, but don't miss the way he smiles around his straw, his broad shoulders taking up way too much of your space as he shrugs. 

"I mean, six pieces on me in one season, but you won't make your last piece about me? And it's to spotlight a player? You've been giving me the spotlight all season! You can't take it away from me, I'll get withdrawals." "Mingyu, there has gotta be something I can do to get you to get over this. I already offered to pay for dessert, and I'm letting you pick. What else do you want from me?" Your voice is exasperated, but you don't like the glint of mischief in Mingyu's eyes as he looks down at you. He traces your features, before a soft smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"What are you doing Friday night?" "Mingyu." "You're not doing me, sweetheart. I need you to focus." You gape inwardly, scoffing out a laugh and running your hand through your hair as you tilt slightly to face him. He's already looking at you, his tongue running over his lower lip as you meet his eyes.

"I mean…unless you want to." "You are so fucking irritating." You scoff, shoving his shoulder as he giggles. Mingyu rarely made comments like that, but when he did, it was like he was the master of timing. He loved to catch you off guard, even going as far as pinching your cheek or sidling up to you really close to emphasize his point. He'd give you that cheeky smile, he'd look at you like you put the stars in the sky and sometimes, just sometimes, those eyes would dart down to your lips before flickering away and ending the bit.

All in good fun, you always thought. 

Of course you'd thought about it, about him. About what being a lover to him would be like, about what he was like as a boyfriend. You saw it, the way he treated his girlfriends – with the utmost care, the biggest gentleman you'd ever met. He held doors open, he carried them over puddles, he retired his jackets and hoodies to their shoulders if the air even had a hint of a chill in it.

But, he cooked for you. He cleaned for you, he helped you with your projects and asked for your opinion on his. He held you close, no matter who was in his life – and it became a point of contention in his relationships. So much so that any girl that he began talking to had to meet you first – and he'd observe quietly. He'd watch you try to befriend them, how your animated personality often dwindled in their presence. He'd notice the way your smile would softly fade, often replaced with a furrow in your brows before you glanced at him, as if to say, next.

You approved of Sowon, because she was sweet. She was nice to you, and she was nice to Mingyu, until she wasn't. 

You approved of his longest girlfriend, Soyoung, because she tried her hardest to get along with you and even invited you to her own social gatherings – regardless of if Mingyu would be in attendance or not. The two ended when Soyoung decided she wasn't built for sharing Mingyu's attention, and he let her go without so much as a second thought. 

You approved of his first girlfriend, Sohee, because you were all idiots in high school and you didn't think it would matter that much to Mingyu – and you'd told him so.

You also did it because it was year two of you dealing with your newfound romantic feelings for Mingyu, and you figured if he had a girlfriend – he wouldn't notice the way you drifted from him. If it meant keeping your friendship and dissolving your romantic feelings for the puppy-eyed man, you would take the leap of being distant. However, return to the abovementioned point: Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing. He broke things off with Sohee after a year, noticeably missing your presence and seeking you out so much your mother asked you if you were dating. You remember the look of pity in her eyes when you'd answered in the negative.

"What, Miss Y/N, are you doing on Friday night?" You try to ignore the smile on his lips as he leans slightly closer, closing your eyes as you sigh. "Nothing, Mingyu. I'm not doing anything." "Now you are." "I'm broke, Gyu."

"Pretty girls never pay, hm?"  He gives you a pointed look, and you sink slightly into his jacket, sliding a bit down the booth as your cheeks burn. He only laughs, his warm fingers pinching the fat of your cheek before you swat him away. "God, you'd think I've never complimented you. We've been friends our entire lives, what's your deal?" "Nothing! You're just a twerp who doesn't mean it." You stick your tongue out at him, before feeling the tips of his fingers graze your jaw. He tilts your head up to face him, a quizzical look in his eyes.

"What makes you say that? You think I say things just to make you feel better?" You raise a brow as his fingers squish your cheeks together, your lips puckering slightly as you reply, "I mean…don't you?" "No, Y/N. I don't. I think you're pretty, why would I lie about that?" He scoffs, before tilting his head in the direction of your stew. "Eat." The rest of the meal was spent in comfortable silence, your cheeks remaining hot under his soft gaze and gentle gestures. He drove the two of you to get dessert across town, his card hitting the reader before you could even fish out your wallet to spend your last twenty dollars as promised. He wiped your face of stray cookie crumbs as you ate in his car with the heat blasting, your own hand swatting him away constantly.

He walked you up to your apartment, biting back his laugh as your roommate, Hansol, nearly fell on his ass trying to pry open the living room window to air out the smell of weed. He smiled hazily at Mingyu, before Mingyu's best friend appeared out of your bathroom, stoned out of his mind.

"Sol, you said you wouldn't hotbox the living room again." You groan, setting your purse down on the foyer table. He winces, before pointing at Wonwoo.

"His idea." "Your apartment, idiot." Wonwoo rolls his bloodshot eyes, and Mingyu only grimaces as he quietly offers to let you spend the night at his place. You decline it almost immediately, not wanting a repeat of the first (and last) time you ever spent the night at Mingyu's apartment. Yours had flooded, and Hansol had found solace in his girlfriend's arms (and apartment) while you were left to fend for yourself.

Not really. Not if Mingyu had any say in it – and he did.

That night was like a scene out of a movie, the way he literally slammed into you fresh out of the shower. You remember the perfect way the moonlight lit him up through the cracked window, the drops of water on his abdomen burned into your brain. You also remember sleeping on the very edge of his bed that night, so much so that he eventually moved to the floor to let you get a good night's rest. You left the next day to invade Hansol and his girlfriend, Saerom, for the next two days while your apartment was fixed. 

Neither of you spoke about it since, and you thanked your lucky stars that it was never brought up.

You let Wonwoo and Hansol bicker on your ratty couch, rolling your eyes as you held the door for Mingyu. He leaned against the doorway slightly, smiling down at you through perfectly bitten pink lips.

"I'll see you around, Gyu." You offer softly, rolling your eyes and tilting your head towards the two stoners now fighting over the remote to watch movies on your Amazon Prime account. "Friday." He corrects, and you suddenly realize how easily he stares at you like he knows something about you. You clear your throat, your cheeks growing even hotter as he tilts your chin up to look at him. "Say it. Say you'll see me on Friday. I'll pick you up from the office." "I'll see you on Friday." You murmur, earning a wink from him. 

"See you, pretty." He spins on his heel, tucking his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket as he barrels down the stairs of your apartment complex. You watch over the railing as he gets to his car, waving as he looks up. He waves back, opening his car door and almost instantly pulling out of the parking lot.

What you don't know is how he settles into the way your citrus perfume is now infused with his on the material of his jacket. His cheeks are warm at the idea of your flustered state in the diner earlier, and when you were sitting in his car eating your cookies. How your shy smile was only ever present around him, immediately disappearing if someone else joined your conversations or if you were around literally anyone else.

Like he made you nervous, something he'd noticed almost a decade ago. The way he could listen to you, talk to you, look at you all day – and you just brushed it off like it was nothing but you couldn't hide the twinge of fluster in your voice around him. The way you constantly talked about him if you thought he wasn't listening. How you wrote all your pieces about him, and how all his friends teased him about how in love you sounded. How enamored you sounded when you wrote about him, how passionate you were about sharing him and his success with the world to appreciate. He could date these pieces back to the first semester of your freshman year together, but he's liked you far longer than that.

Mingyu knew a lot of things, but he knew you best. You hadn't ever cared about someone the way you had him, and you made it very obvious. He crossed all his fingers, hoping the feeling in his chest when you brushed against him was something you felt, too. Hoping that you also settled in your bed and your only thoughts before closing your eyes were of him as his were of you. 

Hoping that you liked him, in the same way. Hoping that you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours, what it would feel like to slot your fingers together in more than just a platonic way. He wondered if you'd let him kiss you breathless, he wondered if your eyes lingered on him that night because you liked what you saw. 

Yeah, Mingyu likes you. He likes you a lot.

"NO CAN DO, Y/N. YOU ALREADY SAID YOU'D INTERVIEW LEE CHAN."

Hansol was sitting on the edge of his desk with a lollipop between his lips, looking over the rough drafts of your fellow journalists. How all of you at the Hawk Review ended up under Hansol Chwe was beyond you, but you weren't complaining. He was smart and calculated, creative, and he figured out a way to redirect some of the funding to better snacks and a Keurig for the Hawk Review Committee. 

And you can't lie, either – he was a very just and fair editor. He didn't let just anyone onto the committee, often going through rigorous interviewing processes (for virtually no reason except vibes) and even going as far as making you his second in command – so long as you agreed that what happened at the HRC, stayed at the HRC. As your editor, he was more than willing to listen to you drone on and on about literally anything having to do with any of your columns or articles. As your roommate, Hansol did not want to talk about the committee at all – he preferred throwing popcorn at you while you bickered over who was dumber in How I Met Your Mother. You both agreed it was definitely Ted for the majority of the show.

"I'm gonna have to pull a veto on that, Chwe. I need to write about Mingyu." You sigh frustratedly, running a hand through your hair as you stuff your laptop into your tote. Hansol eyes you, before sliding the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing it at you.

"You are down atrociously for that guy, you know that? The dating rumors that I've had to deny for you are driving me towards the brink of insanity." You scoff in offense, your mouth attempting to form around words but only resulting in odd noises before you cover your face with your hands.

"Hansol!" "Y/N!" "I am not down anything for Mingyu, okay? I just know that if as a journalist, consistency is key, is it not? If I have put my best foot forward towards a project, in this case, interviewing Mingyu regularly for my columns…wouldn't it be just and fair, as a journalist with a semi-Mingyu-based following, to give him Spotlight of The Season? Wouldn't it be, oh wise one, something just and fair to have him be the topic of my last column as your second-in-command, Editor Chwe?"

Hansol only smiles, shaking his head before sighing. "You drive a hard bargain, Y/N." "So I've been told. Please, Sol. Mingyu will kill me if I don't do my last piece on him." You clasp your hands in front of you, jutting your lips out in a pout as you bat your lashes at him. He only snorts, tossing his unfinished lollipop into the trash can. He slides into the chair behind the heavy mahogany desk, a glint of mischief in his eyes that you can't quite place as he opens his laptop. He types away as you cross your arms across your chest, bearing your weight on one foot, tapping the other nervously.

"Well, let's see. You've written six columns on Mingyu this year alone, and one of them had nothing to do with football. Your column about his exhibit at the Museum of Arts last month was actually a great piece." He peers at you over the top of his laptop, and you tilt your head. "The Museum emailed our coordinator, you know. Said that your piece brought their ticket sales up by five percent." Your jaw drops slightly, "You're kidding." "I'm not." He shrugs, returning his line of vision to the laptop in front of him. You can see the way his cheeks move slightly, as if he's suppressing a smile, "You know, the coordinator who writes the recommendation letters for our internships. Mrs. Lee." "Hansol, if you're kidding, please shut up right now." Your voice is whiny as he smiles softly. You'd only ever seen him smile that way when he's going to deliver good news, as if to soften the blow, lessen the shock value. A smile that screams you deserve this, and everything good that comes your way.

"Mrs. Lee asked me what I thought of you, Y/N." He leaned back in his chair, pulling the drawer open and taking out yet another lollipop. He offers you one, and you take the green apple, unwrapping it as you lean on the desk. "She also asked me if I'd be willing to write your recommendation letter." Your eyes widen, "Hansol, please–" "Don't beg me. I hate it when you beg." He rolls his eyes, turning his laptop to face you. It's open to Y/N LETTER - DRAFT 2 OF 6. You can feel your nose burn as tears sting your eyes, and he closes the laptop before speaking.

"It will still go through Mrs. Lee for review, and for her to add her own notes. I think your dedication to the Hawk Review Committee has been absolutely insane. You've never failed to deliver, and everyone always loves your pieces, whether they're about Mingyu's abilities as a quarterback, Mingyu's talent for architecture and eye for what looks good. I think you're right, consistency as a journalist is key." He nods, giving you a knowing look.

"I'm sensing a but, here."

"But, I won't submit something that goes against what is true. I wrote in here that I think you're a brave individual who takes on any challenge life gives you. Submitting that when I know it's simply not true is a violation of ethics, giving false information and whatnot." He taps the metal of his laptop, and your brows furrow.

"What?" "I'm not submitting this until you tell Mingyu that you're in love with him. That gives you…" He checks his phone, "Three days. Three days to confess, so I can submit this to Mrs. Lee and she can get it in at your internship before the deadline closes and you're inevitably out of an opportunity at your own volition." Your jaw drops fully, "You're kidding." "I can assure you, Miss Y/N, I am not." He smiles lazily, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back. You scoff, but nothing tells you he's serious more than the way he opens his phone and sets a timer for seventy-two hours. "Three. Days. Hop to, bunny." "Hansol." "Oh, and I need your Spotlight of the Season column by then, too. Gotta skim through to make sure you don't say he's the love of your life in paragraph three again." "Oh, fuck you! That was one time!" You pout, "Don't do this to me, Vern. I literally helped you get that date with Saerom last year!" "And look at me now, Y/N!" He holds up his phone, a picture of him and Saerom filling the screen. "Just because you don't have balls, doesn't mean you can't have balls, you know?" "Wise words from Hansol Vernon Chwe." You hear Mingyu's voice fill the room, making you jump as Hansol smiles. He winks at you, before making a shooing motion with his hand.

"Get outta here, Y/N. And I want that damn column on the desk before Monday at six, you hear me?" He points the new lollipop at you, and you ignore the way your cheeks heat as Mingyu's arm drapes around your shoulders and he bids Hansol goodbye. You flip Hansol the bird as he makes kissing faces at you, Mingyu pulling you towards the door of the office.

"How was your day?" He asks as the door closes behind you, the chill of the November air piercing through your thin cardigan and making you regret the short skirt you chose earlier that day. You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to tell him to cut it out with the small talk – when his fingers pluck the lollipop out from between your lips and plant it straight onto his tongue.

"Mingyu! You're so gross!" You gape at him, swatting his side as he giggles around the hard candy, scooting away from you. His arm that was around your shoulder falls to his side, before you notice the way he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, making you hold your hands out in protest. "No. Keep it, it's cold." "You're shivering." He says matter-of-factly, and you try to ignore the forming green tint on his lips from your lollipop, your eyes flickering up to his with a feigned look of confidence.

"I'm in the presence of a collegiate football superstar and future architect of the coolest buildings in our city, forgive me for being a little excited." You huff dramatically as you feel his warm jacket being draped over your shoulders. A defeated sigh escapes from your lips as his hands rest on your shoulders, guiding you out of the Literature building and towards his old pick-up.

You remember when he got it, the powder blue paint job with white detailing being a choice from his father before he passed it down to Mingyu. It was a 1992 GMC Sierra 1500, and he was definitely too big to fit in the cab but he loved that old thing more than anything in this world. He learned how to drive in it when he was sixteen, and his father finally gifted it to him on his eighteenth birthday – you remember being half-awake, toothbrush still in your mouth when you started getting shaken like maraca when he came to pick you up for school the next morning. Your mom did not trust Mingyu to drive you both to school, but with Mingyu's puppy eyes comes a certain brand of begging that no one can say no to.

Granted, he almost crashed from excitement but you both made it safe and sound.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask suddenly, remembering nothing had been discussed the night he brought it up. He shrugged, opening the passenger side door and helping you into the bench seat. 

"Just relax, okay? It's, like, a twenty-minute drive." 

You struggle not to roll your eyes, settling into the felt cushion and sliding your tote onto the dash. You pop open his glove box, his collection of cassettes messily thrown in. You pluck out a random one, hearing him pry open his door and settle in his seat, the rickety door definitely needing a good wipedown with WD-40.

"Only you would have a cassette collection." You hold up his November Rain cassingle by Guns N' Roses, and he snorts inwardly. It was a senseless dig, because cassettes were all his car radio could read. It was either the cassettes or the staticky sound of the FM radio…so, pass.

"You're judging me, but I went out and found that En Vogue Funky Divas cassette for you. Remember, bidding on eBay is not good for you, sweetheart." He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the still-wrapped cassette tape you'd fought some fifty-year-old woman for on eBay weeks prior. Your eyes widen, a huge grin spreading on your lips as you pluck it from his fingers, holding it to your chest.

"Oh, you love me, Kim Mingyu!" You squeal, and he rolls his eyes, reaching over you to buckle you in. You allow it, carefully peeling back the plastic wrap. Listen, you're a twenty-something in the twenty-first century, it's not that serious. (It is that serious, what did you fight that woman for if it wasn't to just keep it as a collector's item?)

"Hooked on Your Love should be side B." He says softly, shoving his key into the ignition as you crack open the plastic case. You nod, your smile still wide as you slip the cassette into the player, his hand moving to rest on your headrest as he backs out of his parking spot. 

You ignore the flutter in your stomach, before the sound of It Ain't Over 'Til The Fat Lady Sings fills the cab. You nod your head along to it, before glancing over at Mingyu and seeing a small bandage across his cheekbone. Your hand instinctively floats up to it, your fingers stroking his skin gently as he pulls up to a red light.

"What happened here, Gyu?" He looks at it in the rearview, his lip jutted in a pout. "Kiss it better and I'll tell." You snort, "Yeah, right." "I'm serious! I'm injured, oh, I'm so hurt." He feigns distress, clutching his chest just as the light turns green. You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to face forward. The sun is setting, the light hitting Mingyu's skin just right as you will your eyes away.

"Seriously, Gyu. Did you get hurt?" "Nah. It was Media Day, the stylist wanted something rugged. I didn't personally get it and she didn't explain how a singular bandage would convey that, but it's also not my expertise. I just let her do what she wanted." He shrugs, and you hum in response as he peels it off.

The silence between you, again, is comfortable.

But the growing knot in your stomach at his proximity, the smell of his cologne on his jacket surrounding you, the way the sun is making him look borderline fucking angelic – it's suffocating. You sigh inwardly, leaning your arm on the door and resting your head against your palm. You nod along to the music, your eyes scanning all the streets to see if you can figure out where Mingyu is taking you. He wasn't a secretive guy, but you couldn't ignore the roaring butterflies in your stomach at the idea that maybe he…had something planned.

Mingyu loved to plan things for the two of you to do. However, with your dedication to journalism, his practice and games and his studies – everything was far more sporadic and spontaneous. You didn't mind, you loved spending time with him in any way – but you were both sentimental people in the way that planning things you both knew you'd like was far more enjoyable.

You feel your cheeks burn at the realization that people weren't exactly wrong in assuming the two of you were a couple. You hated to admit it to yourself, because it was like giving into false hope and delusion. Sure, you were never going to think that you weren't enough for Mingyu – you were. At the end of the day, he is just a man. A man who picks his nose, probably.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Mingyu's voice tears you from your thoughts, ones so clouding that you didn't even realize the car had stopped moving, the ending notes of Hooked On Your Love playing through the cab. You pouted, before looking up at him and seeing the old arcade you used to frequent during freshman year. Your eyes widen, noticing that you're parked under the same old tree you always parked beneath.

"Gyu, we haven't been here since freshman year." "I know. I figured we could just have a good time because I'm not sure if I'll have time after the semifinals. Everyone's super pessimistic about the championships this year." He shrugs, killing the engine. You only nod along, clearing your throat as you realize how empty the parking lot is. For a Friday evening, that's unusual.

"Kind of empty, isn't it?" You mumble as he unlocks the door, not missing his smile in the side mirror as he slides out of his seat. You move to open your door, but he's already yanking it open, offering his hand to help you step down. Tugging your tote over your shoulder, you climb down and reluctantly pull your hand out of his as you shut the door.

"Did you know that museums pay you for displaying your work in their galleries?" He starts, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. You suck in a breath, a little too loud for your taste as you cough.

"Really? That's great, Gyu. I assume they shelled out a few hundred bucks, huh? I know I would for Apartment of a Lonely Soul. I'd display the shit out of that at my place." You scoff, wrapping your arm loosely around his waist. He hums, his fingers twirling in loose strands of your hair as you glance up at him. He has a mischievous smile playing on his lips as you both near the doors of the arcade. It's empty inside, making you dig your heels into the pavement.

"Gyu, maybe it's closed." You frown, but he raps his knuckles against the glass door in a pattern that reminds you of Hot for Teacher by Van Halen. You wait quietly, seeing your good friend Soonyoung turning the corner of the cashier's booth inside. He grins widely at you through the glass door, unlocking it quickly.

"Mingyu. Y/N." He greets, and you can't help but narrow your eyes as Mingyu pushes you forward through the threshold. He takes your bag off your shoulder and hands it to Soonyoung, who drapes it over his own shoulder before holding his hand out.

"You two…what did you do?" Your suspicion only makes Mingyu laugh, and you see him slide something, presumably money, into Soonyoung's hand before he turns his attention back to you. Soonyoung flips the sign to say CLOSED, the click of the lock making your eyes flit up to him. He only smiles, pocketing the money and strolling away, whistling the melody of Galaxy by Taeyeon.

"What do you wanna do first? Skeeball? Air hockey? Bowling?" Mingyu's hands on your shoulders are reassuring, the pads of his thumbs working soft circles into your trap muscles. You nibble on your lip, turning your head to look over your shoulder back at him.

"Did you rent this place out with the money the museum gave you?" You ask softly, trying to hide the subtle hint of disappointment in your voice. You had a horrible habit of insisting that Mingyu not spend money on you, something he brushed off time and time again. He peers down at you, a quirk in his brow as he smiles.

"Just pick a game, sweetheart."

You try not to show your increasing suspicion, your gut feeling telling you he's buttering you up for something as he guides you towards the bowling alley. The music playing in the arcade is louder than normal, and you try to focus on the sound of By Your Side by Sade playing through the speakers.

"Have they always played Sade? Last time we were here, I swear they were playing, like, Cascada and Keri Hilson." You look up at Mingyu, who just rolls his eyes as he makes you sit down on a bench in front of the bowling alley, kneeling in front of you and yanking your shoes off.

"You always focus this much on things that are so minuscule? We're at an arcade, alone. No lines, no screaming, no odd Dorito-Eating, Mountain-Dew drinking, Piña-Colada-Vaping gamers fighting us for our spot in the Galaga queue." He makes it all sound so magical, like the two of you didn't get a bunch of sixteen year olds kicked out several times the last few times you visited the arcade.

"Gyu–" "Just chill, okay? And if I have to guilt trip you, I will. I'm not above it." He says pointedly, slipping the bowling shoes over your socked feet as you huff. You cross your arms as he ties the laces, before his warm hands splay across your knees. He smiles as your legs jerk at the sudden contact, before giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Now, beat me in two frames and I'll get us tickets to that furry convention that I know you're going to want to write a piece about." He stands, tugging you up from the bench and towards one of the alleys.

And it's easy. It's so easy to forget everything when you're with Mingyu, watching the way his shoulders tense under the tight black t-shirt he's wearing as he swings his ball back perfectly. The way his thick thighs are hugged by the slim fitting jeans he was wearing, the black watch on his wrist distracting you from the way his fingers slid easily into the bowling ball…

You don't manage to beat him in two frames, or three. Or four.

You don't win a single game, your brain entirely too distracted by just how couple-y this all seemed. How boyfriend-like Mingyu was acting, as he took you all over the arcade. He didn't ever go easy on you, beating you in game after game – air hockey, three games of Street Fighter II. He even managed to scam you out of the few coins you managed to get out of the coin pusher, before pulling you over to the Skee-ball machines.

"If you lose, you're buying dinner." He says pointedly, gathering the wooden balls in his hand as you gape up at him.

"This is so fucking unfair, Mingyu! You literally play football!" You stomp your foot like a petulant child, only making him laugh softly.  "But if I offer to go easy on you, you'll complain. So which is it? Do you want me to have a filling dinner or do you want to win the weasel way?" He tilts his head at you, brow cocked high on his face as you scoff, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and shoving it into his chest, grabbing the balls from his hands. He slides the jacket on with a grin, watching the way you count the balls with your eyes. 7..8..9…Before looking up, your lip jutted out in a pout. "No way you just called me a weasel, Kim Mingyu." "Yes way. What're you gonna do about it, weasel?" He flicks the tip of your nose, making your brows furrow as you push past him to stand in front of the lane. He leans on Mrs. Pac-Man, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he watches you carefully. Your shoulders are too tense as you land a ball in the 40 zone, your elbows too stiff as another gracefully slips off the edge of 30 into the 10 when you turn around.

"Stop staring at me, I can feel the heat of your eyes on my back."

"Wasn't looking at your back, sweetheart." He chides, making you scoff and turn back around, rotating your wrist as you assume position. He steps forward slightly, sliding his arm around your waist and tilting you forward a bit. He feels your back stiffen as you suck in a breath, almost like he scared you.

"Mingyu!" Almost.

"You're too tense. This is a game of grace, Y/N. Just relax." He murmurs, his other hand wrapping loosely around your wrist. You can feel his hips pressed against you, but it's fully innocent – aside from where your mind goes. He swings your arm back before pushing it forward and you let the ball slip from your fingers. You're grimacing as you watch it, feeling your lips twitch as it falls perfectly into the 100 zone.

"You just got lucky."  You mutter, feeling his chest move against your back as he laughs. "Yeah? Just luck, huh?" Your breath hitches as his hits the back of your neck, and you curse yourself internally as he drums his fingers on the expanse of your belly. Swatting his hand away, you push him back but he doesn't move away. In fact, his arm around you tightens, pulling you slightly closer as you twist your head to look up at him.

"Then those hundred points should count in my favor, shouldn't they?" You gape up at him, his smile all too warm and inviting as he winks at you, his finger coming to your chin and manually closing your mouth. "Focus, sweetheart."

He turns your face back to the lane, and you huff out a breath. "This feels like that meme of a broke guy holding onto his girlfriend while she pays for his shit." "I hold you all the time, it's never bothered you before." He shrugs behind you, and you feel him settle his chin on your shoulder as his other arm wraps around you, linking his fingers above your navel. You can't help but roll your eyes, the action the only thing keeping you grounded as you reluctantly swing the rest of the balls in. 50, 40, 40, 30, 10.

"Last one." He whispers, his fingers lightly squeezing the softness of your belly between them. You squirm, elbowing his ribs lightly. "Get away from me! I'm going to lose if you keep doing this." You whine, and he only giggles as he slides his arms away from around you. Huffing, you smooth your shirt and shake yourself off, assuming your position in front of the lane and swinging your arm back in the perfect slope for a 100…

…When you feel Mingyu's fingers poke at your sides, making you squeal and the ball goes barreling into the 30 zone.

"Mingyu!" You push his arm lightly as he laughs, grabbing your wrist to stop you from landing a smack to his shoulder. He pulls you into him, and you feel your stomach flip as you slap his chest.  "You've been hanging out with Jeonghan, haven't you? And you have the nerve to call me a weasel?!" "You would've lost anyway, sweetheart. You've got 350 points on the roster, there's no way you're not buying dinner." He taunts you, his nose mere centimeters from yours as he smiles. You're silent, the proximity far too much to even let out a breath when you feel your lips twitch into a scowl.

"You're not playing fair, Gyu." "You're cute, honey. Now watch this." He lets you slip from his grasp, slipping another quarter into the game and receiving his share of the wooden balls. And you, like an idiot – watch him. You watch him land 100 after 100, only once landing in the 50 zone. 850 points, 950 if you count the ones he got for you. He looks over his shoulder, eyes peering down at you with a glint you can't place as you cross your arms.

"I think I'd like to try that new place on Sixth Street." He says proudly, making you scoff in disbelief as he throws his arm over your shoulders. You shove him away lamely, only feeling his fingers pinch your cheek as he cooed. "Don't be such a sore sport, Y/N. Skeeball is not your forte." "Neither are any of these other games, apparently." You grumble as he leads you through the arcade, his thumb lightly rubbing back and forth on your jaw. He hums, pulling you into him impossibly closer.

"You wanna win something?" He asks gently, and you shake your head. You can almost hear him smiling, because you're not looking up at him, no fucking way – when he tilts your jaw up to face him. "C'mon. What do you want to play? Pac-Man?" "No." "Space Invaders?"

"No." "Oooh, Sunset Riders?"

"Mingyu." You rolled your eyes as he leaned against one of the air hockey tables, keeping you close. Your lip was jutted in a pout, making him laugh softly as he enveloped you in a hug. Your hands pushed against his torso in an attempt to push him away. He sucks his teeth, looking down at you. Your eyes look guilty, and you can feel it sinking into your stomach as he analyzes you. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but you know the words that come out aren't what he's thinking.

"Tell you what, we can take pictures in the photobooth and I'll buy dinner." You hate how you instantly light up, your hands now fisting the fabric of his shirt as he rolls his eyes, not bothering to hide his smile. "See? How aren't you a weasel when you make me feel bad and now I'm the one paying for dinner?" "You said it yourself, pretty girls never pay." You reply smugly, your lips stretching into a smile as he scoffs. However, it seems like the world stills as he smooths your hair down, thumbing at your earrings – a pair he got you ages ago for your birthday – and mumbling.

"I did say that, didn't I?" He nods, before seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in and pushing off the air hockey table. You stumble back a bit, but your grip on his shirt is enough to keep you upright as his arm tightens around your waist. "Easy, pretty. Need you in one piece for these photos." "And dinner!" You manage to stutter out, making him shake his head as he pulls you near the booth. The two of you see Soonyoung and his coworkers lounging around the cashier's booth, casually chattering while passing around a baby blue dab pen. Neither you nor Mingyu say anything, but neither does Soonyoung as he catches your eye – and he makes kissing faces at you. 

Enough that you stick your tongue out at him, the feeling of Mingyu's fingers sliding between yours is the only thing that brings you back to reality. The photobooth had been much bigger the last time you came here – or maybe Mingyu had been much smaller? He takes up over ¾ of the bench inside, and you scoff. "Where am I supposed to sit?" Mingyu glances up at you, shrugging as he pats his thigh. "Hop to." "Yeah right, Gyu. Make yourself smaller." "I'd make the booth bigger if I could, Y/N. Just not possible." He speaks as if he really cares that the two of you have outgrown the photobooth meant for children, shrugging his shoulders before patting his leg again. "C'mon, pretty." You sigh, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder at Soonyoung. He just smiles, wiggling his brows as he takes a rip from the pen before handing it to Minghao. Mingyu holds his hand out, and you take it to steady yourself before pulling the curtain closed (much to Soonyoung's dismay.) You barely perch on his leg, smoothing your skirt slightly when he snakes his arm around you and pulls you down on his thigh fully, scooting you up higher.

"Act like you know me, will you?" He teases, before his hand comes to sweep the hair out of your eyes. "Ready? Need lip gloss?" You grimace, crossing your arms as he tucks a stray curl behind your ear. "Did you just call me crusty?" 

"No, but I did find your lipgloss in my car. It's in my pocket, the MyMelody one?" He shrugs, pushing your hair back over your shoulder and looking into the camera. You hesitate, before holding your hand out. "Give it here." "Is that how you ask?" "Can I please have my lipgloss that I bought with my six dollars at Daiso? Pretty please, Kim Mingyu, football superstar and future architect of my home because I'm your best friend and you love me?" Your monotone voice makes him bite back his laughter, his hand sliding into his jean pocket with ease before pulling out your lip gloss. You eagerly snatch it out of his hand, screwing the top open and pressing the applicator to your lips in the camera.

If you looked just an inch to the left, you would've seen Mingyu admiring you.

"Ready now, Miss Diva?" He squeezes your hip lightly, and you smack your lips together before shoving the lipgloss in his jacket pocket and nodding.

"Yep! What pose? Smile first?" You press the camera button quickly, and he nods. You lean back a bit, your head pressed to his slightly as you both smile. The camera counts down from eight, and takes the picture as you feel your cheeks start to hurt. "Remember that photo your mom has of us? Where you're winking and I'm holding up a peace sign over your eye?" He reminisces fondly as the camera begins counting down, and you snort before nodding, humming an alright.

The two of you pose for the camera again, your chest warming at his kissy-face on the screen. The camera flashes, and you look back at him, only to see him already holding up half a heart sign with his hand. You meet it, smiling in the camera again – only to see him smiling up at you.

"Mingyu, look at the camera." You say through gritted teeth, and he does so almost reluctantly, resting his temple on your shoulder as he smiles softly. The camera flashes for the last time, and you hear the strips print on the outside. You uncross your legs, pulling the curtain open to see Minghao sweeping in front of the cashier's booth as Soonyoung crunches numbers over the calculator, a pencil in his hand quickly scribbling on his yellow legal pad. You duck out, grabbing the strips as Mingyu follows suit. You hold one up to him as you analyze yours, your heart slightly sinking at how much of a couple you guys look like. Tonguing your cheek, you run your thumb over Mingyu's face, before glancing up and seeing him looking down at you.

"Don't like them, huh?" He says defeatedly, and you shake your head quickly. "No, no! I love them." You say softly, before shrugging your shoulders a bit. "I guess it's just odd that we look so much like a couple. No wonder people think we're dating." He nods inwardly, tucking his strip into his back pocket before stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket. "Is that bad? To look like a couple, I mean?" "Considering that we've been best friends since I shoved you on the playground twenty something years ago? I'd say so." You state, and he snorts. You miss the way he tongues his cheek as he leads you over to Soonyoung and Minghao, who both smile slightly at you. "So? How was it, to have the entire arcade to yourself?" Minghao leans against the cashier's booth, his eyes slightly red from the dab pen. You roll your eyes with a smile as Soonyoung lifts your tote bag over the counter. "Glad you guys got paid to stand here. Kind of nice and calm when someone rents out the entire place, huh?" You wiggle your brows, tugging your tote over your shoulder and slipping your photo strip into it. 

Soonyoung nods, "It's nice to watch two idiots play a bunch of games that are rigged and somehow still win. I still have no idea how you understand those coin pushers." "Elementary, my dear boy!" You smile widely, and Mingyu taps the counter with a small smile. "Thanks, guys. I owe you one." He says softly, and both of the men behind the counter return the smile. Minghao follows closely behind as you both say your goodbyes, unlocking the door to a bunch of teenagers who are impatiently waiting with skateboards in their hands.

"Sorry, guys. We're closed." Minghao says as Mingyu instinctively grabs your hand, pulling you in front of him. You both worm out of the door as one of the teenagers scoffs.

"So dude and his girlfriend here can go in but we can't? Come on, we've been waiting for two hours!" The kid sneers, the group behind him making noises of agreement as you laugh inwardly. Minghao rolls his eyes, sighing as he calls over his shoulder for Soonyoung.

"You guys have a good night, okay?" He waves you off as Soonyoung pops up behind him, the two of you walking towards Mingyu's truck in the moonlight. Your shoes crunch a few leaves as you hear the gaggle of teenagers slip into the arcade, Soonyoung flicking the sign over to say OPEN as you make it to the car. "Thanks for tonight, Gyu. Even if I was a sore loser, I missed spending time with you like this." You admit softly as you both round the passenger side of the truck, his hand reaching for the handle with a shrug. "No big deal. I love hanging out with you, it's like number two on my hierarchy of needs. Second only to the absolute need to beat you at every game ever." He jerks the door open, offering his hand for support as you climb in. He smiles at you, "Still up for dinner? I really do want to try that new place, they have a drive-thru and we can stargaze or something." "Yeah, I'm down. I'll pay my share with the two coins you didn't scam me out of earlier." You roll your eyes as he only grins wider, shutting the door and rounding the car. You open the glove compartment again, fishing out Sade's Love Deluxe cassette as he jumps into his seat. He cranks the ignition without another word, buckling his seatbelt in as you trade the cassettes out. The ride is once more filled with comfortable silence aside from Sade's comforting voice seeping through the speakers. You find yourself sitting slightly closer to Mingyu than you had on the ride to the arcade, but it seems neither of you really care as he swiftly maneuvers the streets, pulling into the drive-thru for the new burger place everyone in your town had been raving about.

"What do they have?" You ask softly, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning over Mingyu's lap. The attendant blinks at you, the warm smile on her face only deepening as Mingyu's hand hovers over your waist. "We have a really good swiss and mushroom burger if you'd like to try it? It comes with caramelized onions and the bun has garlic butter brushed on top! It can get super messy but it's borderline orgasmic." She nods her head, and you glance up at Mingyu, who is biting back his laughter at her animated persona. You roll your eyes, your hand resting on his knee as you shake your head.

"You still got those mints in the glove box?" You ask, making him snort as he looks over at the attendant. "Can we get two of those? Are your fries any good? Be honest." His hand splays across your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your skirt as you continue leaning into him. The attendant assures him that yes, our fries are great! "Care to add a milkshake? We often get couples like you guys asking for one to share, it's adorable." She beams, and you open your mouth to speak before Mingyu talks over you.

"Do you want one?" His fingers squeeze your hip, and you can't find any words so you just nod dumbly, the attendant rattling off flavors when Mingyu speaks again. "Vanilla is fine, she's one of those people that dips her fries in it." "You guys are so cute!" You can't bring yourself to say anything, and you feel your cheeks heat as Mingyu clears his throat and mumbles a thank you before fishing his wallet out to pay the girl. She bids the two of you a good night before sending you down the drive-thru, and you can't move from your spot damn near on top of Mingyu.

"I'm sorry if she made you uncomfortable by saying that." He murmurs, and you shake your head slightly, squeezing his knee. "Nah, don't worry about it. It was kinda cute, she seemed really excited about it." You force a laugh, before feeling Mingyu pat your hip. 

"It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to pretend like you're okay with it. We're friends, yeah? That's all we'll ever be." You don't know why your chest tightens at the words that fall from his lips, but you only hum in response as you slink away from him. His hand on your hip brushes across your back as you make it to the window, another attendant smiling brightly as she hands your food out. "You guys are so cute! Date night?" "Ah, we're not together." Mingyu replies quickly, and you nod as the girl gives you a glance. A hint of something, maybe pity, in her eyes. It makes your stomach turn as you take the bag of hot food from Mingyu.

"You should be." She hands Mingyu the milkshake for you, and you take it from him as you give her a sad smile in return. She bids you both a good night, and Mingyu repeats it as you steal a fry from the bag and wave. He drives back into the street as you sneak another, before he glances at you.

"Yah! If you're going to sneak fries, at least do it with your seatbelt on!" He swats at you, crumpling the bag shut as you reach for the seatbelt and tug it on. You reach for the bag again as you click it in place, offering him one as he makes a left turn. He takes it between his teeth, the music playing softly as he speaks again. "There's a cliff that oversees the city. It's lowkey haunted but I like it a lot. Wonwoo found it sophomore year when he and Hansol got too high, he called me telling me he felt like he was going to fall off the Earth." You laugh, nodding along. "I remember, because you practically banged my door down trying to get Hansol inside when you've always had a key." "I couldn't find it! And it was three in the morning after the semi-finals, I was so tired I'm not even sure how I drove around for so long looking for them." He shakes his head, taking another turn before the road becomes carved dirt and gravel. He does a u-turn, parking on the cliff so the bed of the truck is facing the overview of the city. You snag one last fry before Mingyu rolls his eyes, turning the truck off with a sigh, before glancing over at you.

"C'mon, let's go sit." The two of you climb out of his side of the car, his hands carefully grasping your hips to help you down. He grabs the milkshake for you as you plop the bag of food into the bed of the truck, before climbing into it by nestling your foot on the tire and swinging your leg over the wheel arch panel. You stretch as he does the same, when you hear the thwip of him shaking off the blanket the two of you kept back here for nights like this. You fluff one of the odd cushions thrown in from random thrift store stops, waiting as Mingyu spreads the blanket across the metal of the bed before throwing the cushion down.

"Sit." He says, popping his old cooler and fishing out a bottle of water. "In case you choke." "You wish I would, don't you? You'd get all my belongings." You roll your eyes, taking the lid off the milkshake and resting it on the wheel arch panel. The two of you dig through the bag in silence, and you unwrap the wax paper from the thickest, greasiest burger you'd ever seen. You inhale deeply, your head lightly hitting the rear window as you sink your teeth into it.

"Holy shit." You groan, your eyes fluttering shut as you chew around thick mushroom bits, the sweetness of the onions coating your tongue as you look over at Mingyu – who is just shaking his head with a grin as he unwraps his own.

"Good?" "Fucking amazing, Gyu."

He seemingly agrees, a noise similar to a moan erupting from his throat as he sinks his teeth into the burger. You smile to yourself, fishing a fry out of the bag as he crosses his ankles. Neither of you say anything as you eat, and you wind up moving the milkshake between the two of you when he gestures one of his fries towards it, the last bite of his burger stuffed into his cheek. "I have a question." He speaks and you grimace.

"Swallow that first."

He rolls his eyes, doing as you say before turning back to face you. You reach out to his face with a napkin in your hand, wiping at the corner of his lip before shoveling the last of your burger into your mouth. "Why not me?" He asks, resting his head on the rearview window, and you stop chewing almost abruptly. You cough around your food, forcing yourself to swallow and take a sip of the water bottle he gave you. "What?" "I mean, it would work, wouldn't it? We've been friends since we were kids. I've seen you in almost every stage of life. We hang out constantly, we're like chopsticks. I'm never seen without you, and vice versa. So, why not me?" He shrugs, and you gape slightly.

"Mingyu, I don't think you're thinking very straight right now. I mean, again, we've been friends our entire lives. Why would we risk ruining that?" You mumble, not looking at him as he sighs.

"Is it ruining it? Are you saying you've never thought about it? The comments don't get to you?"

You look up to see him already staring at you, a quizzical look on his features as he scans you. He seems…tired. Mingyu never looks tired.

"I…Mingyu, I don't know. I guess? I mean…it's weird, isn't it? You've literally held my hair when I've thrown up. You've seen me so drunk I've done cartwheels down the street barefoot." You run a hand through your hair, a humorless laugh slipping through his lips before he sighs.

"I've also seen you graduate high school with me. I've seen you grow up, every single birthday I've been right there. I've stuck by your side my entire life, and that's never been out of anything but love for you. Whether or not it remains platonic is up to you." He looks away, looking up at the moon before clicking his tongue. "I've been in love with you for six years now." 

You swear the entire world stops spinning at that moment. No cicadas chirping, no birds flying, hell, even you've stopped breathing. He keeps talking.

"It sounds like bullshit, especially when I've dated other girls. I guess a part of me thought that if I diverted from the feelings, if I ignored them and tried to redirect them, they'd go away. It was definitely a stupid thing to do, because I've hurt people along the way. I should've been honest from the beginning, maybe your direct rejection would've made getting over you easier and things would be different now." He shrugs, and you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. He glances at you, "You should take that." You pull it out, seeing Hansol's contact flashing across the screen. Groaning, you answer it and put it on speaker.

"What, Sol?" "Damn, my bad. I heard from a little bird that you went on a date with Mingyu."

Your eyes widen, and Mingyu runs his tongue over his teeth as he shakes his head. He scoffs, and you open your mouth to speak when your roommate pipes up again.

"Have you told him you're in love with him yet?"  His head snaps up, and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut when Hansol speaks again. "Hello? Did you tell him yet or not, Y/N?"

"You just did, Sol. Fuck, I'll see you later." You don't wait for him to respond before you hang up, carelessly tossing the phone across the bed of the truck as you rub your face with your hands. You bring your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and leaning your head back against the window. He hums. "How long?" 

You sigh, nibbling on your lip as you peer at him through your lashes. He doesn't smile, doesn't offer you any comfort in his face as you rake your eyes over his features. Strong brows, soft eyes that have never held anything but support and love for you. Pink lips that spread over that perfect set of teeth every time he saw you, pink lips that mocked you and taunted you.

"Unless it's not true." He shrugs, tossing the trash from dinner into the bag it came in. You don't say anything as he moves it from between the two of you, opting to turn to face you. He crossed his legs, resting his hands in his lap. "I think a part of me always knew." You mumble, and he nods. His eyes are patient, thumbs twiddling in his lap as you sigh. "Yeah. I always knew, I just didn't want to come to terms with it. That's why Daewon and I broke up, you know." "Fuck that guy, he sucked anyway. And he's a ball hog, he can't fucking pass to save his life." Mingyu scoffs, making you smile inwardly. "Yeah, he does suck. But he was there, and he was a good distraction. We're both guilty in that sense, you and I. Something about hurting people along the way." You pull at a loose thread in the blanket, and Mingyu hums.

"We don't have to do anything about it if you don't want to." You peer at him through your lashes, tapping your foot lightly. "You don't?" He sighs, shrugging his jacket off to stretch his arms over his head. You follow the movement, your eyes glued to the muscle of his arms being pulled taut under his t-shirt. He leans his head back on the rear window, and you will yourself to scoot closer. He glances down at you, eyes full of defeat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" "Why didn't you?" "Touché." He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a mint. He holds it out to you, and you take it gently as he takes another out for himself. He doesn't say anything as he unwraps it, but you attempt to make a joke anyway.

"Telling me my breath stinks, aren't you?" He snorts as you pop the mint into your mouth, and lean your head on his shoulder.

"So does mine, so I guess we're even. Plus, you asked if I still had mints." You chuckle as he reaches for your water bottle, taking a sip before he sighs again.

"So, what now? We just live with it?"

You put your chin on his shoulder silently, looking at him as he turns to face you. You don't miss how his eyes flicker to your lips, before he speaks again. "What if it doesn't work? What if–" "I don't plan for the negative parts of life." You interrupt, switching the mint from side to side. "And I don't know why you're even allowing it to seep in, that's not like you." He scoffs as his cheeks turn pink, your hand reaching for his jacket. You pull it off his lap, wrapping it around your shoulders as you swing your leg over his thighs. His hands dart to your waist to steady you, and you sit comfortably on his lap. Resting your head on his chest, you hum.

"Why tonight?" His hands wrap around you, pulling you slightly higher on his lap as he sighs. You look up at him, the blush on his cheeks only deepening as he looks away. "You have to promise me you won't laugh."

You snort, making him huff as you let the jacket slide down your shoulders, bunching around your hips. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you coo at the pout on his lips before nodding. "I promise."

"I was jealous." He mutters, and your fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I was jealous and it was impulsive but I don't regret it. I would blow any amount of money if it meant I get to spend time with you like this. I'd sell my soul if I had to." "Jealous? Of what?" He huffs, not meeting your eyes until you slide your hand onto his jaw, your thumb stroking his cheek gently. "C'mon, Kim. Tell me." "Don't call me that." He grumbles, and you can't bite back your smile as his eyes continue to avoid yours.

"What do I call you? Mingyu? Gyu? Baby?" You're taunting him, your hands holding his face in place as you brush your nose to his. "Mine?" His eyes flicker up to yours, the pout deeper still. "Yeah. That one." "Mine?" "Yours." "Maybe. Spill your beans, first." You pinch his cheek, making him roll his eyes.

"You said you were going to write the Spotlight of the Season for Chan." He murmurs into his chest, and you bite back the beginning of a laugh that starts to bubble up when he pouts. "I want you to spend time with me. You have to interview for hours for those pieces and that means he can make you laugh and smile and have your attention. I don't like it." The laughter you once felt in your belly dissipates, Mingyu's arms tight around your waist as you cup his face in your hands. He looks up at you, eyes wide and slightly watery as you swipe your thumbs under them.

"Mingyu, I spend all of my free time with you." "It's not enough. I need to live in your skin." "That's terrifying?" You snorted, letting out a short laugh as Mingyu buried his face in your neck.

"You said you wouldn't laugh." He whines, his lips brushing against your skin. You try not to jolt in his lap, his arms only tightening around your waist. "Stop laughing!" "I'm not, I'm not laughing! I promise." You pat his shoulder, before pulling his head back by his hair. "That's actually really cute. A little scary, the bit about living in my skin, but I understand."

His eyes scan your face, trying to find a hit of deceit. You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. "Breath check." "Y/N–" "Nope, we've been doing this since we were teenagers. Does my breath stink?" He rolls his eyes, "No, Y/N. It doesn't."

You nod, before brushing your lips against his. His eyes widen, and he's pulling your hips flush to his as you smile. "No, no, no. Please kiss me, please." "So cute." You mumble, pressing your lips to his. He whimpers softly, the grip on your hips bruising as he kisses you back, his lips perfect and soft and addicting against yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you nip at his lower lip, a low groan from his chest as you slip your tongue into his mouth. You melded together perfectly, his every breath matched yours, the taste of the mint coating your tongue mixed with something just so Mingyu.

His warmth, his attention to detail. The way he teases you so lovingly, the way his hands make you feel like you're on fire even with the most innocent of touches. His soft sounds pouring into your mouth like honey, the way you can feel how hard he's trying to hold himself back from melting into you until he's had his fill.

And you hope he never does get his fill.

"Wait, wait."

Mingyu fights himself to pull away from your lips, and you can feel his heart thundering in his chest as he pushes you away. He looks a bit dazed, his thumb reaching to wipe the corner of your mouth from leftover lipgloss. You feel a bit of worry settle in your stomach, your hands moving to rest on his stomach as you nibble on your lip.

"Sorry, was that too much? I'm–" "No, no. You're…you're perfect. I'm just…" He trips over his words, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against your chest. "I don't want to ruin this before it's even started." You actually laugh this time, running your fingers through his hair and pulling him away from you. "Bro, you could never ruin this. I'll always want you, Gyu." "First of all, don't call me bro ever again. I will cry." He furrows his brows, pushing your shoulder lightly. You stick your tongue out at him, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He pouts, bringing your face closer to his before kissing your lips gently, feeling you smile into it as you nip at his lip.

"Second of all?" You murmur, and he blinks, pushing you back slightly.

Mingyu huffs, his fingers dancing across your bare thighs before he yanks your skirt down slightly. "It's late. Hansol is probably wondering where you are." "He's not my father, you know." "He's your roommate, it's courtesy."

"So…you're not going to take me back to your apartment tonight?" Your voice is soft, and Mingyu's eyes widen as you tug at the collar of his shirt. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out as your fingers move to tug the hem of his shirt out from under his jeans. His cheeks flush in the moonlight as he allows you to untuck his shirt, your fingers slipping under the soft fabric and tugging at his belt. 

"Y/N." "Just wanna see. Wanna feel you."

He rolls his eyes, his cheeks beet red as he lets you slip your hands up his shirt. You don't miss the way he shudders lightly as your fingers ghost over his skin. Pushing the fabric up, your eyes take in the expanse of his softly chiseled stomach, the dip between his pecs. You lean forward slightly, pressing your lips to the warm skin above his heart, earning a soft groan from Mingyu's throat.

"You're quite the temptress, you know." He murmurs, his hand moving to swipe your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch as he holds your face softly, his thumb toying with your bottom lip. You kiss it chastely, before he leans forward, capturing your lips with his.

His arm wraps around your waist as his hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place as he kisses you how he likes – slow, passionate, sloppy as he pushes your chest against his. Your arms wrap around his shoulders again, absently rolling your hips against his. Mingyu whines right into your mouth, only fueling the fire in the pit of your belly. 

"Y/N." He sighs against your lips, but it comes out more breathy than it usually would. You don't respond, kissing him as his fingers push the hem of your skirt up further and further up your thighs. You can feel your underwear start sticking to you uncomfortably as his hands circle your thighs, pushing you harder against his growing bulge before he suddenly pulls back from your lips. "We're in public. We could get caught." "Star football player caught fornicating with his girlfriend on Lovers' Peak. More at eleven." Mingyu scoffs, pinching your thigh playfully. "Girlfriend, huh?" "I don't kiss my friends, Mingyu." You say pointedly, before gesturing at his hands high on your thighs. "I also don't let my friends take my clothes off." He sighs, "You could at least let me ask you. You're half naked on my lap and we're not even in the privacy of my bedroom." "Then take me home, Mingyu." You roll your eyes, tugging on his shirt. "Take me home and we can figure this all out there." He eyes you, making your own give him an expectant look. 

"Will you spend the night?" "Yes." "Will I have to kick Wonwoo out?" "Yes."

You huff, tapping the watch on your wrist. You move to get up, but his hands on your thighs move to hold your hips, pulling you closer to him. Your hands grab his shoulders for balance, and he looks up at you with a shy smile on his lips. "Will you be my girlfriend? Please?" You grin, "Star Football player becomes an Omega on Lo-" "Nevermind." "No! Wait, please. I'll be your girlfriend, I will."

You kiss Mingyu before he can refute it, feeling his pout against your lips.

"Kiss me back, you twerp." "You called me an omega." "Would it be better if I said you're my omega?" You wiggle your eyebrows, and he scoffs, lightly smacking the outside of your thigh. From the blush on his cheeks, you can tell all is forgiven – but it doesn't stop you from kissing his cheek softly. "Take me home, baby."

"Y/N, I SAID I WAS SORRY. CAN'T YOU TELL HOW SORRY I AM?"

"You outed me to the love of my life." You mutter as you stuff your laptop back into your tote.

The weekend had passed, and you and Mingyu didn't have to worry about kicking Wonwoo out of the apartment – he'd actually gone on a date that night and spent the weekend at her apartment. Hansol obviously didn't question when you got home the next afternoon, but had been surprised at the deep frown on your face and how you avoided him through Monday afternoon.

"You're telling me Mingyu didn't feel the same?" Hansol's jaw dropped as you tongued your cheek, even bringing forth some tears. "No, Hansol." You grumbled, shoving your Spotlight of the Season paperwork into his hands. Hansol has a guilty look in his eyes as he groans.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Hansol is pouting as you finish packing up your bag, trying your hardest to bite back your laughter. You glance over your shoulder to see him unwrapping a lollipop and shoving it in his mouth before opening his laptop. Smirking to yourself, you make your best attempt as a discontented sigh, shoving your bag over your shoulder.

“You’ll get my rec letter in, right?” “Yes.” “And you’ll proofread my column by tonight?”

“That means taking this home, you know how I feel about that.” He mutters, tapping his fingers on the blank cover page of your paperwork. You give him a pointed look as you cross your arms over your chest.

“You take it home and do it, or I’m telling the landlord that it’s not actually our neighbor smoking all that weed.” You scoff, and he sighs.

“Bunny, I said I was sorry! How was I supposed to know he’d react that way? I mean, the guy is practically all over you anyway!” Hansol huffs, and you’re opening your mouth to speak when you hear someone clear their throat in the doorway of the office.

Hansol winces, and you glance over your shoulder to see Mingyu leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing a tight, white shirt and your favorite black jeans on him, with a watch you gave him a few years ago as a high school graduation gift. His letterman is flung over his shoulder and he’s spinning a football in his other hand.

He raises his brow at the silent scene, watching as you skirt around the desk and yank open the drawer, stealing two lollipops. Hansol doesn’t even argue, just sighs as he cowers behind his laptop.

“Should I be concerned?” Mingyu asks you as you near him, and you shake your head as you hold a lollipop out to him. Hansol is peering over the top of his laptop as a confused Mingyu presses a kiss to your hairline — but it’s not enough to make him suspicious about the weekend itinerary.

“I want my column reviewed by the time I get home, Hansol.” “Y/N, this is agony. At this rate, you’ll be home before I am!” “Now you know how I felt! Get to it!”

Mingyu snorts, shaking his head as you skirt out of the office. He bids a gentle goodbye to the younger man, who only sighs in response.

“You’re awful to that kid, you know.”

You smile as you wrap your hand around his bicep, unwrapping your lollipop as you shrug. “He taunted me with my recommendation letter! He said if I didn't confess to you in seventy-two hours, he wasn’t going to send my letter and I’d miss my opportunity at a great internship, Gyu.”

“So you should be thanking him, because technically you haven’t confessed shit.”

“I’m your girlfriend, I think that's enough of a confession.”

“Mmh.” He nods, biting back his smile as he slides his hand into yours, squeezing softly. “What do you wanna do? Practice was canceled, I have no upcoming projects. Wonwoo’s asleep on the couch at home, though, so my place is off the table.”

You glance up at him, huffing out a laugh as you shake your head. 

“What makes you think I’m free?”

“It’s a Monday afternoon. You usually con me into buying you dinner, we eat in your bedroom. We watch movies before you kick me out because you say I snore.”

“Actually it’s because you sleep shirtless, and I was a wimp back then.”

Mingyu laughs heartily, letting go of your hand to ruffle your hair. You swat at his hand, scoffing as he wraps it around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. You rest your head on the side of his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as you look up at him.

“My place is free.”

“Mmh, maybe you can read me the Spotlight of The Season column you wrote about that guy.”

“Oh, that guy? You mean Kim Mingyu? God, that guy is so cool. Did you know he has omega eyes?” You feign excitement as you taunt him, making him roll his eyes and pinch your cheek.

“Tell me you didn’t put that in the column.”

“Are you crazy? Why would I expose my hot, sexy, cool boyfriend for being a down-bad simp? That’s just not fair to me, they already want you.”

“Yeah, well.” He sighs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as the parking lot comes into view, his old truck shining in the setting sun. “I only want you.”

You don’t respond, feeling your cheeks warm as you make your way to the parking lot. He opens your door as he usually does, but lingers as you climb up and put on your seatbelt. He gingerly takes the lollipop from your lips, making you roll your eyes as he silently asks for a kiss. You give in, you’re sure you always will give in to those puppy eyes and pouty lips — when he pulls away and steals your lollipop.

“Easy.” He smiles as he shuts your door, leaving you to sulk into your seat as he rounds the car. He hops into the driver’s seat, your green apple lollipop lodged between his lips as he cranks the ignition.

“Read the column, I want to know what you chose to put in.” He speaks again as he pulls out of his spot, and you snicker to yourself as you pull your phone out.

“You sure?”

“Positive.” 

You begin to read it calmly, ignoring the incessant buzzing of Hansol’s flooding messages.

NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽 [4:32PM] dude [4:32PM] ur such a liar [4:33PM] i would say i hate u but im happy for u bro [4:34PM] i’m omw home tho 

Msg To: Sol ☀️👽 [4:35PM] find somewhere else to go 🫶🏼

NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽 [4:36PM] bro

SPOTLIGHT OF THE SEASON — NO. 97, KIM MINGYU. BY Y/N Y/L/N.  FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10. 8-MINUTE READ | UPDATED: 5:39PM.

Author’s Note: Typically, I reserve the interview questions and responses for myself. However, I’ve decided to share this snippet in order to settle some rumors and ruffle a few feathers. I have also made this column a bit more personal, with the permission of my editor.

No. 97 on the field but No.1 in my heart — I love you, Kim Mingyu.

——————————————————————————————————

— INTERVIEW #53 —

Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.53 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two. KMG: Letting you know right now, I have to pee.

— INTERIM BREAK — 

— INTERVIEW #54 —

Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.54 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two. KMG: [laughter] Y: Hello, Kim Mingyu. Welcome back to the Hawk Review Committee. KMG: Has the interview part always been this awkward? Y: Suddenly I’m your girlfriend and you forget how to talk to me? KMG: Babe, don’t put that in. We have to hard-launch before it gets published on Friday. Y: Honey. I love you. KMG: Okay, just a little snippet. Y: [laughter] Okay. Can I at least make those cheesy puns football girlfriends make? KMG: [laughter] Your world, baby. I’m just living in it. I love you.

KIM MINGYU has long been the subject of my articles. Long-winded columns full of my affections, hidden behind words far too long to be understood by the average mind. A lot of readers would call it hyperbole, would call it ‘purple prose’, but I consider my pieces about Mingyu to be the most authentic works I’ve ever written. There is something about enjoying the information I am spreading — to talk about somebody I care about, to air his successes and see other people enjoy who he is. To walk around campus and understand that though Mingyu may be my best friend, he is also a friend to others. He is a helping hand, he is smart and thoughtful. 

In his college career, Kim Mingyu has made incredible Hawk history. He is the only quarterback to not be injured during a single game, and he and the Seoul Hawks are taking home the championship trophy come Saturday night. Be sure to buy your tickets from Jimin and Jungkook!

Kim Mingyu has been an inspiration to many, including myself. Take Apartment of A Lonely Soul: being displayed at the Museum of Arts, his piece has contributed to ending the stigma of allowing self-doubt to wallow in the mind and finding comfort in being alone and making decisions that may not seem feasible. I remember when I nervously asked him if he had submitted it to be displayed in the gallery — without a second thought, he replied: Why wouldn't I? 

Kim Mingyu's unshakeable confidence has always brought comfort to others. He has time and time again shown that he is reliable, a pillar in our community. He has shown up for me countless of times — whether it is to soothe my damaged ego or celebrate my milestones, he is always there for those he cares about. 

His mistakes are also something he takes in stride. He can admit when he is wrong and when he needs help — he’s come to my apartment for study nights that have left his head spinning. He called me when his car battery died on him last spring, and I walked six miles with our friends and jumper cables to wave down some random on the road. I remember how he made our friends sit in the bed of the truck, but sat me right next to him in the cab.

In tune with confidence, he wears his intelligence and care with pride. A true team player, a student that sets the standard and wonderful friend: there will never be another Kim Mingyu.

haologram © 2025 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[flwrstqr]

HONEY, HONEY ⠀ ⟡​⠀ WHEN THEY WANT YOUR ATTENTION ───𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

𝓲⠀⠀ ⦂ enhypen & fem!rea 𝑖𝑛 8OO fluff one shot head canon 警告 cursing, skinship, petnames, jealousy & click . . ( 𝓲ssue )

다니 ⠀⦂ ⠀this is dedicated to juni & annachu (> <) i know i alternated the title a bit & the prompt... but hope you guys enjoy xoxo. also thank you jenn for help on certain members 💌

LEE HEESEUNG

"baby, don’t you think you’ve talked about that guy enough?” heeseung pouts, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face into your neck. “i mean, sure, he helped you with your project, but did he hold your hand while you stressed over it? did he kiss your forehead and tell you you’re the smartest, prettiest person ever? no? exactly.” he leans back, eyes narrowing playfully. “i bet he doesn’t even make you laugh like i do. does he send you good morning texts? compliment your hair? tell you how much he adores you?" he intertwines your fingers, bringing them to his lips with a pout. "face it, angel, no one loves you like i do," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your jaw. "so how about we focus on me now, hmm?"

PARK JAY

jay doesn’t say it—he never does—but you know. you feel it in the way his arm drapes over your shoulders, effortlessly pulling you against his warmth as he scrolls through his phone with his free hand. in the way he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering for just a second too long. in the way he exhales softly, setting his phone down as if nothing else in the world matters except you. "let’s go out," he murmurs, voice low, but there’s no second-thinking. an expensive dinner, a shopping trip where he never lets you check the price tags, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you through every store. you don’t have to ask, don’t have to wonder—because when jay wants your attention, he gives you all of his first.

SIM JAKE

“baby, look at me,” jake whines, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “why aren’t you paying attention to me? i’m right here.” his lips graze your skin, warm and teasing, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. “you love me, don’t you? then love me properly,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek, hands roaming your back in slow, lazy circles. when you hum in response, still distracted, he groans dramatically, placing his head onto your lap. “you’re so mean to me,” he sulks, his voice muffled. “just wanna be spoiled by my baby. is that too much to ask?” he lifts his head, eyes big and pleading. “one kiss, and i’ll forgive you.”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon is shamelessly competitive when it comes to you, and it’s honestly hilarious. the moment another guy dares to make you smile, he’s swooping in. “your hair looks really nice today,” some guy says, and before you can even respond, sunghoon’s already cutting in, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “nice? angel, you look like you just stepped out of a dream. actually, scratch that—you are the dream.” his voice is smooth, like he’s making sure you don’t even think about entertaining someone else’s compliment. when the other guy laughs, trying again with, “you have a really pretty smile,” sunghoon scoffs, tilting your chin up. “of course she does. it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen, and, by the way, i’m the reason she's smiling.” he smirks, eyes flickering to you, desperate for confirmation. “right, baby?”

KIM SUNOO

sunoo is so dramatic when he wants your attention, and he makes sure you know it. he starts with a loud, exaggerated sigh, arms crossed as he leans against you. when you don’t react fast enough, another sigh—longer, heavier. finally, you glance at him, and there he is, bottom lip jutted out in the deepest pout, eyes wide and pleading. “baby…” he whines, nudging his head against your shoulder. “you’ve been ignoring me for so long.” (it’s been five minutes.) when you try to hold back a laugh, he only pouts harder, leaning in until his face is this close to yours. “don’t you feel bad? look at me,” he insists, tilting his head. “my lips are a bit lonely today.” and oh, he’s expecting it now, tilting his chin up ever so slightly, waiting for you to finally give in and kiss the pout away.

YANG JUNGWON

you barely register the way jungwon tugs at your wrist until you suddenly find yourself pulled onto his lap, his arms circling around your waist with ease. “baby—what are you doing?” you laugh, but he only hums, resting his chin on your shoulder like this is the most natural thing in the world. “you weren’t paying attention to me,” he mumbles, voice laced with the smallest pout.you huff, pretending to be annoyed, but the way your heart races betrays you. “you could’ve just asked, you know,” you murmur, but he shakes his head, squeezing you a little tighter. “this is better,” he grins, tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “now you have no choice but to focus on me.” and when he nuzzles into your neck, you know he’s already won.

NISHIMURA RIKI

“baby, pay attention to me,” riki whines, snatching your phone right out of your hands with that smirk. he holds it high above his head, effortlessly out of reach, and you groan, standing on your tiptoes to grab it. “oh? trying so hard, huh?” he teases, laughing as you struggle. determined, you lunge up, but just like every cliché romcom, your foot slips, and before you know it, you're crashing right into him—chest to chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around you. “woah, princess, if you wanted to be in my arms, you could’ve just asked,” he chuckles. you glare, cheeks burning, but he only tightens his hold, grinning down at you. “you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he muses, finally handing your phone back—only to boop your nose and whisper, “but i’m still the only thing you should be looking at.”

[seventeenpins]

sniff

pairing: worst!Logan x neighbor!reader word count: 3k summary: You catch Logan with your stolen panties. content/warnings: pervy old man Logan, panty sniffing, masturbation with panties, mutual masturbation, a whole lot of fantasizing, kinda sub!Logan a/n: Still deep in the trenches here, folks. The Logan brainrot has gotten out of hand. Thank you to @ozarkthedog for making me worse ilu 😘

Logan was a bad man. He knew that. Had spent years knowing that.

Sure, he’d saved this universe, but he still had his demons.

The first time he’d crossed paths with you, you’d knocked him out. You’re a pretty little thing, all sweet and soft. There’s no way you’d ever want a man like him, all anger and failure, grey in his hair, face lined with time and exhaustion.

But you were kind, and charming. Made him smile every time you saw him in the halls or in the laundry room.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But when he sees you in your leggings and a tight little top, every curve on display, he just can’t help it. He can't tear his eyes away.

Your ass jiggles as you’re bent over the washer, tossing your dirty laundry in the machine haphazardly, and you don’t notice when you drop a lacy pair of panties.

He should tell you. He should really tell you. 

Instead, though, he moves closer to you. Makes up some lie about this machine having been on the fritz. Gives the washer a little smack, the metal of the machine twanging against the metal of his bones.

And, as you thank him and turn back, he snatches up your lacy panties and slips them into his pocket. 

“You have a good day, now, sweetheart,” he tells you, and you turn to face him, a bright smile on your face.

”You too, Logan! I’ll see you round.”

He makes a quick exit, cock already hardening, panties burning a hole in his pocket.

When he gets back to the apartment, he slams the door behind him hard enough to shake the doorframe. He slips into the bathroom, away (hopefully) from the prying ears of Wade and Al, double checking to make sure he has the lock latched securely. He thinks they’re out. He hopes they’re out. If they’re not out, they’d better not say shit if they hear him.

With a quick tug, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, letting his cock spring free from its confines. He slips the panties from his pocket and sighs. They’re barely more than a glorified shred of lace. He holds them up, examines them. Do you wear this style every day, a little thong like this, or is it only for special occasions? Maybe you were wearing them for someone else, some little boyfriend?

The thought enrages him. He knows it’s unfair, that your life is none of his business. Maybe you are dating someone. That’s fine. You’re young and pretty and deserve someone good. Someone better than a man like him.

But fuck he would take care of you right. Wouldn’t stop till you were shaking and crying, utterly fucked out and satisfied, covered in sweat, the slick of your release all over both of you.

With that thought, he brings the panties to his face.

He takes a deep sniff and groans.

He could smell them already, smell you, but it was different from a distance. With your panties in his face, he breathes deep, tries to take you in, all you, only you.

It’s dizzying, the scent of you. The smell of your pussy is intoxicating and he wants so much more. He darts his tongue out, licking at the crusty gusset. He groans as he tastes you. The panties had been worn days ago, but as he sucks at them, he makes them wet again, slippery.

He fists himself with one hand, painfully hard to the point he’s dripping, and with the other, holds your underwear up to his mouth, soaking the fabric.

Then, he wraps the wet panties around his cock and starts jerking himself off.

God, he hopes no one’s home. He tries to quiet the sounds coming out of him, but he simply can’t. The feeling of your panties choking his dick is incredible, even better than he’d hoped when he nabbed them. His breaths are coming out in pants and growls, and he feels more like an animal than he has in a long, long time.

“Fuck-” he grits, imagining all the things he’d like to do to you. He wants to taste you, straight from the source. Spread your pretty little pussy and spit, mixing saliva with your arousal. He wants to fold you over, shove your face into the pillow and ass in the air, all for him to smack and grope at. Spread your cheeks and thumb your asshole. Maybe you’ve never taken a cock in the ass before, maybe he can be your first.

His mind swims with every filthy thought he’s ever had about you. He wants, he wants, he wants—

He wants to bite down on your inner thighs, leave bruises on that soft, soft skin. Plunge three fingers into your glistening pussy and take.

Logan can still taste you on his lips. 

It’s with that thought, and one more slick tug, and he’s spilling into your panties.

There’s a lot. More than he would’ve expected. He keeps coming, the jerk of his hips punctuated with heavy breaths and growls, sweat dripping down his temples and brain blissfully blank from his exertions.

Fuck.

The post nut clarity starts to hit, slowly at first and then all at once.

FUCK.

He should not have done that. 

Stealing your panties? Really? God, he really was just a perverted old man. You could never know, he’d have to find a way to slip them back in your hamper the next time you met doing laundry.

And despite that, despite the shame and guilt and absolute self loathing, he brings the wadded ball of panties to his mouth and licks one last tentative time, tasting both of you together on the flimsy lace.

It tastes like heaven.

Gingerly, he tucks his dick back into his jeans. Glances at himself in the mirror, and fusses a little, straightening out his disheveled appearance.

After one more look over himself, ruined panties balled up in his hand, he unlocks the bathroom door and steps out. 

He exclaims when he sees you, smile on your face, reclined on the sofa next to Wade. Fuck these fucking walls had better be soundproof. FUCK.

”Peanut,” Wade sing-songs, “We have company! This little morsel from down the hall was just telling me how she’d run into you earlier today. She brought us some muffins.”

He puts undue emphasis on muffin in a way that makes Logan blush, just a little.

”Just had some bananas that were past their prime and I made too many. After I saw you earlier I thought I should drop some off as a thank you!”

“A thank you?” Logan asks, suddenly confused.

”Yeah, for helping with the washer!” You frown, surprised that he’d already forgotten.

Logan hesitates to make eye contact, instead only grunting vaguely in your direction with a curt nod.

He shuffles over to the kitchen and grabs himself a beer. Much to his chagrin, the muffins do smell good. 

He’s not sure if you notice that he’s trying to ignore you, but you still seem cheerful.

”Well,” Wade sighs, “I’d better get going. I have a hot date tonight and I will not be late. Again. By more than fifteen minutes.”

”Say hi to Vanessa from me,” you tell him, and right as he’s standing you turn to him. “Mind if I use your bathroom?” You ask, and Wade points you towards the door Logan had just exited.

”Have at it,” he says, and then in a stage whisper tells you, “But if you die, I’m not to be held responsible. Peanut was in there for a while and I can tell you from experience, a wolverine-dump is frightening to behold, even if it’s just the aftermath.”

You snort a laugh and move towards the bathroom as Wade tugs a particularly hideous hat on top of his heinous toupee. “Play nice,” he mock-glares at Logan, “We want more friends in this building who bring us delicious, delicious baked goods.”

With that, he slips out of the apartment.

It’s then that Logan realizes–the panties are no longer in his hand. He’d dropped them. He’d fucking dropped them!

It’s so fucking stupid. So unbelievably fucking stupid. He’d dropped the panties when he saw you, startled out of his train of thought.

And left them on the floor of the bathroom.

”NO!” Logan calls, and tries to get to the door before you make it there, but he’s already moments too late.

As he dashes around the kitchen island and towards the bathroom door, you’ve already shut the door behind you. At the sound of his footsteps, the door swings back open, and you’re standing there, panties in hand.

He physically recoils and then stares, deer in headlights.

You look at the bunched up ball of underwear and back up at him.

“Logan?” you venture.

He glares at the floor, refusing to make eye contact. You can see the tick of his jaw, the dart of his eyes.

“Are these mine?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Logan gives one sharp nod.

“You seem to have made a mess of them,” you muse, suddenly feeling very, very warm. You should be angry. Hell, you should be scared.

But he stands before you, still looking at the floor, looking to all the world like a bashful child who’s just been caught misbehaving.

He doesn’t respond with words, only grunts.

You take a step closer to him.

“Logan, look at me.”

He finally does. He’s not sure what he sees in your eyes, but it doesn’t look like fear or anger. Instead, it’s almost a hunger.

“First," you tell him, "You’re gonna clean up your mess,” You're suddenly more bold than you know yourself to be, aching with it. “And then you’re gonna show me, and you’re gonna do it all over again.”

“I’m sorry, what–”

You take another step towards him, close enough to touch him. As he’s about to say something else, you take the opportunity to shove the cum-drenched panties right in his open mouth, shutting him up instantly.

He stands there, unmoving, panties half-dangling out his mouth.

“Good boy.” You say, and his eyes widen, mouth agape and panties nearly slipping.

Of all the scenarios he’s played out, for months now, this was never one of them.

He’d never realized how much he can enjoy surprises. The hunger in your eyes—it’s delicious.

He regains a semblance of composure and you guide him backwards. He stumbles blindly till the backs of his knees hit the sofa. He collapses with a huff.

“Go on,” you encourage, “You like playing with my panties so much, you get to do it for me.”

He groans, puts a hand to his mouth, and sucks at the fabric. 

It’s still wet, and full – full – of his cum. 

He slurps at it, pulls them out of his mouth and stretches the panties wide. Licks all over it, tongue running along the gusset where he can still taste the two of you together.

It doesn’t matter that Wade could come back home, that Althea may already be home. It doesn’t matter that he’s mortified; at the very least, his dick doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. He’s getting hard again, refractory period already practically nonexistent. He’s at a loss for words, but that doesn’t matter, either. 

All that matters is the panties in his mouth, and your eyes on him, slight smile tugging at your lips as you watch.

”Do you make a habit of this?” You ask, and it’s more curious than condemning.

Logan shakes his head. “Uh-uh,” it comes out muffled through the mouthful.

“Don’t make a habit of stealing my panties, or don’t make a habit of stealing anyone’s panties? For all I know, you’ve got some secret collection. Got a pair of Wade’s briefs in the back of your drawer?”

The blush that blooms is pretty, flushing all down his bared throat. You desperately want to touch him, but more than that, you want to tease him. Humiliate him. Call him a dirty old man and make him sweat, and then show him that you want him anyway. That you have been wanting him.

You just didn’t think he’d fall so easily for the bait of dropped panties.

“Suck em clean,” you tell him, and he makes a half-strangled moan, slurping loudly against them.

He works at them with his mouth. It could’ve been comical but instead he simply looks feral. He makes a lewd, wet sound, and pulls the panties out of his mouth, dragging them across his teeth, saving every last bit of the mix of cum and reconstituted pussy juice that had been soaking them.

You take them from his outstretched hand and sniff them yourself. You see the way his eyes widen again, but he’s restrained. He holds himself back, stays still.

“I’ve gotta say, you do put on a good show. You can keep these,” you smile, and toss them back at him, smacking him square in the face.

“But these-” you slip your thumbs up your skirt, the one you deliberately chose to wear just for this purpose. You hook the waistband of today’s panties and slip them down, stepping out of them and handing them to Logan.

“You’re gonna show me exactly how you touched yourself with those panties you stole.”

“Hey,” he huffs, “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“I’m not,” you cut in, “If you hadn’t stolen my panties, you wouldn’t be showing me just how dirty an old man you are.” You wink, “And I like it.”

“Watch who you’re callin’ old, sweetheart.”

“Logan, baby,” you croon, “You ain’t the one calling the shots here.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you take another step towards him and grab him by the belt buckle. He buffers, opening and closing his mouth several times, never taking his eyes from your face.

He watches, awed, as you undo the buckle, pop the button, pull down his zipper.

You grin when you see he isn’t wearing any underwear himself and, with a swift, deft movement, you reach into his jeans and slide out his cock.

If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. He moans as your hand wraps around him, pumping gently. It’s far too little pressure. He wants more. He needs more.

As if reading his mind, you snatch your panties from his hand and wrap them around his cock.

He whines, immediately overwhelmed. He’d barely dared to notice them when you’d placed them in his hand. Now, he realizes just how absolutely soaked you are. The crotch of your panties, (another lacy pair), is slick with your arousal.

“Show me,” you tell him. “Show me-”

Reluctantly, he tightens the grip on his cock and starts jerking himself. 

Against his own will, a ragged moan slips out. It makes your body hot and your pussy even wetter. You sit back on the sofa and spread your legs, letting your hand rest on your needy pussy.

Logan notices and, encouraged, wraps his fist tighter around his cock and strokes himself faster, his hips moving rhythmically.

You start to touch yourself in earnest, dipping two fingertips into your slick heat and swirling the arousal around your clit.

Little moans start to escape you, egged on but his ragged breathing. He starts muttering, worn and desperate; “Fuck, fuck, wanna taste that pussy. Eat you right. Smells so good, tastes so good, wanna make you cum on my tongue, hold you down, fuck you through it–”

The touch of your fingertips is exquisite. You’ve masturbated to the thought of him a lot. More than you’d prefer to admit. But seeing him like this, undone and aching, it hits you all the more. 

You sink into the fantasy. “Want you, Logan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Gettin’ close now,” he warns. He should be embarrassed at the speed he's reaching his peak, but he's so drunk on sensation he simply cannot find it in himself to care.

You nod, and adjust the pressure on your clit.

“Wait for me,” you tell him. He groans, but nods. “Nearly there,” you assure.

You press tight circles around your clit working yourself up, closer and closer and closer to that high–

“Fuck,” you shout, suddenly overwhelmed by it, “Fuck, I’m— I’m coming. Show me, Lo, show me–”

You tip over the edge, cunt pulsing hungrily. You wish you’d had something inside you. Wish you’d had him inside you.

He lets out a ragged groan, followed by curses, and the most explosive ejaculation you’ve ever seen. The head of his cock is buried in your panties and he fills them, but his cum shoots out of the holes of the lace, spraying his spend across the floor and towards you. A single drop hits your cheek, and you nearly laugh, but the sound he makes–something primal and animalistic–sends another pulse through you and suddenly you’re coming again, untouched.

It takes a while to come down.

He’s panting, sweat dripping down his temples. Reality absolutely living up to the fantasy.

When you both catch your breath, you smile, sated and tired. You reach out a hand and, hesitantly, he hands you the ruined panties.

Mouth agape, he watches as you run a finger through the cum and dip it in your mouth, humming a pleased affirmation. Then, you step into the cum-drenched underwear and put them on.

He stares at you dumbfounded, burning with so many thoughts that he can’t pinpoint a single one.

“Next time,” you smile, standing up and pressing an unexpected kiss to his cheek. “You can just ask.”

You wink, half dazed yourself, barely able to believe everything had turned out exactly as you’d orchestrated it.

“I’m in Apartment 8,” you tell him, and then you’ve turned on your heel and stepped out the door.

Logan stands there, bewildered. He fingers the damp panties he still has in his pocket, and listens as your footsteps echo through the hallway.

[cherryxbooo]

Yeah, I’m the lucky one

Summary: Hiding it when you're sick from your boyfriend is one thing, but hiding it from your clingy boyfriend is a whole other challenge.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff

The paddock is alive with energy, buzzing with anticipation, the sound of engines roaring in the distance, and the hum of the crowd outside.

Lando is in his element, calm yet radiating an excitement that’s palpable.

The focus in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and it’s clear that today matters more to him than most.

The weight of the race, the pressure of the expectations, and the fire in his heart are all simmering beneath the surface.

It's a mix of raw determination and adrenaline, and it brings out the best in him.

But me? Well, I feel the complete opposite.

I woke up feeling off, my head pounding and my body aching with a fever I couldn't shake.

I knew I should stay in bed, but I couldn’t. Not today.

Not with everything he’s worked for. I couldn’t let something as trivial as being sick get in the way of him having the best race of his career.

He’s been talking about this day for weeks, getting ready for it with an intensity that I’ve only seen in the world of motorsport.

But as I made my way through the paddock, trying my best to act normal, I felt the weight of my own discomfort pulling me down.

I’ve been silently counting the minutes until I can just crawl into a quiet corner and hide.

But the last thing I want is for him to see me like this. He’d immediately worry, go into panic mode, and lose focus.

Lando, with his big heart, would put everything aside just to take care of me, and I don’t want to do that to him.

Not today. Today is about him.

As I stand next to his family, making small talk with his friends, I feel dizzy.

The lights are a little too bright, and the sounds a little too loud.

I try to steady myself, offering a weak smile whenever someone glances my way, but the effort feels exhausting.

Lando’s mum catches my eye, and for a brief moment, I see a flicker of concern in her expression.

But she doesn’t say anything, just gives me a warm, reassuring smile. I’m grateful, but I can tell she knows something’s off.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel a familiar hand on my back. A small shiver runs down my spine as I turn to face Lando, and I instantly feel a warmth spread through me, despite the fever still creeping in.

“Hey baby, you okay?” His voice is soft, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, like he’s always aware of everything around him, especially me.

I don’t want to worry him. I can’t.

So I give him a smile that’s more practiced than I’d like to admit,

“Yeah, just a little tired. Big day, huh?”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

He studies me for a second, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, his hand gently squeezing my back.

The touch is warm, comforting. “You sure? You don’t look so great.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You focus on the race. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

Lando hesitates, his lips pressed into a thin line as if trying to gauge if I’m really okay.

But then he nods slowly, though his concern doesn’t quite vanish.

“Alright… but if you need anything, you let me know, okay?”

His voice is almost a whisper, like he’s trying not to give away just how much he cares.

“I will,” I promise, trying to keep my tone light and convincing.

But as he walks away to prepare for the race, a sense of loneliness settles over me.

The noise around me feels overwhelming, and the crowd only amplifies the ache in my head.

I find a quiet corner, away from the chaos, hoping to just breathe for a moment.

I didn't realize that I had been hiding away for a while already.

But before I know it, Lando’s voice cuts through the distance.

“You’ve been hiding from me.”

I turn to see him standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

His presence alone seems to calm the storm inside me.

“I wasn’t hiding,” I protest weakly, though my voice cracks just slightly.

“Just… taking a break.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“Taking a break from what? From me?”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin.

I close my eyes for a second, leaning into the touch, even though I feel like I might collapse at any moment.

“From the chaos of the paddock,” I admitted softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softens, the teasing in his eyes fading. He steps in closer, his body brushing against mine as he gently cups my face with both hands, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Hey…” His voice is tender now, a deep, comforting lull.

“Are you really feeling okay love?"

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat suddenly unbearable.

“Yes, don't worry Lan. I'm fine.”

I whisper, my voice slightly breaking as I fight the urge to lean on him completely.

I stare up at him, feeling a mix of love and pain.

I don’t want to be the one who holds him back, but I can’t deny how much I crave the support and warmth he gives me without even thinking.

Lando lowers his hands, but not without giving me one last comforting touch, his fingers brushing my wrist.

“You need to rest,” he says firmly, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind his words now.

“I’m not going to let you make it through today without me taking care of you at least once.”

I laugh softly, despite the dizziness still swirling in my head.

“I’m fine, Lando. You go be amazing out there.”

He looks at me, his eyes soft but filled with determination. “I will be. But only because you’re here.”

Before I can say anything else, he leans in, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll make sure to get at least P3 for you.”

And with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of engineers and teammates.

But the moment he’s out of sight, I feel my energy drain completely.

Regardless of how I felt I still made my way to the rest so I could support Lando and be there for him.

Everywhere I look, there’s movement, excitement, and a sense of urgency.

Lando’s already suited up and surrounded by his team, getting ready to focus on the race that could mean everything for his career.

I’m supposed to be the one cheering him on, being his support, his calm, but instead, all I can do is try to survive the overwhelming wave of heat coursing through me.

Every few seconds, my head spins, my chest feels like it's on fire, and the nausea rolls in like a tide.

It’s getting harder to keep it together, but I’m trying. I can’t let anything distract him.

I can't make this his problem today, not when he’s been working so hard for this moment.

I take a seat next to Max and Pietra, hoping the three of us can keep the mood light and give Lando a little peace before he heads into the race.

I force myself to laugh at Max's joke about the weather, but it comes out more like a wheeze.

My throat feels like it’s coated in something dry and scratchy, and each breath feels like I’m not getting enough air.

Max doesn’t notice, but Pietra does.

She’s always been that way, observant, kind, and so very perceptive.

I’ve always admired how in tune she is with people.

She shifts in her seat beside me, her eyes narrowing as she studies my face.

“You okay, Y/n?” she asks gently, her voice laced with concern.

“You look a little pale.”

I immediately try to put on a smile, but it feels like the most exhausting thing I’ve done all day.

“I’m fine, really,” I say, hoping I can convince her.

“Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Pietra doesn’t buy it, not even for a second.

She leans in closer, her gaze steady as she inspects my face, my trembling hands.

“You sure?” she presses, her brow furrowing.

“You don’t look fine. Maybe you should lay down for a bit?”

The room suddenly feels like it’s closing in on me.

The dizziness that had been simmering beneath the surface is starting to take hold, and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes focused on her.

I swallow hard, trying to push the wave of nausea down, but it’s impossible to ignore now.

I nod weakly, doing my best to stay composed.

“I’m okay, Pietra. Just... a little dizzy. I think I’ll sit down for a moment.”

Max, still glued to his phone, glances up briefly, probably sensing the shift in the air.

His eyes scan me quickly before he leans closer to Pietra, muttering something under his breath, probably about how pale I look.

I’m about to wave it off, to reassure them both that it’s nothing, when Pietra’s soft hand touches my shoulder.

It’s warm and grounding, her touch gentle but insistent.

“No, you’re not okay, Y/n,” she says firmly.

“You’re not fooling me. You need to go back to the hotel and rest. Max and I will handle everything here. Don’t worry about Lando. He’ll understand. He doesn’t need to know right now, and you’re not helping him by pretending you’re fine.”

My heart clenches at her words. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to make him worry.

He’s about to race, about to compete for something so important to him.

The last thing I want is to make this about me. But Pietra’s expression leaves no room for argument.

Her hand squeezes my shoulder, and I feel a wave of guilt hit me hard.

“I... I can’t just leave,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

“I don’t want him to—”

“Y/n,” Pietra interrupts, her voice soft but full of authority.

“Lando will be fine. He’ll be more upset if you stay here, pretending to be okay when you’re not. Let us take care of everything. He doesn’t need the distraction. He needs you to get better, not to keep pretending.”

I shake my head, still fighting it. “But he’s going to think I don’t care.”

“He knows you care. You don’t have to prove it by running yourself into the ground,” she says, her tone firm yet reassuring.

“You need to listen to your body. Max and I can make sure everything’s fine here.”

I hesitate for a moment, my vision swimming in and out of focus, and then I feel it, the dizziness getting worse.

My stomach turns violently, and I barely suppress a gasp. Before I can protest, Pietra’s up and at my side, helping me stand.

“Max,” she calls out to him, her voice tinged with urgency.

Max looks up from his phone, his attention now fully on us. He doesn’t need to ask questions.

Without a word, he stands, motions to security, and gestures for them to clear a path.

“We’re getting you back to the hotel,” Max says, his voice gentle but decisive.

“No arguments.”

I open my mouth to protest, to tell them I’m fine, but the dizziness overtakes me again.

I feel my legs wobble, my knees threatening to give way beneath me. The nausea is so strong now that I can’t hold it back any longer.

My head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and my heart races as I fight to keep everything together.

“Okay,” I whisper, too weak to resist any longer. “Okay, let’s go.”

Max’s arm wraps around my shoulder, steadying me as Pietra follows closely behind.

I glance over my shoulder at the paddock, seeing the hustle and bustle of the team preparing for the race.

And even though I want nothing more than to stay and support Lando, I know Pietra’s right, he doesn’t need to see me like this.

As we make our way out of the paddock, past the busy crew and excited fans, the world seems to blur again.

All I can think about is Lando, how much he’s worked for this, and how much I wish I could be there cheering him on.

But right now, all I can do is focus on getting back to the hotel and trying to heal.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Pietra murmurs, sensing my anxiety.

“Lando will understand. We’ll make sure he stays focused.”

“Thank you,” I whisper back, squeezing her hand.

Max looks over at me, offering a reassuring smile.

“No problem, Y/n. We’ve got you.”

And as they guide me toward the exit, the sound of the engines roaring to life in the distance feels far away, almost like a distant memory.

All I can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that, by the time Lando crosses the finish line, I’ll be okay.

Meanwhile,

The race was intense, there was no other way to describe it.

Lando’s heart was pounding, his breath coming in quick bursts as he fought to stay focused on the track ahead.

Each corner, each straightaway felt like it mattered more than the last.

The roar of the engine under him, the vibration in his hands as he gripped the wheel,it was like the world was screaming at him to push harder, to get everything he had into every lap.

And he did.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, the world outside of his car becoming a blur of colors and sounds.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else tugging at his mind, something he couldn’t quite shake.

Just before the race started, he had caught sight of Y/n sitting among their friends, looking beautiful as always, but something was... off.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at him, her tired eyes betraying a sense of exhaustion that didn’t quite match the energy of the day.

Or how quiet she seemed, like a flicker of something hidden behind her usual smile. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something wasn’t right.

But there was no time for that.

He pushed those thoughts away, focusing back on the race, his hands steady on the wheel as he navigated the track with everything he had.

He couldn’t afford to think about anything but the next corner, the next lap, the next move.

And when he crossed the finish line, the elation of victory should’ve been enough to make everything feel perfect.

After all, he had gotten P2.

The cheers, the confetti, the roar of the crowd, it was everything he’d been working for, everything he’d dreamed of.

But in the midst of it all, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought of Y/n.

His gaze searched the area, instinctively looking for her.

He was surrounded by teammates, sponsors, friends, but all he wanted in that moment was to see her smile, to know she was okay.

He scanned the area again, but she wasn’t there.

Not where he had left her. His stomach tightened, his mind racing. Something wasn’t right.

Lando quickly moved through the crowd, dodging everyone on his way, his eyes darting between faces, searching for any sign of her.

He was so focused on finding her, he almost didn’t see Max and Pietra standing off to the side.

When he finally noticed them, his heart skipped a beat. You weren't there.

Lando’s pace quickened as he approached them, his voice betraying the worry he couldn’t hide.

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, his words coming out sharper than he intended.

Pietra exchanged a glance with Max before she sighed, the look on her face telling Lando everything he needed to know.

"She wasn’t feeling well," she said softly, her eyes clouded with concern.

"We had to send her back to the hotel."

Lando’s chest tightened, a heavy weight settling over him.

His pulse quickened, the sudden rush of guilt and worry clouding his thoughts.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice rising slightly, not in anger, but in genuine confusion.

Max stepped forward, his expression calm but serious.

"Mate she didn’t want to distract you. She said it was important not to take your focus away from the race."

Lando’s mind was spinning now, the elation of his victory evaporating as quickly as it had come.

Guilt was flooding him, he couldn’t believe Y/n had been struggling, that she’d hidden it from him.

She’d always been there for him, supportive, understanding, even when he was caught up in his own world.

And now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let her down.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the weight of the situation was suffocating.

He didn’t know what to say.

All he could think about was how she had been sitting there, probably feeling miserable, and he hadn’t even noticed.

The race, his career, all of it felt so insignificant compared to the thought of Y/n being alone and sick.

“Why didn’t she just tell me? I would’ve understood. I could’ve—”

Pietra stepped forward, her hand gently resting on his arm, grounding him in the moment.

“Lando, she didn’t want you to worry. She knew how much today meant to you. She didn’t want to take that away from you.”

Max nodded in agreement.

“She’s always there for you. But she’s not the type to let herself be a distraction, not when you’re in the zone like that. You know how she is, she cares about you more than anything, but she didn’t want to pull you away from your focus.”

Lando let out a long breath, feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on his chest.

“I should’ve noticed,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I should’ve been paying more attention."

"You’re not a mind reader, Lando," Pietra said, her voice calm but firm.

Lando realized that she was right.

He quickly greeted the rest of his family and did some other duties before changing and heading back to the hotel.

Lando arrived at the hotel room, his body still buzzing from the race, but his mind consumed by a different kind of worry.

As soon as he entered, the first thing he did was quietly close the door behind him.

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the dim light from the lamps were the only sounds in the room.

His eyes immediately fell on your figure, still asleep, your peaceful face glowing softly under the sheets.

The sight of you, so vulnerable yet so beautiful, made his heart ache with both affection and guilt.

He quietly pulled a chair from the small desk and sat down beside the bed, never taking his eyes off you.

He wanted to be close to his girl, but he didn’t want to wake you.

He knew you needed rest, but the worry of the day, the worry about you, hadn’t let up.

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

His fingers lingered there for a second before he let out a soft breath, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow on his knee.

He could almost hear the questions running through his mind, wondering why you hadn’t told him what you had been feeling.

He could feel the weight of your absence, the quiet ache in his chest from not knowing exactly what had been going on with you.

The minutes seemed to stretch on, each tick of the clock amplifying his thoughts.

He hated this uncertainty, this feeling that something had been left unsaid.

Then, after what felt like forever, a soft groan escaped from your lips, and Lando’s attention snapped to her immediately.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light in the room.

Your gaze slowly focused on him, confusion settling on her face as she took in her surroundings.

Lando watched her with a mix of relief and concern, his heart lightening at the sight of you waking up but still heavy with the questions that lingered in his mind.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Lando said softly, his voice full of warmth and affection.

My vision cleared, and I smiled sleepily at him.

Lando’s heart squeezed.

"You’re awake. I’ve been here waiting for you to wake up for, like, ages now." He chuckled softly, though his eyes were still filled with concern.

"But seriously… why didn’t you tell me?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing on me.

My hand reached for his, finding his fingers weakly, and I squeezed them, my fingers trembling a bit.

"I didn’t want to be a burden," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn’t want to ruin your day or take away from the race. It was important to you. I just… I didn’t want to distract you."

Lando smiled at me softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.

"You’re never a burden, Y/n." He looked at me with such sincerity, it made my heart ache in the best way.

"You are always my priority, okay? Not the race, not the fans, not the win. You. Always."

I felt my heart flutter at his words, my eyes softening as I looked back at him.

The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill, and I could feel them welling up.

Being sick just makes people extra emotional, give it a break yeah?

"I’m sorry," I murmured, my voice breaking slightly.

Lando shook his head, his heart aching.

He leaned closer, cupping my cheek gently, his thumb brushing over my skin.

"You don’t have to apologize," he whispered.

"You never have to hide anything from me, especially not when it comes to you."

I felt the weight of his words, the tenderness in his touch, and I wanted so badly to just melt into him.

I was so grateful for him, for the way he always made me feel safe, loved, and heard.

Lando sat beside me on the bed, leaning back just enough to grab the water and medicine he’d set out earlier.

"You need to drink this," he said softly, his voice gentle but firm.

"Get some rest, and I’ll be right here with you. Just take it easy."

I hesitated for a moment, but then reached for the glass of water he held out to me.

My fingers were still shaking slightly, but I took it from him gratefully.

There was a small, tired smile on my lips as I drank, and Lando’s eyes never left me.

He was watching me closely, making sure I was okay. It felt nice to be looked after this way.

After I finished the water, Lando sat back down next to me again, his hand finding mine once more.

"You don’t ever have to hide something like that from me, okay?" he said, his voice soft but serious.

"If something’s wrong, you have to tell me. Promise me you’ll tell me next time."

I looked up at him, my eyes full of emotion, and I nodded slowly.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, and I felt a few of them slide down my cheeks.

Before I could say anything, Lando quickly wiped them away with his thumb, his touch light, tender.

"I’m sorry," I whispered again, my voice barely audible.

He slightly laughed, "You're such a crybaby when you're sick babe."

Lando leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice full of love and affection.

"I love you, baby. I love you, and that’s all that matters." His voice was quiet but strong, filled with reassurance.

I pulled him closer, resting my head against his chest, letting out a small, exaggerated sigh.

"Mmm, this is the best pillow ever," I mumbled, half-laughing, half-groaning in exhaustion.

Lando wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in tighter.

His chin rested on top of my head, and he chuckled softly.

"You come first," he said with a mock-serious tone, trying to sound all deep and dramatic.

"Always."

I snuggled in a little closer, feeling his warmth.

"Oh, I know now," I said, glancing up at him with a grin.

"You’re basically my personal butler, aren’t you? Always there when I need you."

He let out a dramatic gasp. "But of course! My whole existence is to serve you, my queen."

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a laugh.

"Thank you for being here," I said, the words half-sweet, half-teasing.

Lando smirked, pressing a kiss to my hair.

"Please don't cry again... and well yeah, where else would I be? I’m not going anywhere."

Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added,

"Besides, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. You know that, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh lightly, feeling him grin against the top of my head.

"Oh, I know," I said, playfully tapping his chest.

"You're my big soft marshmallow. I practically own you."

Lando chuckled, his arms tightening around me. "You absolutely do. And you’re not even sorry about it."

I smirked, rolling my eyes. "Well, I am your number one priority, aren’t I?"

His eyes sparkled with affection, and he pulled me a little closer.

"You’re my number one everything, Y/n. No competition."

I snorted, unable to help the grin that spread across my face.

"Good. Glad we’re clear on that."

As we sat there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside felt miles away.

All that mattered was us, his heartbeat, my tired sighs, and the way we fit together like we’d always been meant to.

For a moment, everything else faded, and all I could think was: Yeah, I’m the lucky one.

The end