#and had this crash into my head while listening to this song so

[saturnsag3]

Goodnight, Junie B - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: nighttime shenanigans with this sickeningly fluffy family

wc: 1,030

Macklin had parked in the usual pickup spot outside Willow Glen Elementary. His sleeves were rolled up, and the neck of his sweater had been tugged loose slightly—he always looked a little undone by the end of the day, but never in a way June minded. She came flying out of the side doors, lunchbox swinging, backpack bouncing, curls wild and her freckled cheeks flushed.

“Daddy!” she yelled, running full tilt, and Macklin braced himself, laughing as she crashed into him with the force of a very tiny linebacker.

“There’s my Junie B,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and scooping her up. “How was school?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I got a sticker from Miss Pelton for being the quietest during story time. I didn’t even talk once.”

Macklin gave her a look in the rearview mirror as he buckled her into her booster seat. “Are you feeling okay? No talking for the whole story?”

She grinned. “I was pretending to be asleep.”

He snorted. “That’s called cheating, bug.”

“Still counts!” she sang.

The drive home was filled with chatter. June told him about a new kid named Callie who had light-up sneakers and liked worms, and how Tyler from her class tried to trade a broken bouncy ball for her pudding cup. Macklin listened the way he always did—nods at stoplights, smiles in the rearview, interjecting with “No way!” and “What did you say to that?” at the perfect moments.

Back home, June threw her shoes off in the entryway like a tornado and made a beeline for the living room. Macklin tossed his keys in the bowl and followed the sound of crayons being dumped out like a waterfall. She was already on the floor, halfway through coloring a tiger purple.

“Snack time or art time first?” he asked.

“Both!”

“You drive a hard bargain, Junebug.”

So Macklin microwaved dinosaur nuggets and poured some apple slices onto a plate while June narrated the artistic journey of her tiger. He sat on the floor beside her, plate balanced on his knee, dipping nuggets in honey mustard and handing them off like offerings to a queen.

By the time Will got home, he was rumpled from work but smiling in that soft way he always did when he walked in and heard June’s voice.

“Hey, my people,” he called out, dropping his bag by the door.

June scrambled up like she’d just remembered she had another parent. “Dad!”

Will caught her in a hug, spinning her once before kissing her cheek. “How’s my girl?”

“She’s coloring a rainbow tiger,” Macklin said, coming over to greet Will with a peck on the lips. “And she may or may not have stolen an extra pudding cup from the lunch cart.”

“Nobody was around!” June protested, but she was grinning.

Will gave her a mock stern look. “So we’re starting our life of crime early.”

“Daddy said it builds character,” she said, climbing onto the couch between them with her plate in hand.

“Daddy also once got detention for trying to install a fog machine in the high school gym.”

“It was for ambience,” Macklin said, not looking remotely sorry.

After dinner, Macklin handled bath time while Will folded the laundry that had been sitting clean and abandoned for three days on the couch. June was in one of her dramatic moods tonight—she wanted bubbles, toys, songs, and stories, and halfway through Macklin’s off-key rendition of “The Ants Go Marching,” she insisted he let her wash *his* hair with her unicorn shampoo.

“I smell like cotton candy and regrets,” he said to Will afterward, toweling his head dry.

“She’s a tyrant,” Will replied, peeking into the bathroom where June was now brushing her teeth with her pink glittery brush, mostly getting toothpaste on her chin.

They all ended up in June’s room afterward. She had a mountain of stuffed animals she insisted needed formal attendance checks every night. Macklin sat on one side of her bed, Will on the other, as she named each one—Mr. Snugglewhale, Peppa the Third, Cinnamon the Very Berry Soft Bunny. Will added a fake mark next to each one on a clipboard he’d found in the junk drawer last week.

“All accounted for,” he said. “Thank goodness. We can sleep safely tonight.”

“Except for Shadow,” June whispered dramatically, pulling the blanket up to her nose. “He guards the closet.”

“Does he fight monsters or befriend them?” Macklin asked.

She considered. “Both. But only on Thursdays.”

“Lucky us,” Will said. “It’s only Wednesday.”

With the lights dimmed and her lava lamp casting pinkish blobs across the walls, June wriggled down between them and held out her arms. “Can I have the sandwich?”

They exchanged a glance and smiled.

Macklin wrapped one arm around her and Will the other, making a family hug sandwich, warm and familiar, and just a little lopsided.

“You guys smell like work,” she mumbled into Will’s chest.

“And you smell like unicorns and justice,” he replied.

“Goodnight, JJ,” Macklin whispered.

“Goodnight, Junie B,” Will echoed.

June blinked sleepily, her curls fanned out against her pillow. “Love you, Daddy. Love you, Dad.”

They stayed a few minutes after her breathing slowed and deepened, each of them silently basking in the quiet, the glow, the stillness that only seemed to exist in the minutes right before bedtime.

“Remember when we were twenty and living in that shoebox apartment over the laundromat?” Will murmured.

“With the broken radiator and the raccoon who lived on the fire escape?” Macklin smirked. “I miss Mr. Callahan.”

Will leaned over and brushed a curl off June’s forehead. “We really didn’t know anything back then, huh?”

Macklin took his hand. “We knew enough to dream about this.”

They left her room quietly, hand in hand, and closed the door behind them with a soft click.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: first fic on here! i’ve been very slowly getting into hockey but i’m obsessed w these two so I knew I had to write for them, please give ur thoughts! ik this fandom isn’t huge so anything is appreciated and I hope y’all enjoyed!

[carefulzombie]

And we've both done it all a hundred times before

It's funny how I still forgot

S6E44 the war games: part 10 // two slow dancers, mitski // the war games 2024 colorization

[theetherealbloom]

You Got Me So In Love, I've Never Been This Possessive

Summary: While on a scenic boat trip along the coasts of Malta, you bask in the crystal-clear waters, and laughter with Pedro’s cast and crew. Despite his injured arm keeping him on the boat, Pedro can’t keep his eyes off you.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Nudity, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Swimming, Bikini, Flirting, Teasing, Cast, Pedro Fell Down The Stairs, ER visit, Hurt-To-Comfort, Mild Spice, Banter, Idk Spanish so the terms might be wrong but I'm trying my best

Word Count: 5K

A/N: GOOD MORNING CHICKENS!!! Y’know how I said there would be a part two? Yup. Also, I know no one asked, but back in High School, I fell down the stairs��� A LOT. Like every year for six years. No major bones were broken, only a sprained ankle every time I fell down the stairs, so in a way I guess I was lucky. PSA to always hold the hand railing, and like Pedro said, it can happen to anyone!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Te Quiero by KISS OF LIFE

← Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist |

PASCAL RESIDENCE, CHILE — AFTERNOON  

The sun bathed the Pascal family home in a golden glow, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked empanadas and the gentle hum of conversation. You were seated on the patio, your legs tucked under you, watching as Pedro animatedly retold a story from his teenage years. His siblings—Javiera, Lux, and Nicolás—listened with rapt attention, their laughter bubbling over when Pedro’s dad chimed in with his version of events, insisting Pedro had exaggerated again.  

“Exaggerated?” Pedro placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “I would never! Everything I say is 100% true and scientifically proven.”  

“Scientifically proven to be full of nonsense,” Nicolás teased, earning a round of laughter.  

You couldn’t help but grin, soaking in the easy camaraderie of the family. Pedro’s hand found yours under the table, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that felt like second nature. He glanced at you, his dark eyes soft with a love so deep it made your chest tighten.  

“Tell them,” Pedro said, turning to you with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Tell them I’m not lying.”  

You bit back a laugh, tilting your head in mock consideration. “Well… the story did sound a bit too good to be true.”  

“Et tu, mi amor?” he groaned, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile.  

Javiera, ever the ringleader, stood and declared, “Enough storytelling! Let’s put her to the test. If she’s going to be part of this family, she needs to learn brisca.”  

Pedro leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Fair warning: They’ll gang up on you.”  

“Good thing I’ve got you on my side,” you murmured, a soft blush rising to your cheeks.  

“I’ll always be on your side,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple that sent a shiver down your spine.  

A FEW HOURS LATER…  

The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard. Pedro had wandered inside to grab more drinks for everyone while you stayed on the patio with Lux, discussing her latest project.  

The sound of a crash shattered the peaceful air. You froze, the glass in Lux’s hand slipping and shattering on the ground.  

“Pedro!” you gasped, bolting toward the house.  

Inside, you found him crumpled at the base of the stairs, his face pale and contorted in pain. Nicolás was already at his side, his hands hovering uncertainly as if afraid to make things worse.  

“Call an ambulance!” you shouted, your voice shaking as you knelt beside Pedro.  

He looked up at you, his breaths shallow and uneven. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said through gritted teeth, but his wince betrayed him.  

“You’re not okay,” you said, your hands trembling as you gently brushed the hair from his forehead. “What happened?”  

“I missed the last step,” he muttered, trying to manage a weak smile. “Guess I’m not as graceful as I thought.”  

“Pedro, this isn’t funny,” you whispered, tears pricking your eyes.  

Javiera appeared with the phone pressed to her ear, speaking rapidly to the emergency dispatcher. Lux crouched beside you, her face pale as she reached for Pedro’s uninjured hand.  

“Help’s on the way,” Javiera assured you, her voice steady despite the panic in her eyes.  

Minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You kept your focus on Pedro, your hand gripping his tightly. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here. You’re going to be fine.”  

THE ER — EVENING

The antiseptic smell of the hospital hit you as you paced the waiting room, your heart pounding in your chest. Pedro had been whisked away for X-rays, and you felt helpless, the absence of his hand in yours leaving you cold.  

When the doctor finally emerged, you rushed to meet him, Javiera and Nicolás close behind.  

“Mr. Pascal has a broken arm,” the doctor explained. “It’s a clean break, but he’ll need surgery to set the bone properly. We’re scheduling it for late January.”  

Relief and worry collided in your chest. “Can I see him?” you asked, your voice small.  

The doctor nodded, and you followed the nurse to Pedro’s room. He was sitting up in bed, his arm in a temporary sling, his face pale but his smile still intact.  

“Hey, troublemaker,” he said, his voice softer than usual.  

You crossed the room in a few quick steps, perching on the edge of his bed. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you said, your voice breaking as tears spilled over.  

Pedro reached for your hand with his good arm, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your knuckles. “I’m sorry, mi amor,” he murmured, his eyes glistening.  

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “I thought… I thought something worse happened. I couldn’t breathe until I saw you.”  

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the pain. “And I’ll be fine. Especially with you by my side.”  

You kissed him gently, pouring every ounce of love and relief into the touch. As his lips moved against yours, you felt the fear begin to fade, replaced by the overwhelming gratitude that he was still here with you.  

“I’ll take care of you,” you promised, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”  

Pedro smiled, his gaze tender. “I don’t deserve you.”  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, brushing a tear from your cheek. “You deserve the world.”  

And in that moment, surrounded by beeping monitors and the sterile walls of the hospital, it felt like nothing else mattered but the two of you.

FORT RICASOLI, MALTA — DAY  

The sun was high over Fort Ricasoli, the Mediterranean breeze carrying a salty tang as waves crashed against the nearby shore. The reconstructed Roman Colosseum loomed grandly in the fort, its grandeur a perfect backdrop for the epic Gladiator II production. You stepped out of the transport van, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the bright Maltese sun, a bag slung over your shoulder filled with Pedro’s essentials—medication, snacks, and a cold water bottle you knew he’d try to avoid drinking unless reminded.  

As you walked toward the set, Pedro spotted you first, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart ache with affection. He was seated in the shade near the makeup tent, his left arm encased in a royal blue cast that made him look both ridiculous and endearing.  

“Hi,” you called, setting your bag down beside him. “I’m here to be your nurse.”  

Pedro’s grin widened, his dark eyes softening. “You’re more than my nurse. You’re my lifesaver. And I love you so much.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “How’s the arm?”  

“It’s humiliating,” he muttered, holding up the cast as if it were a mark of disgrace. “Everyone keeps staring at it. Or laughing. Or both.”  

“There’s nothing humiliating about needing help once in a while, my love,” you said gently, brushing a curl from his forehead. “Besides, it’s a great conversation starter.”  

“Oh, yeah. Real smooth. ‘Hi, I’m Pedro Pascal, and I fell down a flight of stairs like a medieval jester.’”  

You smothered a laugh just as Joseph Quinn sauntered by, pausing dramatically to give Pedro an exaggerated salute. “How’s the mighty warrior today? Still battling gravity, I see.”  

“Go away,” Pedro groaned, waving his good arm dismissively.  

“You’re a walking PSA now,” Fred Hechinger added as he passed. “Don’t text and walk down stairs, kids!”  

Denzel Washington approached next, shaking his head with mock solemnity. “And here I thought I was the one who’d pull a stunt like that.”  

“Traitors,” Pedro muttered, pulling you closer as if you could shield him from the teasing.  

Coco, his ever-sassy hair stylist, smirked as she fixed his curls. “Just make sure she doesn’t trip over your ego next.”  

“Coco!” Pedro whined, but his cheeks flushed, his pout making him look boyish and undeniably adorable.  

Ridley Scott ambled over, his tone a mix of concern and exasperation. “Take it easy, Pedro. You’re not 25 anymore.”  

“Gee, thanks, Ridley,” Pedro huffed, pulling you against him as if seeking comfort.  

The day pressed on, the heat making Pedro’s clinginess somehow both unbearable and heart-meltingly sweet. Despite the steady teasing from the cast and crew, he stuck close to you like a second shadow whenever he wasn’t on set, his blue cast drawing as much attention as his ever-present pout.  

During a break, he tugged at your hand, a soft whine slipping from his lips. “Go with me?”  

You glanced up from the book you were pretending to read. “Go where?”  

“Craft services,” he said, gesturing toward the shaded area where snacks and cold drinks awaited. “I’m starving, and I need moral support.”  

“You literally just had a protein bar,” you teased, but stood anyway, slipping your hand into his.  

“As long as you hold my hand,” you added with a smirk, letting him lead the way.  

His good hand entwined with yours, his thumb brushing lazy circles over your skin as you walked. “You know I’m not letting go, right?”  

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”  

Reaching the craft services tent, Pedro made a beeline for the iced lemonade, his cast making the process comically awkward. You reached over to help him hold the cup steady as he poured, ignoring the amused glances from the crew around you.  

“I got it,” he insisted, though his pouty tone betrayed his frustration.  

“Sure you do, Mr. Dexterity,” you teased. “Here, let me.”  

As you steadied the cup, Paul Mescal appeared beside you, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. “What’s it like being Pedro’s personal assistant and cuddle therapist?”  

Pedro narrowed his eyes, his body shifting slightly as if to shield you from Paul’s teasing. “She’s an angel,” he declared, his tone defensive. “Unlike all of you degenerates.”  

Paul laughed, grabbing a handful of chips. “Touché.”  

Connie Nielsen joined the growing group, her warm smile softening the teasing atmosphere. “An angel with the patience of a saint,” she agreed. “He’s lucky to have you.”  

You squeezed Pedro’s hand, glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eye. “Oh, I know.”  

Pedro leaned down, his voice low and sweet in your ear. “Remind me to buy you something shiny and expensive later.”  

“I’ll hold you to that,” you whispered back, brushing a kiss to his cheek just as Coco walked by, her ever-present smirk firmly in place.  

“Are we making out by the lemonade now?” she quipped, adjusting Pedro’s wig as she passed. “Just don’t knock over the drink dispenser, Casanova.”  

Pedro groaned, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching, betraying his amusement.  

When Pedro was shooting, you stayed nearby, perched under an umbrella with a bottle of water and a timer set for his next dose of medication. He’d been restless all morning, constantly checking in between takes to make sure you were still there.  

The moment the director called cut, Pedro scanned the area until his eyes landed on you. A small smile tugged at his lips as he made a beeline toward you, his costume slightly dusty from the action sequence.  

“Hydrate,” you ordered the moment he reached you, holding out the water bottle.  

He wrinkled his nose but took it, his good hand struggling to unscrew the cap. You wordlessly reached over to help, earning a sheepish look from him.  

“You know,” he said after a long sip, “you’re bossier than Ridley.”  

“You love it,” you countered, wiping the sweat from his brow with a small towel you’d tucked into your bag.  

Pedro’s lips curved into a soft smile, his gaze lingering on you. “I do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “A little too much.”  

Your heart squeezed at the tenderness in his tone, and you reached up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “Good. Now go back to work. Ridley’s glaring at us.”  

He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the director gesturing for him to return. “Fine,” he grumbled, but not before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.  

As he walked back toward the set, Ridley shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “That woman of yours has you wrapped around her little finger.”  

Pedro shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t I know it.”  

THE XARA PALACE RELAIS & CHÂTEAUX, MALTA — EVENING  

The day had taken its toll on both of you, but by the time you returned to the cozy luxury of the hotel suite, Pedro’s exhaustion only seemed to amplify his need for affection. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, he flopped dramatically onto the small couch, casting a forlorn look your way.  

“Come here,” he said, his good arm extended toward you like a lifeline.  

You chuckled, slipping off your sandals. “I thought you were tired.”  

“I am,” he replied, his lips twitching into a pout. “But I’ll sleep better if you’re right here.”  

Shaking your head fondly, you joined him on the couch, only to be pulled down against his side the moment you were close enough.  

“It’s too hot for this,” you teased, trying—and failing—to push against his firm hold.  

“Don’t care,” Pedro murmured, nuzzling into the curve of your neck as if you were the only source of comfort in the world. “You make everything better.”  

You sighed softly, your resolve melting as your fingers found their way into his curls. They were still slightly damp from his post-shoot shower, and you gently combed through them, marveling at how they always seemed to spring back into place.  

“I think that’s the heatstroke talking,” you quipped, though your voice was warm with affection.  

“No,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “That’s the love of my life talking.”  

Your hand stilled for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a gentle wave. You pulled back slightly to look at him, but Pedro didn’t let you get far. His warm brown eyes met yours, brimming with sincerity that made your breath catch.  

“You’re insufferable,” you said, though the tremor in your voice betrayed how deeply his words had affected you.  

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, his tone so soft and certain it made your heart ache in the best way.  

Your cheeks warmed, and you leaned down to press a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re lucky I love you,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin.  

Pedro grinned, his good arm tightening around you as he pulled you even closer. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”  

For a while, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the air conditioning blending with the distant sounds of the Maltese evening outside. Pedro’s breathing began to slow, his head resting heavily against your shoulder as he drifted off. His cast was awkwardly propped up on his chest, and you carefully adjusted a pillow beneath it, not wanting him to wake up sore.  

As you gazed down at him, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep, your heart swelled with a familiar ache—one born of overwhelming love. He might’ve been clingy and dramatic, prone to complaints about his cast and the heat, but he was also tender and selfless, with a way of making you feel like the most cherished person in the world.  

You traced the curve of his jaw with the tips of your fingers, marveling at how even in his sleep, his hold on you never loosened. He was steady and constant in a way that made you feel safe, loved, and utterly at home.  

He might’ve fallen down the stairs, but it felt like you were the one falling—deeper in love with him every single day.  

Later that night, as the two of you lay tangled together in the king-sized bed, Pedro stirred, his voice groggy but laced with warmth.  

“Are you still awake?”  

“Barely,” you murmured, your head resting against his uninjured shoulder. “Why?”  

He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing over your arm in lazy circles. “Just wanted to say… thank you.”  

“For what?”  

“For taking care of me. For putting up with me being clingy. For loving me even when I’m ridiculous,” he said, his voice soft but earnest.  

You smiled in the darkness, pressing a kiss to his chest. “It’s not putting up with you, Pedro. It’s just loving you. And it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”  

His breath hitched, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his words carrying the weight of unspoken emotion.  

“You deserve everything,” you replied, your voice firm despite the tears prickling at your eyes.  

Pedro’s arms tightened around you, and in that moment, the world outside the four walls of your suite seemed to fade away. There was only the two of you, tangled together in love and gratitude, the promise of another day together stretching out before you like a gift.  

And as you drifted off to sleep, cradled in his embrace, you couldn’t imagine a place you’d rather be. 

COASTS OF MALTA — MORNING  

The morning sun bathed the harbor in a soft, golden glow as you and Pedro stepped onto the pristine deck of the yacht, greeted by the lively chatter of his castmates and the crew. The day promised adventure—an exploration of Malta’s dazzling coastlines, including the famed Blue Lagoon, Crystal Lagoon, and the secretive caves on Comino. The air smelled of salt and freedom, and the water, impossibly blue and inviting, stretched out like a gem-laden carpet before you.  

Pedro lingered close to you, his blue cast slung in a casual sling, though it didn’t stop him from giving your hand a light squeeze. He leaned down, his voice low and teasing.  

"Don’t get too excited," he murmured with a grin, his dark eyes gleaming. "You’ll make me look bad."  

You bumped your shoulder into his, rolling your eyes. "I can’t help it if I’m more fun than you."  

"More fun? Or more distracting?" His gaze flicked briefly to the bikini peeking out from your cover-up, his expression bordering on predatory before he quickly masked it with a playful smirk.  

“Behave, Pascal,” you teased, your cheeks warming under his intense stare.  

As the boat cruised toward its first stop, the Blue Lagoon, the mood was light and cheerful. Connie and Fred lounged near the bow, animatedly swapping stories with the crew, their laughter carrying over the soft sound of the waves. Coco flitted around like a hummingbird with her camera, capturing candid shots of the lively group. Near the railing, Paul was attempting to teach Denzel a ridiculous dance move, the two of them tripping over their own feet and causing more chaos than rhythm.  

You stood near Pedro, feeling the sun’s warmth on your skin, the gentle breeze teasing at your cover-up. A playful grin spread across your face as you untied the knot at your waist, sliding the fabric off and tossing it onto a nearby lounge chair. The vibrant bikini beneath was perfectly chosen—bright and bold against your skin, hugging your curves in a way that made you feel confident and beautiful.  

Pedro, seated comfortably in the shade with his injured arm resting on a cushion, froze mid-sip of his drink. His gaze locked onto you, his eyes darkening as they traced every inch of your form. Appreciation was clear in his expression, but it was the simmering heat in his stare that sent a thrill down your spine.  

You stretched your arms over your head, feigning oblivion to his attention as you joined Coco and Paul in their antics. The movement made your waist curve just enough to draw a quiet groan from Pedro’s lips, which didn’t go unnoticed by Coco. She smirked, leaning down to whisper as she passed him.  

“Subtle,” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.  

Pedro didn’t even attempt to hide his grin. His eyes stayed glued to you as he shrugged, unapologetic. “Can you blame me?”  

Coco snorted. “Not one bit. But maybe cool it unless you want everyone else to notice how thirsty  you are.”  

“Let them,” Pedro muttered, mostly to himself. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he watched you laugh with Paul, the way your body moved under the bright sun making it nearly impossible for him to look away.  

When you caught his eye and shot him a playful wink, his good hand flexed against the armrest of his chair, the urge to pull you back to him almost too strong to resist.  

Later, as you leaned over the edge of the boat, peering down at the water with Paul pointing out fish, Pedro’s voice rumbled low behind you.  

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”  

You turned to find him standing close, his cast resting awkwardly at his side. “I am. The water’s beautiful,” you said with a smile, but his eyes weren’t on the water.  

“They’re not the only thing,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist.  

Heat bloomed on your cheeks, but you couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips. “Pedro Pascal,” you teased, stepping closer. “Are you flirting with me on a boat in front of all your castmates?”  

“Flirting?” He scoffed, his voice rich with amusement. “I’m just admiring. Can’t a man admire his girlfriend?”  

“Girlfriend?” you repeated, arching a brow.  

He smirked, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost over your skin. “The girlfriend,” he corrected, his voice dropping into a tone that sent a shiver racing through you despite the heat.  

You bit your lip, glancing around at the others, who were too distracted to notice the charged moment. “Behave yourself,” you whispered, though your heart raced at the way his good hand brushed lightly against your hip.  

He grinned, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m trying, but you’re not making it easy, sweetheart.”  

The way he said it, rough and low, had your stomach doing flips. The teasing sparkle in his eyes told you he knew exactly the effect he was having on you—and he wasn’t the least bit sorry about it.

When the boat anchored near the Blue Lagoon, you practically bounced with excitement. “I’m going in!”  

Pedro chuckled as you grabbed your snorkeling gear, pausing to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Try not to miss me too much,” you teased before hopping off the boat with an elegant dive.  

“Not possible,” he called after you, his voice tinged with laughter.  

The water was cool and crystal clear, every ripple catching the sunlight like scattered diamonds. You swam alongside Coco and Paul, laughing as he tried to outswim everyone only to splash clumsily when Coco teased him about his lack of grace. Schools of fish darted around you, their silvery bodies glimmering in the lagoon’s shallows, and the thrill of the moment made you forget the world beyond the sparkling blue waters.  

Pedro watched from the deck, his good hand cradling a drink as his cast rested on his lap. He smiled softly, his heart swelling at the sight of you. You were so effortlessly kind, so radiant, laughing and splashing with his friends as if you’d known them your whole life.  

“She’s really something,” Ridley remarked as he joined Pedro at the shaded table.  

“Don’t I know it,” Pedro replied, his voice warm with pride.  

“She’s good for you,” Ridley said simply, his tone laced with a rare softness.  

Pedro glanced at the director, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. She’s my soulmate.”  

Later, you clambered back onto the boat, droplets of water clinging to your skin, sparkling in the sunlight as they traced lazy paths down your arms and legs. Your grin was infectious, the kind of radiant joy that could light up an entire room—or, in this case, the deck of the boat. Pedro’s eyes were glued to you, as though the rest of the world had faded into the background.  

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement but warm with affection.  

“The best,” you replied breathlessly, grabbing a towel and wringing out your hair. “You should’ve come in with us. The water is incredible.”  

He raised his cast dramatically, pulling a mock grimace. “In case you forgot, I’m a bit handicapped here.”  

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, crouching beside him. You leaned in to press a playful kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just long enough to make him sigh. “Next time, I’ll stay on the boat with you. We can sulk together.”  

Pedro’s good hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer before you could stand. “Don’t you dare,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Watching you have fun out there is the next best thing to being in the water myself.”  

You arched a brow, motioning to your bikini with a teasing grin. “You mean you like the view.”  

Pedro’s lips curved into a slow, devilish smirk. His mouth brushed your ear as he whispered, “I love the view.”  

The heat of his words sent a shiver down your spine, making your cheeks flush. You swatted at his chest playfully before standing and tossing the towel over your shoulder. “Careful, Pascal. You’re not supposed to overheat with that cast on.”  

The boat anchored near the caves on Comino, the turquoise water shimmering like liquid glass. Pedro waved you off with a mock sternness, insisting you go explore while he stayed behind.  

“I’ll hold down the fort,” he said, settling back into his chair with a small smirk. “Don’t get lost in there.”  

You rolled your eyes, blowing him a kiss before diving into the water with Paul and Fred. The group swam toward the darkened entrance of the caves, their laughter echoing off the limestone walls. Inside, the sunlight filtered through cracks, casting dancing patterns on the rocky surfaces.  

Pedro, stuck on the boat, didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. His gaze followed you like a shadow, lingering on the curve of your body as you moved effortlessly through the water. Every so often, you glanced back at the boat, catching him watching you. He didn’t even pretend to look away, his expression soft, adoring, and entirely unguarded.  

When you returned, dripping wet and exhilarated, you plopped down beside him with a dramatic sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder.  

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” you teased, your tone light but your heart pounding at the intensity of his attention.  

Pedro turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against your temple. “Can you blame me?” he murmured. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your hand finding his on the armrest. “You’re laying it on thick today,” you joked, though your voice wavered just slightly.  

“It’s the truth,” he countered simply, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.  

Your moment was interrupted by Paul’s exaggerated wolf whistle from across the deck. “Get a room, you two!”  

Fred chimed in with a loud groan. “Some of us are single and fragile!”  

You laughed, your head falling back briefly before you turned to Pedro, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “They’re just jealous.”  

“Damn right, they are,” Pedro said, leaning in close. “You’re all mine.”  

The possessiveness in his tone was playful but sent your pulse racing nonetheless.  

Later, as the boat rocked gently in the open waters, you sat on Pedro’s lap, his good arm wrapped securely around your waist. The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold.  

“Pedro,” you said softly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his thigh. “Can we stay like this forever?”  

His eyes softened as he looked down at you, his smile tender. “I’d stay here with you forever if I could,” he replied, his voice filled with quiet certainty.  

The weight of his words settled over you, grounding you in the moment. You bit your lip, leaning in closer until your noses brushed. “Please just kiss me already.”  

Pedro didn’t need to be asked twice. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, full of unspoken promises and a depth of feeling that took your breath away. His hand splayed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer as the world around you seemed to disappear.  

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a soft laugh. “I think you might be my soulmate,” he said, his voice a mixture of awe and certainty.  

Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, the noise of the others and the gentle lapping of the waves faded entirely. “I think you might be mine too,” you whispered, sealing the moment with another kiss.  

Laughter and chatter echoed around you, the boat a hub of joy and togetherness, but for you and Pedro, time seemed to stand still. In his arms, surrounded by the beauty of Malta and the warmth of his love, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[babeyun]

fool me three times... ✩ s.jy [m]

synopsis: you've come home late twice this week, and for the third time to be on jake's birthday is not as charming as they say. genre: established relationship, pwp (sigh...), angst/smut/tiny bit of fluff pairing: sim jaeyun x fem!reader word count: 3.3k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, angry?jake, mentions of jay (poor guy). petnames (baby..sir [free me!!!!]), mentions of voyeurism/3way. biting, spitting, a singular slap (below the belt), oral (f.rec), fingering (f.rec), squirting, degrading, no aftercare (but it's fine i promise) listen to: fallin' - dawn, pH-1 ; abyss - dawn ; meddle about - chase atlantic author's note: i wrote this on a whim, and i'm not entirely happy with it (smut is not my forte nor do i love writing it.) i'd originally planned to take one of my ideas out of the vault and write it in advance, but i got slammed with schoolwork. i am so, so tired as i write this note. happy birthday, jaeyun. i love u.

It's twelve-forty-two in the morning.

This is the third time this week that Jake finds himself sitting on the couch, alone in your shared apartment. He's turned all the lights off, legs crossed over one another as he checks his phone for the fifth time. Nothing.

He sighs inwardly, leaning further into the soft cushions of the couch. You'd picked this out together, and it was one of your favorite places to spend time together that wasn't your bedroom. The soft brown suede had seen the two of you in many situations – cuddling under a soft white blanket Jake's mom gave you for Christmas last year. Sharing a bowl of cereal because you were too lazy to get up and make your own, but you gladly stood up and refilled his bowl. Holding hands tightly when a scary scene came on the television, crashing on the couch after dancing around together to Fallin' by Dawn and pH-1.

Kissing like two desperate lovers, unable to even take your clothes off to fully feel each other's skin. This couch had seen you in every position imaginable, the cushion on the far right the usual place for your face if Jake was too excited to make it to the bedroom.

You were so busy these days. You hadn't had a date night in three weeks, hadn't had sex in two…and unfortunately – it's making him a little insane.

Recently…the couch had seen more and more of Jake, alone. Jake sitting alone, popcorn bowl in his lap as he waited for you to come home from work. Jake, laying down while wearing the oversized hoodie you'd worn the day before, engulfed in the soft grapefruit notes of your perfume. Jake, letting Layla up on the couch to snuggle with because he can't feel your warmth at that moment.

Jake, missing you.

He sighs again, flipping his phone over.

12:45AM.

No new messages from you, no missed calls. Just the soft sound of Abyss by Dawn.

Where have you gone? You were his best friend. His best friend wrapped gently in the sheets of his love, filled to the brim with his soft words and loving caresses. You were his best friend, his lover, his everything. He saw himself in you, his whole purpose was you.

"Shh, he's probably asleep." He hears your voice from the other side of the front door, before hearing you try to gently slide your key in the lock. His eyes widened, pressing pause on the song before bolting for the bedroom. He doesn't make it in time, the door opening and his ears picking up on a familiar laugh.

Jay.

"Jongseong, for the love of God." You grit, and Jake watches as the two of you carefully toe off your shoes, loads of bags in your hands as Jay snickers to himself, carefully tiptoeing to the kitchen in the dark. The hallway light illuminates the back of you, and you suddenly stiffen, lifting your head to meet Jake's eyes.

He scoffs inwardly, watching as you try to fumble with the lightswitch in the living room just as he slides into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He locks it, hearing you start an argument with Jay in the kitchen as you shut the front door.

Unfortunately, Jake only stews in his anger. He doesn't know why you're late today, but it seems Jay has your attention more than your boyfriend does. Your boyfriend of three years, pushed to the side the day before (and day of) his birthday for a friend you made through Jake.

Jake flips onto the bed, a frustrated groan from his lips as he hears the two of you rustling around in the kitchen. The fact that you haven't even come to the bedroom to let him know that you're home is even more infuriating, and Jake feels his throat start to burn as he holds back angry tears.

Jake had always been good at setting boundaries and putting feelings first, despite being somewhat of a more logical thinker. You were an incredibly emotional person, hidden behind layers of shitty relationships and hurtful friendships, was your tired heart trying to patch itself up. Jake knew that if it was him that did this – not texting you when he'd be home late, letting you agonize over your whereabouts, coming home with one of your friends in tow and giggling like they had some sort of secret…

You'd make a fucking scene.

But Jake can't bring himself to do that. Even in all his anger, his frustration…his hurt, he can't confront you like that. It's not fair, to either of you (or Jay, but who's talking about that guy right now? Not Jake.)

He takes a deep breath, feeling a tear slip down the side of his face. He wipes it away quickly, only standing up from the bed to unlock the door. He takes your hoodie off, the grapefruit perfume making his chest ache. He knows you could just be planning a surprise for him. He knows that, but his mind can't help but wonder as he pulls back the comforter.

Why three late nights, in one week? Why no messages, why no phone calls? You wouldn't even kiss him hello when you arrived, just a tired smile and a soft hey. Your hair was always in disarray, and he knew it was because you liked to drive with the windows down. He knew that.

Sighing, he slips under the covers, facing away from the door. He hears you laugh loudly, before hearing your soft footsteps make their way to the bedroom. He wipes at his eyes, feeling a few more tears trickle down his fingers as he hears the door open gently.

He doesn't turn to face you, instead choosing to squeeze his eyes shut when he hears you sigh gently.

"I know you're awake." You murmur, but he doesn't respond. He doesn't turn around, choosing to breathe through his mouth to hide the fact that your behavior drove him to tears. You click your tongue, and he hears the zipper of your pants. You're moving around, undressing from the pretty pink blouse and grey slacks he chose for you that morning. 

He pulls the covers up further, covering his bare shoulders before feeling your hand on the back of his neck. Your fingertips are warm, your thumb gently circling his pulse point. "Jake." "What?" He mutters, the bite of his tone not going unnoticed. You sigh, and he peels open one eye to look up at you. "What, Y/N?" He sees your eyes scan his face, before your hand on his neck gives a soft squeeze. "I love you." He doesn't like how quickly the knot in his stomach goes away at your words, or the way you can tell his cheeks and ears are tinging pink. He scoffs, closing his eye and moving from your touch. "I love you, too. Keep it down."

"Mmh." You hum in response, but he feels your hand card through his hair. He huffs, before feeling your lips press gently on his temple. "I miss you, my baby." You say against his skin, and pull away entirely. He hears you open his dresser drawer, and the rustling of his clothing being pulled onto your body. He opens his eyes to see you tug on a random shirt of his, pulling your hair out of the neckline before opening the door. 

"Y/N, where is your butter?!" Jay calls, and you quickly shut the door, scampering down the hall.

He can hear the two of you bickering before you groan frustratedly, and he can hear Jay say he's going to the store. You argue that you don't even really need the butter for the cake, but Jay's words take Jake by surprise.

"Maybe go spend some time with him while I'm out of here. You know, I love you because you're my friend, but you're really dense today. Sometimes your boyfriend just needs you."

You didn't reply, or at least Jake doesn't think you did as he hears the door open and close. He hears you groan, and he's out of bed before he can even realize it. He grabs the hoodie back off the top of the dresser, shoving his head through it before yanking the door open.

"Y/N." He calls from the threshold of the bedroom, and you poke your head out of the kitchen. Your eyes are wide, but he can see how tired you are by the bags under your eyes. You probably took it off during your overtime, you'd been doing that a lot lately.

He sighs, closing the bedroom door behind him as he walks towards the kitchen. You step out, shaking your head. "You can't go in there, Jake. I'm��we…" "I'm just going to get the butter for you." He rolls his eyes, pushing past and looking away from all the stuff on the counter – but not before catching a glimpse of baby blue frosting in a bag. There were egg cartons stacked neatly, and three gallons of milk. Too many bags of flour to count, and Jake opens the freezer to pull out the butter he'd put up there earlier.

He'd gone grocery shopping by himself, because you weren't able to get off work. He wasn't upset about it, but he remembers you liked to freeze the butter until you had to use it. He doesn't remember why, but the habit stuck with him.

Just like all of your other little habits.

Your eyes are wide as he slides it onto the island, before worming back out of the kitchen. He doesn't say anything to you, only slinking past your tired shoulders when you manage to grab his fingers. He stops in his tracks, sighing as you skirt around to face him. He looks down at you, a tense clench in his jaw as he moves his brows in query.

"Don't be mad." You breathe, both your hands now holding his wrist and fingers. Your eyes search his face, finding the anger in the twitch of his brows before he shakes his head. "I'm not. I'm just tired." "I'm tired too, but I'm not looking at you like that." Jake feels his head swim as he takes in the tinge of guilt in your voice. He knows you're trying to do something nice for him, even if you're shitty at keeping secrets. He knows you're not doing anything to hurt him, you just have a horrible way of executing things.

He appreciates you nonetheless, because he knows that you're trying your best. Your schedule is jam-packed – your days are long and frustrating, full of people that need your help constantly, full of you having to make decisions for everyone else.

Jake being someone who values quality time clashed with that. He remembers how he'd squeeze in seeing you during your lunch break when you first started dating, just to have a moment alone. He remembers even waking up early to drive to your old apartment and sit in your bedroom while you got ready for work, just for a chance to give you a good morning kiss.

He made time. You're making time.

"I'm sorry." You speak again, your hands squeezing his arm lightly. "Yeah?" He shakes his head, but you nod quickly, your hands floating to his face.

"I am, I'm sorry. I know I should be–" "Prove it." He cuts you off, his face just inches from yours. Your eyes are glued to his lips, before they flicker up to his. He furrows his eyebrows at you expectantly, your tongue wetting your own lips just slightly. "How?" "You know how." His response is curt, and you swallow hard. "...Can I kiss you?" He doesn't respond, opting to answer physically. His lips press to yours gently, hands snaking around your waist to pull you closer to him. He craved your presence, in any way he could have it. He feels you sigh into his mouth as his fingers slip under your shirt, pinching at the soft skin.

"Bedroom." You mumble against his lips, and he shakes his head. "Right here." His lips move down your jaw, before his teeth catch your earring, tugging it gently. You groan as his hands move under your sweatpants, palming at your ass as you struggle to speak. "Jay-" He growls against your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin before running his tongue over it. "I don't give a shit about Jay. We can give him a show if he wants to watch." 

He reconnects your lips, tongue sliding into your mouth as he moves the two of you back to the couch. His fingers push your sweatpants down as the back of your legs hit the cushion, and you look over at the door, seeing it slightly ajar and unlocked. "The door–" "Fuck the door." He groans, tugging your underwear down in one go. He pushes you gently back against the couch before kneeling in front of you, tugging the clothing off your bottom half before yanking you closer to him by your ankle. You yelp before feeling him bite at your inner thigh. "Jake!" "That's for being late on Monday." He mutters, before sinking his teeth into your other thigh, a whimper from your throat catching his attention. "That's for being late on Thursday." "I'm sorry, I was just–" "I don't want to hear it." He interrupts, shrugging. He lowers his head again, watching you brace yourself for the sharp pain of his teeth, smiling to himself before spitting on your pussy. You jolt, but can't say anything as he quickly drags his tongue through your slit. He laps at you like a dog, messily collecting your arousal on his tongue as you breathe heavily.

His nose bumps your clit as he avoids touching it with his tongue entirely, opting to thrust the wet muscle into your hole as you whine his name out desperately. "J-Jake, please, I'm sorry–" He pulls away, his lips and chin covered in your slick as he runs the tips of his cold fingers through your folds. "You know, you could've texted me."

You shudder as his thumb makes contact with your clit, the pressure light as he circles it. "I know, Jakey, I'm–" "Or called. I paid the phone bill, and I got the confirmation email. Your phone works." He interjects, nodding his head as he eases the tip of his middle finger into you, smiling to himself as your head lolls back. "I'm sorry." You breathe out, Jake's finger curling inside you to brush that spot that makes your eyes roll. He only hums in response, feeling you cover his hand in your arousal as he slowly adds another finger, relishing in the wet sound of your pussy against his hand. "You're going to prove it to me, right? Gonna cum all over my hand, right? That's all you're good for, anyway." His tone is condescending, making you clench around his fingers. His eyes widen, before a low chuckle slips through his lips. "You like that? Being nothing but a hole for me to use?" You whimper, hiding your face in your hands as your hips meet Jake's fingers, only for his hand to slip out and land a sharp smack against your clit. You gasp, your legs threatening to close as Jake bullies his shoulders between them, his fingers slipping back into you with practiced ease.

"You can't call, you can't text, and now you can't speak. Forgive me for thinking your brain would work for anything." He rolls his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush at his own words. The two of you had never explored this, only sweet nothings and soft praises expressed between you, even a soft slut thrown in if the night was especially raunchy.

"I'm sorry, Jake, I'm sorry." Your thighs are trembling on his shoulders, and he scoffs against your skin. "Yeah, yeah." 

He lowers his head, lips latching onto your swollen clit. His eyes flutter shut at the taste of you, his knees weak at the idea of having gone so long without it. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he curls his own upwards, the tug of yours making him moan into your wet cunt. Soft gasps of don't stop hitting his ears, and he knows he should be upset at you but it would take an entire army to pry him off you at that moment.

He feels you clamp down on his fingers, your back arching off the couch as he feels your release soak his face and hoodie, dripping down his fingers onto the carpet. He slurps at you eagerly, his fingers overstimulating you as you try to pull him away by his hair. "J-Jake, s'too much…" You trail off, not able to finish your sentence as he tongues at your clit with vigor, your thighs clamping shut around him. "One more, c'mon. One more, show me how sorry you are."

He hears you cry his name out softly, eyes looking up to see your head thrown back against the couch, chest moving up in shallow breaths. He kisses up your stomach, nipping as he moves up, his fingers never slowing their pace as he pushes your shirt up with his free hand, cool fingers palming at your chest. His fingers gently toy with your nipple, a soft groan from you as your thighs start to shake a bit harder.

"You're sorry, right?" He lifts himself to meet your face, your eyes glistening with unshed tears as you nod. "You'll call or text when you're going to be late, right, angel?" "Yes." You whisper as his lips ghost over yours. "Yes, what?" "Yes, sir." Your eyes flutter shut, and he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Open."

Your lips part with a pathetic whimper of his name, before he gracefully spits onto your tongue. His lips press to yours quickly, suppressing your moans as his fingers pick up their pace, feeling your release drip all over his hand and the couch. "I love you, okay? I just get worried." His mumbles are soft in comparison to the degrading words he'd said earlier, and you can't bring yourself to speak back as you nod against his lips. You kiss him back slowly, putting all your energy into it. "I'm sorry." "It's okay. Are you okay? Let me get a towel, okay?"

You shake your head, carding your fingers through his hair and holding him close. His fingers slip out of you, a dull ache between your thighs as he taps your knee. "Baby, c'mon." "Please." You murmur against his lips, and he feels a flustered smile taking over as he shakes his head. "Jay'll be back soon–"

"Oh, come on." Jay's voice rings through the air, and Jake looks up to see the guy covering his eyes as he runs into the kitchen. Jake's ears burn in embarrassment, only to feel you tug on the sleeve of his hoodie. "Please, Jakey." "Jay–" "You said you didn't care earlier. Why do you care now?" You pout, canting your hips against the tent in his shorts, watching his eyes flutter shut and his lip tucked between his teeth. "You're so–" "Can you guys please take it elsewhere?" Jay whines from the kitchen, and you snort. Jake sighs inwardly, awkwardly rooting around for your sweatpants before finding them just beneath him, entirely soaked.

"Fuck." He shoves the material up your legs anyway, before wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting you up carefully as Jay peeks out the kitchen. "I assume I'm in here alone for the rest of the night?" You smile at him over Jake's shoulder, "Unless you want to join."

Jake stops, looking over his shoulder at one of his oldest friends. Jay's face looks a bit conflicted, his brows furrowed but cheeks pink with embarrassment. Jake's throat clearing garners the older man's attention, a small smile on Jake's lips.

"You wouldn't say no to your best friend on his birthday, would you?"

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[authorbriannarae13]

Mind of Mine // i just want to watch you take it off - joel miller

Joel Miller x female! reader

read on AO3 here.

summary; "You got 'nother one, sugar?"

Joel knows exactly how to get you wetter than ever. or this is the work you get when the author listens to the song 'TiO' off of the album 'Mind Of Mine' on repeat. for five hours.

warnings; smut (MDNI); unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); mostly soft!joel; actually all soft!joel, so much praise

word count; 1.3k (it's my first joel fic, ok?)

-

You’re swaying to the music while Joel’s behind you, cooking as always.

He usually ignores you – not because you’re necessarily a distraction – but instead, because giving you the attention you crave doesn’t end well. For either of you. Last time he gave you attention, your wrists were secured to the headboard as he fucked your brains out, giving you too many orgasms to count and forgetting about the food.

Oops.

You live to be a tease, though.

It excites you too much to stop.

Mainly because it lets him plan how he’s going to punish you. Or praise you.

Whichever he’s in the mood for.

Based on his current mood – which is subject to change – he’s most definitely going to praise you.

And after the day you’ve had, it’s definitely what you need. Working for a publishing house can be stressful. And today was one of those days.

Good thing Joel loves to make you feel light – weightless, actually.

Not to mention how safe you feel. And when you feel safe, the softer side comes out.

Like all relationships, you just need to feel safe to show it.

“Darlin’,” his rough, Southern drawl interrupts your music, and you turn it off.

“Yes?” you ask, teasingly. Trying to rile him up.

But you never succeed. He knows you too well for that.

Turning away and holding a hand out, he murmurs a simple, “C’mere.”

So, you take it, letting him drag you and lift you up – right into his arms. Bridal style, of course.

You groan as your thighs clench, trying to hide your soaked cunt.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead.

“Fuck off,” you mutter while he carries you to the bedroom. Since he insists, he needs his fill of you before he can think about anything else – or dessert, as he likes to call it.

He kicks the door open and lays you down, playing with the hem of your skirt.

Your hips buck into his touch. He’s teasing you – you realize.

“Joel,” you moan as he hooks his fingers into your waistband, pulling your skirt down, and revealing the soaked black lace covering your cunt.

He pulls the lace aside, running his fingers against your swollen pussy, and he groans deep in his throat. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, pretty girl.”

Your brain goes blank as his index and middle finger both sink inside you, curling towards your g-spot.

“Fuck, sir.”

“N’ne of that sir shit tonight, baby.” He grabs your ankles, placing them on his shoulders as he sinks to his knees and licks a stripe up to your swollen - and aching - clit.

Your head falls back as your eyes roll into the back out your head. “Fuckk.”

You’re so close. If he would just curl his fingers against your g-spot just one more time, you’d be there.

He lets out a gruff chuckle that reverberates though your body as his other hand finds you shirt, pushing it up to find your nipple, pinching it.

That sends you over the edge. “Fuck, Joel,” you moan as the orgasm hits, crashing you into waves with each one more intense than the one before it.

His tongue doesn’t stop lapping at your clit even as you try to buck him off. “I can’t. I can’t- “

He cuts you off before you can repeat it again, “You can and will give me ‘nother one, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you groan as he pulls his fingers out, thrusting them back in while your back arches.

In. Out. In. Out. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

His fingers thrust faster as your thighs start to wrap around his head, trying to keep him there.

The second orgasm is faster than the first. You let out a silent scream as the waves rush into you for the second time in less than ten minutes.

“Good – fuck – good fuckin’ girl,” he groans, his tongue still swirling around your clit as the waves subside.

The strength from earlier leaves you almost immediately, making your legs fall. You’re boneless, but you also know he fucks you regardless of just how boneless you feel.

“You got ‘nother one for me, sugar?”

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and brings them up to your mouth, “Taste yourself.”

You happily oblige, opening your mouth to take his fingers and tasting your cum mixed with his skin in a fucked up symphony.

His groan reverberates off the walls as you suck on his fingers – the same way you always have his cock. That’s when he starts to pull your panties down your legs, giving him better access.

Since that’s what this is all about, of course. And better access usually means better orgasms.

Speak of the devil – that shit must hurt. He looks painfully hard.

He interrupts your staring. “You like what you see?”

You slowly start to nod, but he slowly pulls his hand away, fingers leaving with a pop.

He leans down towards you, as you lean up and play with the hem of his shirt before you decide to pull it off.

Next is his belt as you hurry and rip it off, trying to get to his jeans.

“Woah,” he lets out a low chuckle, “’u’re a feisty one tonight, aren’t ya, beautiful?”

“No,” you whine as he starts to stop your frantic hands. “Just need you,”

“Where ya need me?”

“You know where,” you sass with everything you can muster.

“Need to hear ya say it, baby.”

“Fuck,” you moan as his jeans lightly graze your cunt. “Need you in me – fuck – now.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, pulling his jeans and boxers down – as fast as he can. “’U’re g’nna be the death of me, pretty girl.”

“I – fuck –“ His thrust cuts you off as he bottoms out. “I live to please.”

“So I can tell,” is the hiss you get back while he waits for you to adjust.

“Move already,” you whine before you can stop yourself. “Break me for all I – fuck –care.”

He slowly finds the pace you’re accustomed to – hard and fast.

“Look at ‘cha. You’re takin’ me so well.”

Your cunt clenches around him as he continues. “Aw, does my good girl need to be reminded of how good she feels?”

“You-“ you start, “you keep doing that and I’ll finish faster than I ever have.”

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Is that a promise?”

“B-better be,” you stutter as his thumb finds your clit. Again.

“Fuck.” Your head falls back again. Everything is sensitive.

You’re not even expecting the orgasm when it washes over you.

“Good – fuck. You’re such a good girl f’r me, sugar,” he praises, not taking his thumb away.

“Fuck.” It’s somewhere between a moan and groan. “Fuck, everything’s so sensitive.” Now that’s definitely a groan.

He ignores you, continuing his praise. “Fuck. Good girl. God, Good fuckin’ girl.”

You softly whine as he slowly speeds his pace up, trying to find his own orgasm.

After more futile moans, whimpers, and whatever else he can pull out of you.

“Fuck, you’re g’nna make me cum so fuckin’ fast, pretty girl. Goddamn-“ And that’s when you feel his orgasm crash into him – violent and unforgiving.

The orgasm lasts so long that neither one of you can keep up with how much time has passed. It isn’t until he flips you two over, so you’re on top and he’s not crushing you, that you know it’s done.

“Fuck,” you softly laugh, pressing your ear to his chest and listening to his heartbeat as he holds you tightly. You kiss his chest while he hums.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs kissing your forehead, “u’re all fucked out, aren’t ya?”

“Maybe,” you tease while he gives you a look.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”

Eventually, after Joel made sure you were okay in every aspect, you two make your way back into the kitchen, attempting to get your appetite back after all that.

You’re standing behind him with your head laying on his back when you murmur, “I love you forever and always, baby.”

You can hear the soft smile in his voice when he says, “I love you more than anything else, darlin’.”

[loveesiren]

𝒮𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒

Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon) x Reader

a/n: see the full request here! I changed it a little, hope you don't mind! I wrote this while kind of tipsy so it's not my favorite, sorry if the proofreading was shit/if there's any mistakes! I hope you enjoy regardless! <3

synopsis: After their fight, Y/n is surprised to hear that her best friend still needs her so desperately.

warnings: angst, language, panic attack, fluff

wc: 3.7k+

Spending time with your best friend has always been your favorite thing in the world. Jiyong was your safe space, your person—the one you could sit in comfortable silence with or talk to for hours on end without ever running out of things to say. But lately, that joy had been overshadowed by a growing concern gnawing at your chest.

BIGBANG’s tour was just around the corner, and their new album was about to drop. It was supposed to be an exciting time, and it was—you were beyond thrilled for them, for him. You had always been his biggest supporter, ready to help in any way you could. But as you sat in the dimly lit practice room, watching Jiyong push himself to his absolute limit, that excitement soured into unease.

His voice was raw from overuse, cracked and strained in a way that made you wince every time he spoke. He practiced his choreography until he was drenched in sweat, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Some nights, he worked himself to the point of collapse, and you were the one left to pick up the pieces—carrying his limp, exhausted body to bed, draping a blanket over his shaking form, whispering for him to rest even though you knew he wouldn’t listen.

Tonight was no different. The music blasted through the studio speakers, and Jiyong was lost in the rhythm, his body moving on autopilot despite the evident exhaustion written all over him. You watched as his steps faltered, his balance wavering. Then, just like that, his legs buckled, and he went crashing down.

“Jiyong!” You rushed to his side, your heart hammering as you kneeled beside him. His skin was clammy, his breathing ragged as he tried to push himself up. You grabbed the water bottle you’d brought for him and shoved it into his trembling hands.

“Drink,” you urged, your voice softer now, laced with worry. He took a few sips, barely able to keep the bottle steady. “Ji, you’re worrying me,” you admitted, eyes searching his for any sign that he’d finally listen, that he’d see what he was doing to himself.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Just have to make sure I’m ready for tour.”

You shook your head. “Ji, you’re overworking yourself. You���ve got everything perfected, okay? Give yourself time to rest.”

He exhaled sharply, pushing himself to his feet despite your hand reaching out to steady him. “You don’t get it, Y/n,” he said, brushing past you, already making his way back to the center of the room.

You stood as well, crossing your arms as you watched him stubbornly reset the track. “I get that you’re tired, Ji,” you said gently, trying again. “You’re just hurting yourself at this point—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, cutting you off as the first beats of the song echoed through the studio.

Your chest tightened. “I’m just worried… I mean, you fainted and now you just want to keep going like nothing happened?”

Jiyong clenched his jaw, his fists balling at his sides. He turned to face you, eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, frustration, desperation?

“Look, Y/n,” he said, his voice cold and sharp, each word like a blade slicing through your chest. “You’re a bartender, alright? You don’t have to be that skilled at anything.”

The air in the room shifted instantly. You felt the words like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat.

Jiyong must have seen the way your face fell because for a split second, his expression flickered with something softer—regret, maybe? But then it was gone, replaced by a steely determination as he turned back to his practice.

“If I’m not perfect, then I’m done. Alright?” He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “If you can’t handle it, then fuck off.”

Silence.

You scoffed, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips even as you fought to keep the tears at bay. “Wow,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Fuck you, Jiyong.”

You turned on your heel, grabbing your bag with shaking hands as you stormed out of the studio. You half-expected him to call after you, to chase after you and take it back. But he didn’t.

The only sound that followed you was the relentless pounding of the bass as he started the song over again.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold night air hit you, but it did nothing to dull the sting of his words. Your vision blurred as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. You barely registered getting into your car, hands gripping the wheel so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

You had always known Jiyong could be stubborn, obsessive even. But this? This was something else. This was him drowning, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull him back to the surface.

And worst of all, he didn’t even want you to.

You barely made it into your apartment before collapsing onto your bed, burying your face in the pillows as sobs wracked your body. You cried until there was nothing left, until exhaustion took over, pulling you into a restless sleep.

-

How is he? You texted Seunghyun, your fingers hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

A few minutes passed before your phone buzzed with his response.

Being a total prick.

You sighed, pressing your forehead into your palm. It had been three days since you last spoke to Jiyong. Three days since he spat those words at you, since you walked out of that practice studio, feeling like the ground had been ripped from beneath you. Three days of silence.

And now, with BIGBANG’s first show of the tour just four days away, all you could do was check in through the others. You had been messaging Seunghyun and Daesung, hoping—maybe even praying—that Jiyong would come to his senses, that he’d realize how badly he had hurt you. But instead, he was still working himself into the ground, still burning himself out, and in return, treating everyone around him like shit.

You bit your lip, debating whether to text him. Your fingers hovered over his contact, but your stomach twisted at the memory of his voice.

"You’re a bartender, alright? You don’t have to be that skilled at anything."

That one line alone still stung like hell.

Jiyong had always been intense when it came to his career, but never—not once—had he spoken to you like that. You had been his best friend for years, his shoulder to lean on when things got too heavy. And yet, the moment you expressed concern, he shoved you away like you were nothing.

Was that really how he saw you? Just some nobody?

You blinked back the fresh sting of tears. No. You refused to let yourself dwell on it anymore. Instead, you did what you always did when life became too much—you threw yourself into work.

Extra shifts, late nights, anything to keep your mind occupied. And it worked… for the most part. But when Saturday rolled around, that familiar ache settled in your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake.

You had never missed one of Jiyong’s home shows. Not once. From his first-ever performance to the biggest sold-out stadiums, you were always there, watching from the V.I.P section, cheering him on. But this time? This time, you weren’t even sure if he wanted you there.

So, you made the decision. You picked up an extra shift at the bar. Saturday nights were always hectic, and if nothing else, at least the tips would be good.

Still, as you got ready for work, your heart ached. It felt wrong not being there.

You glanced at your phone. Zero messages from Jiyong. Nothing. He wasn’t even going to check in. Not even a half-assed apology. Your fingers tightened around your phone, debating one last time if you should reach out.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath before quickly typing out a message.

“I love you, Ji. Good luck at your show tonight.”

Short. Simple. To the point.

You sent it before you could overthink it, shoving your phone into your bag and focusing on finishing your makeup.

-

Meanwhile…

Jiyong sat in the dressing room, his body slumped against the couch. His vision swam as he stared at his phone, your message illuminating the screen. His hands trembled as he gripped the device tighter, reading and rereading your words.

"I love you, Ji."

God, his chest ached.

His head was pounding, his skin slick with sweat despite the AC blasting in the room. He was exhausted—more exhausted than he had ever been in his life. His entire body ached, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement. He had barely eaten in days, barely slept. And now, the crushing weight of knowing you weren’t here—knowing that he had done this, that he had driven you away—was suffocating him.

She should be here, he thought bitterly.

You were always there. Always in the crowd, always waiting for him backstage with a knowing smile and a bottle of water, telling him how proud you were. No matter what, you were there.

But not tonight.

And it was his fault.

“Jiyong, are you okay?”

He barely registered his stylist’s voice until he felt the cool press of her hand against his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” she muttered, concern evident in her tone.

“M’fine…” he mumbled, swatting her hand away weakly.

She frowned but didn’t argue, instead focusing on finishing his hair, even though the strands were already damp from the sweat clinging to his skin. No amount of styling product would keep it in place—not with the way his body was overheating.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to push through the exhaustion. One hour until showtime. Just one more hour.

But even as he tried to rest, the shivering wouldn’t stop.

“Jiyong!”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of Seunghyun and Taeyang’s voices.

“What?!” he snapped, his patience paper-thin.

The two men exchanged a glance before Taeyang took a cautious step forward. “Dude… you don’t look so good.”

Jiyong scoffed, turning onto his side to face the couch. “Fuck off, I’m fine…” His body trembled violently, contradicting his words. “Just leave me alone.”

Seunghyun frowned. “You’re sweating like hell, and you’re shaking, Ji. You seriously think you can get through a full show like this?”

Jiyong gritted his teeth, forcing himself to sit up. “I said I’m fine,” he ground out, even though the room spun around him.

The others weren’t convinced. They had seen Jiyong push himself too far before, but this? This was different. He looked pale—too pale. And the way his shoulders trembled, the way his breaths came out shallow and labored, sent a deep sense of unease through them all.

“We need to tell the manager,” Seunghyun finally said. “If he collapses on stage, it’s gonna be bad.”

Jiyong let out a bitter laugh. “I won’t collapse.”

“Bullshit,” Taeyang muttered. “You can barely sit up.”

The room fell into tense silence before Daesung finally spoke up. “I’m gonna call Y/n.”

Jiyong’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “No,” he croaked, but it was weak, barely a whisper.

“She can help,” Daesung insisted, already pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, good idea,” the others agreed.

Jiyong clenched his jaw, his fists tightening in his lap. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this—to see him so weak, so broken.

But deep down, past all the pride, past all the self-inflicted suffering…

He just wanted you.

Because no matter how badly he fucked up, no matter how much he pushed you away…

You were the one person who could always put him back together.

The moment you stepped away from the bar, you broke into a sprint toward the bathroom, your heart hammering against your ribs. Your phone buzzed relentlessly in your pocket, each vibration sending a fresh wave of anxiety through you. Hands trembling, you yanked it out, eyes widening at the flood of missed calls.

Daesung. Seunghyun. Taeyang.

Something was wrong.

You barely had time to inhale before hitting Daesung’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“Y/n, Jiyong needs you.” His voice was tight, urgent.

Your stomach clenched. “What’s going on? I’m at work.”

“I think it’s a panic attack or something. I don’t know—he won’t let any of us help him. Y/n, please, just come.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching. “I don’t… I don’t think he wants me there, Daesung. We had a fight. He—he said some things…”

“He’s shutting down, Y/n. Our manager is thinking of canceling the show.” His voice cracked, desperation seeping through the line. “You’re his best friend. If anyone can get through to him, it’s you.”

Your fingers dug into the bathroom counter. The things Jiyong had said to you still echoed in your head, sharp and unforgiving. But was that really him talking? Or was it exhaustion twisting his words, pushing him past reason?

He was your person. Your best friend. And right now, he needed you.

“I’m on my way.” You hung up, moving quickly to gather your things, but before you could slip out, your boss caught sight of you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? It’s packed out there—we need you!”

“I’m sorry, sir. Family emergency,” you stammered, throwing your apron onto the counter.

“If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.”

You met his glare, then—without a second thought—flipped him off and stormed through the crowded kitchen to the back door, heart hammering as you reached your car. You tossed your bag onto the passenger seat and peeled out of the parking lot, heading straight for the stadium. The city lights blurred past you, neon signs flickering against the darkening sky.

Your phone rang again. It was Daesung. “Hey, I’m almost there. Where do I go?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’re on the list,” Daesung said. “Just head backstage.”

You barely parked before jumping out of the car, navigating through the maze of security and flashing lights. The walls of the venue were lined with photos of legendary musicians, their eyes seeming to watch you as you ran past. Your pulse thrummed in your ears.

Then you heard Daesung call your name. “Y/n!” Daesung waved you over, his relief evident.

You didn’t waste a second. Following him down the hall, you turned a sharp corner and stepped into the dressing room. The air inside was thick with tension.

Jiyong sat hunched over, his elbows braced on his knees, his face pale and drawn. A paramedic stood beside him, pressing an ice pack to his head, murmuring something you couldn’t hear.

“Ji…” Your voice came out softer than you intended, your heart twisting at the sight of him. “What happened?”

His head lifted at the sound of your voice. His dark eyes met yours, wide and glassy.

Then, as if gravity had yanked him forward, he surged up from the couch and threw himself into your arms. His entire body trembled against you, his grip so tight it nearly stole your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking.

You barely had time to steady yourself before he buried his face in your shoulder. His weight pressed into you, as if you were the only thing holding him up.

“Ji…” you whispered, your hands sliding up his back, fingers threading into his hair. “I’ve got you.”

His breath came in shuddering gasps. “I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have said those things. I should have listened to you—I shouldn’t have pushed myself so hard. I—” His voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I’m just so fucking sorry.”

The others watched silently as he clung to you, their faces a mix of relief and quiet concern.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, rubbing slow circles into his back. “I forgive you.”

His shoulders shook as he let out a quiet sob, the dam finally breaking. The weight of exhaustion, pressure, and regret poured out of him all at once.

“Can you guys give us a minute?” you asked over his shoulder, still holding him.

Daesung nodded, ushering the others out. The paramedic handed you an ice pack and a bottle of water, giving you a small nod before exiting.

Jiyong let you guide him back to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. He wiped at his tear-streaked face, sniffling as you handed him the water. You pressed the ice pack gently to the back of his neck.

“Ji, tell me what happened.”

He took a slow sip, his voice hoarse. “I fucked up, Y/n.” He shook his head. “You were right. I shouldn’t have pushed myself so hard. I—” He exhaled sharply. “I’m exhausted. And then you weren’t here, and I just… I don’t know. I lost it.”

You hesitated. “I didn’t think you wanted me here after what you said to me.”

His gaze snapped up to meet yours, guilt swimming in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it. Not for a second. I was out of my head, Y/n. I’ve been beating myself up over it for days, but I was too ashamed to call.”

Your heart softened. You reached for him, pulling him close and pressing a light kiss to his temple. “I know, Ji.” You stroked his hair gently. “I just worry about you.” A quiet pause. “I love you.”

His breath hitched. “Can you ever forgive me?” he asked, his voice small. His big, innocent eyes searched yours, raw and vulnerable.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a tear from his cheek. “Of course I can. Just don’t ever say some dumb shit like that again.”

A weak smile tugged at his lips. “Cross my heart.”

“Do you feel any better? Do you need to cancel the show?”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand. “You fix everything. You always do. You’re magic like that.” He brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against them.

Shivers ran down your spine.

“Here.” You tugged him down gently. “Lay back. You have forty-five minutes until the show. Rest as much as you can.”

With a deep breath, he let himself relax against the couch, his fingers still loosely curled around yours. You ran a comforting hand through his hair, cooling him down with the ice pack.

-

“How’s he doing?” Taeyang and Seunghyun appeared in the doorway of the dressing room, their faces laced with concern but softened by the sight of Jiyong sitting upright.

“I’m fine,” Jiyong muttered, his voice still a little hoarse. He ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling slowly before flashing them a sheepish smile. “Sorry for being such a prick…”

Taeyang let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “We’re just glad you’re okay, man.”

Seunghyun smirked, glancing between the two of you. “Y/n, I think we need to keep you around more often. Seems like you’re the only one who can get through to him.”

You grinned. “Well, I just lost my job, so I’m free whenever!”

“What?” Jiyong snapped his head toward you so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. His smile faded instantly, replaced by guilt and concern.

You waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, Ji. My boss was a fucking dick anyway. I was gonna quit eventually.”

But Jiyong wasn’t convinced. He looked down, his fingers twisting the hem of his shirt as his jaw clenched. You could see the thoughts racing through his mind—this was his fault. Another thing to add to the weight he carried.

“Hey.” You softened, reaching out and tilting his chin up with your fingers, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “You’re more important, yeah?”

His bottom lip quivered ever so slightly before he muttered, “M’sorry…” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.

Your heart clenched. Without thinking, without hesitation, you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

He froze for half a second, as if his brain was struggling to process what was happening. But then, slowly, he melted into you, his hands coming up to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss.

It was hesitant at first—uncertain, full of unspoken words—but then something shifted. His fingers tightened against your skin, his lips moving with more urgency, more need. Like he had been waiting for this just as long as you had.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you both jolt apart.

“Uh… show time in five,” Seunghyun said, eyes wide with amusement before he and Taeyang practically ran out of the room, leaving you and Jiyong in breathless silence.

As you pulled back just slightly, your noses brushed, his breath warm against your lips. His dark eyes were searching yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“W-what was that for?” he stammered, voice cracking slightly.

You bit your lip, hoping you hadn’t just overstepped everything. “Good luck,” you whispered, offering him a small smile.

Jiyong blinked at you, stunned. Then, to your surprise, his lips curled into a slow, boyish grin before he cupped your face and kissed you again. This time, it wasn’t hesitant—it was filled with silent promises, unspoken confessions, and years of built-up longing neither of you had dared to acknowledge until now.

You smiled against his lips, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“Now go!” you laughed, gently shoving him toward the door. “You don’t wanna miss your first show.”

Jiyong stumbled back slightly, his grin never faltering. As he reached the doorway, he hesitated, his fingers lingering on the frame as he turned to look at you.

“You’ll be here when I get back?” he asked, almost shyly.

Your expression softened. “I’ll always be here, Ji.”

Something in his eyes shifted, like he was silently thanking whatever higher power had brought you into his life. Then, with a final, wide smile, he spun on his heel and took off down the hall, his energy renewed.

From backstage, you watched him take the stage, his presence electrifying the entire stadium. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but all you could focus on was him.

And as he stood under the blinding lights, microphone in hand, he turned his head ever so slightly—just enough to catch a glimpse of you in the shadows.

A private smile ghosted across his lips.

Your stomach flipped.

This was only the beginning of a whole new chapter in your life.

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[justwinginglife]

The LADS Men As Drivers

Caleb

Caleb is a road rager but he’s subtle about it. He’ll squeeze your thigh reassuringly, flash that dazzling smile, and then point to a peculiar cloud in the sky and ask you to guess what he thinks it looks like. He passes it off like it’s just a fun, little road trip game that he wants to play, but really, he’s distracting you so you don’t see him cut off the asshole in the truck and then make the most menacing eye contact with the driver that a human can possibly make as he passes by them. Then he resumes his smiley self shortly after, with you none the wiser. If you somehow manage to discern the slight increase in speed and ask him about it, he’ll simply say he was speeding up to get you a better view of the clouds you were so preciously naming for him. 

He definitely loads the car up with lots of snacks before a big road trip and STILL gets you more snacks whenever he needs to stop at a gas station because he loves spoiling you and stuffing you full. And speaking of gas, it’s a while before he has to load up because he already filled up the car the day before the trip so he was immediately ready to go. He’s excited for any time he can get with you; he’s not going to let a low tank ruin that. 

If the car gets a flat, you can be sure he’s replacing it himself. You’re not lifting a finger. And if the car needs fixing, you best believe he’ll be splayed out beneath it in an instant, examining all its parts with a keen eye, and in no time at all, it’s good as new. Sometimes you fake that your car needs fixing just to see him all greased up with oil, muscles tense as he cranks away with his tools. 

He definitely lets you pick whatever channel you want on the radio. And when you get tired of listening to ads, he passes you his phone and the aux, and reveals he’s already made a playlist for you with all your favorite songs on it. You didn’t even know you had that many songs you liked, but little do you know, every time you even somewhat enjoyed a song, even if you didn’t say you liked it aloud, even if it was just a bop of your head or a swaying of your hips to show you enjoyed it, he’d already saved the song. He can’t have his princess getting bored. Hell, he’s even got all the lyrics to your favorite songs memorized so he can enjoy himself with you. 

On a rare occasion, if he somehow gets into a car accident (in which case it’s definitely the other driver’s fault, not his; dude can pilot a plane, there’s no way he’s fucking up a car ride, and especially not when you’re in it), he’s very respectful and responsible about exchanging information with the other involved party, but inside, he’s slowly seething that they had the audacity to crash into him with you in the car. Don’t they know you’re precious cargo?

************************************************************************

Rafayel

Rafayel is a road rager as well, but unlike Caleb, he has no poker face. Or poker mouth. He’ll go on and on about how “they wouldn’t know what a turn signal was even if it got crammed up their butt” and then he’ll call Thomas to continue whining about it. He probably even has their license plate number to give to Thomas. Thomas has no idea what the fuck he is supposed to do with this information but he has to come up with something to satisfy Raf. 

He’s definitely the type to roast what someone’s car looks like. “Who thought that shade of bright yellow was a good idea on a rusty, tin bucket like that?” “I hope they didn’t pay a lot of money for that custom license plate because then they’d be stupid and broke.” “Do you think their windows are so ridiculously tinted that they can’t see my eyes rolling? Because that’d be a shame.”

He definitely over uses his horn even if he’s in the wrong. He also never thinks he’s in the wrong. If he hits a curb, it’s the curb’s fault for being there. 

He also makes up traffic laws that only apply to him. Like how he’s allowed to go 20 over the speed limit if he’s trying to get a good view of the sunset so he can paint it before it goes down. 

He usually lets you be the passenger princess, but when you do drive, he just gazes at you lovingly, tucking the hair away from your face so you can drive safely. He’ll even sketch the way you look so he can immortalize the picture of you smiling as the sun streams in through the window. If you get bored while you’re driving, he’ll entertain you by telling you stories or by describing the scenery on his side of the window. Sometimes, he’ll even combine the two. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. One day, she went into town and she met an…upside down scarecrow.” 

“An…upside down scarecrow?”

“I think someone’s scarecrow just got blown over in the wind. I thought it’d make for a compelling plot point.”

If the weather is bad, he insists on driving. He knows it stresses you out to drive when you can’t see clearly. If you’re at work and the weather is bad, he’ll pick you up. If he’s away on a trip but he knows you’re driving through a storm, he’ll keep you company on the phone to make sure you get home safe. “Just focus on the sound of my voice. Imagine that there’s a big rainbow waiting for you at the end of this storm. It’ll paint the skies in beautiful, bright colors, and you’ll forget there ever was a storm. Just keep talking to me until it passes. Can you do that for me, cutie? You’re almost home, you can do this. And when I get back, maybe we can go look for whatever is at the end of that rainbow, yeah?”

He teased you the first time you got in his car and kept adjusting the settings on his passenger seat, a little higher up, a little lower down, a little farther back, a little farther forward, until it was just right for you, “What are you, Goldilocks?” But once you decided on the most comfortable position to keep the chair in, he didn’t let anyone mess with it from then on. If Thomas or anyone else got in his car and tried to adjust the settings to their liking, he’d tell them to suffer or get in the backseat. He wants you to rely on him more, he wants to be able to pick you up from work or take you out on spontaneous drives, and he can’t do that if you’re uncomfortable in his car, constantly trying to adjust it to the way it was before. 

************************************************************************

Sylus

Sylus is a fantastic driver. He has to be; he has a million vehicles at his disposal. And sometimes he needs a speedy getaway. 

He definitely knows all the shortcuts and speed traps. And he smoothly weaves in and out of traffic whether he’s on a bike or in a car. He loves when you fall asleep in his passenger seat because he knows it means you trust him to get you home safely and he’s happy he can provide that comfort for you. 

He also travels for work, so he has the traffic laws for multiple countries memorized. Just because he’s not a law-abiding citizen doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to fly under the radar as one, should he wish it. He even knows the languages of the countries he frequents so he can read the street signs with ease and smooth talk his way out of a ticket if a cop decides to pull him over (not that he couldn’t just pay the ticket a million times over in any currency, but he likes to appear unassuming- or as unassuming as one with his height and build can be). He doesn’t draw attention to himself if he doesn’t need to. 

That being said, he does love to speed. It reminds him of flying, with the wind flush against him, and the hum of his bike as calming as the beating of his wings. And now that you’ve begun riding with him, pointing out every mountain and valley and river with nothing less than awe and excitement in your voice at every twist and turn, he’s begun to realize he also loves the way the scenery melts all around him like one, big, oil painting that’s just for his and your viewing as you chase the horizon together. He’s even begun to take the scenic routes more frequently on purpose, just to give you something to smile at. Of course, he’ll deny it if you accuse him of taking the long way just to make you happy. He’ll say something stoic like, “I simply had the time to kill and the means to kill it.” But when you thank him and rest your head on his shoulder as you watch the cherry blossom trees fly by, his heartbeat thunders louder than the motor on his bike. 

Sylus doesn’t see the point -or maybe he just doesn’t really understand- how roadtrip games work, but he shakes his head and gives you a small smile, as he agrees to a million rounds of “I Spy” just because he can’t get enough of the way your eyes light up with glee when you correctly guess what he’s thinking of. Or maybe he’s just amused that such a small thing can bring you such joy. 

Sylus has ONE car that he puts all the stickers you give him on. He can’t very well be driving around town, going to meet his high end associates and business partners, with multiple, doe-eyed crow stickers all over his windows and bumpers, now can he? But he also can’t throw away something you gave him, so what does he do? He deposits them all on one car and uses that car to drive you around, smiling to himself when you’re swinging your feet all cutesy and happy in his passenger seat as you busy yourself examining all the stickers to make sure they’re in tip-top condition. 

************************************************************************

Zayne

Zayne is such a safe driver that you sometimes accuse him of secretly being a grandma in disguise. He won’t start driving until he knows you’re seatbelted and if you jokingly refuse to put the seat belt on yourself, he will do it for you. He’s not leaving the driveway until he knows you’re safe.

Zayne almost always goes the speed limit and on the rare occasion when he does speed, it’s only for emergencies at the hospital; even then, he only just barely goes over the speed limit. Even if he’s in a rush, he’s as careful as can be because he doesn’t want to cause an accident that will land yet another patient in his operating room. And if you’re in the car? He wouldn’t dare speed and risk your life. Plus, he’d be embarrassed if he got a ticket in front of you anyway; you’d never let him live it down. Breaking News: Grandma Zayne got pulled over for going 5 over the speed limit. 

There is one rule that he will break when driving though. He definitely eats while he’s driving, especially if it’s sweets. He tries to save the snacking for red lights and traffic jams, but sometimes the fresh box of pastries on his passenger seat is just too tempting for him to wait any longer. It’s lucky that as a surgeon he’s so proficient with using both hands, because it’s this skill that allows him to eat with one hand and drive with the other. It’s because of this snacking habit of his that he also keeps his car stocked with plenty of napkins and wipes for when he’s finished eating.

Zayne always calculates how much time it’ll take for him to arrive somewhere including a rough estimation of traffic, and he STILL leaves before the time he is supposed to so that he arrives early. He also gives you advice on your commute, calling you when he notices the traffic is heavier than usual to warn you to leave ahead of schedule. 

Zayne almost never carpools on the way to work because he doesn’t know how long he’ll get stuck at the hospital and he doesn’t want you to get stranded, waiting for him to finish. But that only makes the moments where he does get to ride with you all the more enjoyable. He loves the way your nose scrunches up when you’re annoyed that someone cut you off in traffic. He loves the way you cycle restlessly through the radio stations because you can’t decide on one channel. He’s used to chaos at the hospital, but somehow your chaos is comforting. 

He’s not that much of a road rager himself. He might mutter under his breath that someone was being “utterly ridiculous” but he usually keeps his thoughts to himself. It’s only a drive and he doesn’t feel like wasting the energy it would take to lash out at someone, and he certainly doesn’t want to ruin the mood for you. If he gets the chance to have a moment alone with you, even if it’s just the drive to the store, he will take that chance and he won’t waste it. He’ll ask you how your day has been, how work has been, how life has been, all while you’re sitting in traffic together. If anything, he might pray for the traffic to last longer so he can steal another minute more by your side. 

He loves to tease you about which route is faster. If he tells you to go left and you raise your eyebrow at him and decide to go right because you swear you know better, he will chuckle to himself and just wait for the moment when you cuss under your breath after hitting a particularly large patch of traffic that seemingly came out of nowhere. “You know, I also frequent this grocery store. So I believe I am familiar enough with the road to get there.” He says it so simply, but you know he’s having fun with the whole situation. “I suppose if a certain hunter wasn’t so focused on being right, we might’ve avoided this issue altogether.” A hint of smirk plays on his lips and you decide right then and there that he’s buying all the groceries. Smug bastard. 

************************************************************************

Xavier

(There is like one tiny minorly mature not explicit line)

Xavier usually takes public transportation; he prefers it because it allows him to zone out when he wants to and it’s less of a hassle than worrying about gas and repairs. But he’s noticed lately that there are things you want to do and things he wants to take you to that would be much more convenient with a car so he finally ended up buying a car for himself. When he first showed it to you, your eyes lit up like the stars and he knew in an instant that it was the right choice. Of course, once you were actually on the road and he saw you make the same face at someone else’s car, he definitely sulked to himself as he drove. But then you made a comment about what a cool feature his heated seats were and he quickly snapped back, proceeding to show off the other cool features in his car until he was satisfied that you weren’t going to go ogle someone else’s car after this. 

Xavier doesn’t usually road rage if he’s driving by himself. He doesn’t have the energy for it. But if you’re in the car, he will glare guns and daggers at whoever dares to tailgate or cut you off.

When you need to get gas, he’ll get out and pump it for you. Partially because he wants to do something for you and partially because once he saw a man hitting on you at the pump when he went in to buy you snacks and he had to restrain himself from getting in the car and running the guy over. 

Some people keep a change of clothing in the backseat of their car, some people keep snacks, Xavier keeps blankets back there. Ever since he discovered his car is fairly pleasant to sleep in, he has kept the car stocked up in case he decides to wait for you after work or running errands and sneak a quick nap in while he waits. He likes it even more when he gets to pull up to a lake or a park and lay the blanket out for the two of you to cuddle beneath while you enjoy the scenery. He could never do that when he was taking the train. He even got a car with a sunroof so you could both look up at the sky together. 

Xavier also fixes your car for you when you need it fixed. Besides the fact that he doesn’t trust the people at the shop to not scam you for every penny you have, advertising new tires and new windows and new wipers and new filters, he also just somehow happens to have a degree in engineering among all of his other skills and he enjoys taking apart pieces and putting them back together in a more efficient way. He enjoys it even more if it helps you. 

Xavier definitely argues with the GPS even though it can’t hear him. “Really? You want me to take a right here? Even though I could’ve sworn there was no right turn here? Interesting. I don’t recall paying so much for a fault system.”

Xavier definitely gets it on in the backseat, front seat, just all over his car really.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @tbaluver @inkytypewriter

[bambiblake]

Hey,

Could I maybe request a Lottie x reader where they just crashed into the wilderness, and reader can't sleep at all and Lottie has to figure out how to comfort her? <3

Lullaby - lottie matthews x reader

Summary: Lottie helps you get to sleep after the crash

Genre: fluff

Warnings: mentions of the crash, reader has anxiety but yk I’m guessing a lot of ppl would in that situation either way lol

A/n: sorry this is kinda short and not the best it’s my first post here and I haven’t written in a while and I hope I gave the asker what they wanted :)

Hours. it had been merely hours since they had crashed in the woods and you were a mess. you had gotten used to stressful situations but this was on a whole new level.

anxiety filled your body more and more the longer it took for the rescue team to arrive...if they were even coming, that had crossed your mind once or twice but lottie, sweet sweet lottie, had tried her best to calm your nerves

"they're coming for us....and until then i'll be here" she had told you even if she didn't believe it herself, but of course she'd never tell you that

night had come way quicker than any of the group had expected and they laid down for the night, everyone finding a somewhat comfortable spot to sleep, you had curled yourself up on a softer patch of grass and moss near a tree with the tallest yellowjacket not too far from you

lottie could hear your tossing and turning, she could practically feel the anxiety radiating off you and she didn't think she could stand to do nothing about it much longer. the minute she heard a soft cry escape your lips she sat up instantly turning to you

"hay" she whispered out softly as she moved closer to you, gently moving some hair away from your eyes as you look up at her "can...can i help?" she asks

she knew she couldn't ask you what was wrong or if you were ok, those were stupid questions...but she could offer her help and she would. she'd do anything for you.

looking down at you she saw your breath start to calm as you thought about her question, your brain getting too distracted to focus on your discomfort "could you...." you let out a sigh "could you...sing to me, maybe? it's just i'm so used to noise while i sleep and that could-" the dark haired girl interrupts your rambling with a soft smile "i can sing to you"

you give her a small smile in return as you move to lay closer to her, gently placing your head on her chest as her hand subconsciously made its way towards your hair. once the two of you were comfortable you could hear her begin to softly hum the melody of 'Fade into you', a song she often put on when you would hang out

Listening to her pretty humming and the beating of her heart your body seemed to loosen up, your eyes getting heavy as sleep finally started to take you over

after very softly singing about the entire song lottie realized you had fallen asleep, looking down at your now peaceful expression she couldn't help but feel a swell in her heart

she felt pride knowing she was the one to help you, you had helped her so many times with her issues and she felt so useful knowing she seemed to handle their situation better

she didn't know when they were going to be rescued, but she knew she'd be right there to protect you until then.

[thanosscross]

Pretty boy - Kwon Ji-Yong/G-Dragon x reader part 1

Summary: after meeting Y/n for the first time Ji-Yong can’t seem to get you out of his head, while you were in just in awe over how godlike he looked whenever he’d smile at you or give you any type of attention. After meeting each other for a third time at the club, Ji-Yong finally decides to make a move

Warnings: none <3 just Ji-Yong being deathly adorable <333

The first time you ever met Kwon Ji-Yong you were fresh out of the gate twenty years old, you were visiting South Korea for a gig as a dancer for a few concert shows, whenever you bumped into Ji-Yong in the hotel lobby you were both staying in, both of you crashing into each other as you rushed downstairs before the Taxi left with your bags still in the trunk. You thought by his looks he’d scream at you for being clumsy, I mean he looked polished, respectable, and like he had somewhere very very important to be, so why wouldn’t he? But instead he just offered you one of the prettiest smiles you had ever seen before offering his hand to you to help you up. “You need to be careful, Aein, I’d hate for someone as pretty as you to get hurt” he flirted, you were a blushing mess afterwards, quick to pull your hands away as you saw the taxi drive off “damnit!…my clothes” you whispered sadly before looking at Ji-Yong “Listen, I’m so sorry I ran into you but I need to go call the taxi company” you apologized before running up the stairs to your hotel room to let your managers know the situation, after you left, Ji-Yong knew he had to find you again, you acted so unfazed by him compared to him, yea you blushed but most girls wouldn’t of even be able to touch his hand without screaming, and you just, apologized and ran off. You quickly became the only thought that filled Ji-Yong’s mind during rehearsals and shows, always scanning the crowd for you, asking the boys constantly if they saw a woman matching your description, he wouldn’t see you again until he saw you leaving dressed in a long black coat covering what looked like fishnets. You looked panicked as you rushed by him, your gaze catching his for only a few seconds before you were gone again “guys! That was her!” Ji-yong whisper yelled pointing to you as you ran past “didn’t yg tell you no more girls?” Seung Hyun asked teasingly, watching his face glare “no he said no more controversial girls” he argued before moving his head around to get a better view of you, watching as you hurried into the taxi to leave.

As you showed up to your gig you were in awe, staring at the huge arena and stage, this was definitely the biggest gig you’ve taken, no wonder it paid so well. As you listened to the choreographer you noticed a group of guys walk in laughing and pushing a shorter male around, as they entered the room, as they got closer you immediately noticed them as the men from your hotel lobby. You quickly tried to step behind the others to hide yourself, but Ji-Yong had already spotted you, seeking you out almost immediately, playing it off as introducing himself personally to the group of back-up dancers that stood around with you, whenever he got to you though his hand lingered holding yours, taking in every feature of yours before pulling away.

Rehearsals Ji-Yong wasn’t able to focus, always looking towards you anytime he lip sung to the music playing over the speakers “so, for this section of the song, we’re gonna pair each of you up with one of our boys, your job for this song is to compliment them as they sing since they don’t have much choreography.” The choreographer shouted, pulling you all forwards to find the best height differences, as she went down the line you started to feel nervous, the more ladies she paired up, the more it narrowed down you and Ji-Yong. “And finally, Y/n, we’re gonna have you paired together with Ji-Yong, he’ll be center stage so you have to make sure you have face the entire performance, no frowning, pouting anything unless it’s in the choreography, got it?” She lectured, you nodded along with her words walking over to Ji-Yong, you kept your eyes trained on the floor, Dae-Sung and Seung Hyun’s chuckles and squeals not going unnoticed by you as Ji-Yong wrapped his arm around your shoulders “we’ll have fun don’t worry, just let me know if anything is too much, okay beautiful?” He stated, offering you the same sweet smile he did whenever he helped you up, you couldn’t help but stare in awe, he looked so pretty, almost like a fairytale prince or a god. It didn’t take long for you to become shocked at how fast his sweet pretty demeanor changed to dominant and hot during his rehearsals. As you stood next to him for the next song his hand found your hip for his pose “this is okay?” He asked softly, you just nodded offering him a sweet smile “yea, it’s part of the choreography right?” You asked, Ji-Yong wanted to kiss you right there, you soft tone as you innocently asked him questions throughout the rehearsal about the choreography drove him nuts, you were too sweet to be on stage dancing like you. Regardless of your looks you still bent down with Ji-Yong, blushing as you felt his hand press against your lower back keeping you bent down at the waist as he stood back up, smirking as he pulled you up against his chest, swaying your hips together to the chorus of ‘Bae Bae’.

As you pressed your back against his chest you grabbed his free hand holding it in yours as you moved your hands up your body, starting at your hips not stopping until your arms were above your head, hips swinging to the beat of the music before you spun around him, moving back towards your mark single file with the other ladies. Ji-Yong was quick to grab your wrist, pulling you closer to him again “I think it’d be better if I kept her dancing near me as I went?” Ji-yong stated as the music stopped “if that’s what you think is best Ji-Yong, but keep in mind if it fails it’s on you” the woman warned.

After rehearsal you decided to go to a club that was near your hotel, deciding after that experience you needed to get drunk and forget about it, of course the one time you’d travel for a gig one of the band members would start acting attracted to you. As you stood at the bar section of the club you took notice to how many people were there, you weren’t concerned about it though, you had a plan before you ever came here, do your job and have fun while you travel, and you were going to stick with it. As you felt the alcohol wash over you a feeling of confidence washing over you aswell. Moving to the dance floor you focused more on letting the alcohol take over rather than dancing, only noticing an arm around your waist as you danced whenever you heard a very familiar sweet voice “I swear it’s like fate we keep running into each other” was all heard you before the beat dropped to the song that was playing.

Spinning around in your drunken haze you smiled “oh my gosh! Pretty boy! You’re here?” You gasped in shock, placing your hands on his shoulders to stable yourself in order to get a clearer look at the man in front of you. His bright red hair and earrings being a giveaway that he was indeed ‘pretty boy’. “Pretty boy?” He questioned laughing softly, giving you that damn smile that had your heart swooning in awe “yea! I can’t remember your name, so pretty boy!” You giggled, your words slurring together slightly as you spoke, Ji-Yong wasn’t as drunk as you, but he definitely wasn’t sober, far from it, even in his state though he couldn’t get his mind off of you. “It’s G-Dragon, but you can call me Ji-Yong, pretty girl” he smirked, watching as your cheeks heated up slightly, you couldn’t help it, from your hometown there wasn’t anybody that compared to Ji-Yong and his looks, it was absolutely breathtaking, so hearing him confirm that he thought you were pretty made you feel butterflies. “Awww! You think I’m pretty?!” You shouted over the music, he nodded excitedly watching as you hugged him tightly “do you wanna dance with me? It’d be so fun!” You gasped excitedly, Ji-yong couldn’t stop himself from internally awing at your excitement, especially whenever you were so shy to rehearse the choreography with him hours before.

You ended up staying in the club for almost 3 and a half hours, ending up getting a taxi together since you were going to the same place in the end. As you stumbled to the elevator, Ji-yong laughed, catching your hands in his quickly to help you stabilize your balance before you tripped over the small crack where the floor met the elevator. As you rode up together Ji-Yong’s arms were wrapped around you securely “you know..you don’t have to go home yet” he whispered in your ear, swaying you back and forth as you rested your head back against his shoulder, shivering as you felt his breath against your neck “We both have somewhere to be tomorrow morning” you warned, resting your hands over his as you spoke “the same place, what’s the issue?” He asked playfully “you don’t have to, princess, we can always continue another time” he offered sweetly, you sighed feeling torn, you very much wanted to see where it went with Ji-Yong, but you didn’t want to risk getting in trouble or losing your gig, it was a lot of money that you’d be getting once you were finished.

“I don’t know..” you whispered shyly, holding his hands a little tighter as your anxiety started to creep up on you, what if you declining him ruined everything? What if that is the reason you lose the gig? Now you were panicking, trying your best to hide it as you both walked off the elevator together “Princess, don’t feel pressured, We both have rehearsal at the same spot same time” he whispered calmly, taking his index finger and thumb to tilt your head up to meet his gaze “okay?..” he added on, you couldn’t hide the fact you were melting in his touch, you couldn’t help it though, throughout the entire time you had been in South Korea it had been back to back being charmed by Kwon Ji-Yong, and it was starting to make you fall for the man.

You took a deep breath before holding his sides gently “You’re not mad right?” You asked softly, tilting your head, Ji-Yong just raised his eyebrows at you, wanting to pull you into a hug calling you silly for ever thinking he could be mad at you, but he contained himself shockingly “of course not, pretty girl, you have a right to say no, I have no reason to be upset with you, as long as I can see you again” He explained, his hands moving to cup your cheeks “Of course…first thing tomorrow?” You asked hopeful, Ji-yong flashed you the same charming smiling before nodding “of course, I’ll even give you your own personal wake up call if you’d like” he offered playfully, you just nodded, taking him up on the playful offer “you can if you’d like” you smiled sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before rushing off to your bedroom.

Ji-Yong walked back to his room in awe, shutting the door before pressing his back against it sighing “oooooo Ji-Yong! Do you have a crush!?” Dae-Sung gasped excitedly, jumping up on the bed noticing his friends flushed cheeks and in awe expression as he shut the door “shut up! She might hear you!” He whisper shouted before pointing to the wall that was the only thing separating your rooms “she’s next door” he added on before walking over “she’s amazing, absolutely amazing, guys” he muttered before flopping on the bed “we can’t leave until I get her number, please guys!” He begged before Seung Hyun raised an eyebrow in his friends direction “can’t you just find her on instagram? What’s her name?” He asked, causing a feeling of dread wash over Ji-Yong, he was this head over heels for a girl he didn’t couldn’t even remember the name of, he was too busy paying attention to you than what the choreographer was saying whenever she’d say your name.

“It’s Y/nnnnn!” Tae-Yang shouted in a sing song tone as he teased his friend “it’s y/n and she’s Ji-Yong’s new girlfriendddd! He wants to kiss herrrr!” He continued, earning himself a smack in the side from Ji-Yong “y/n..” he repeated back to himself before letting his head fall again, knowing he’d have to talk to you again tomorrow, you were too amazing to leave behind and never see again.

—

…you like? 👀😏 also please bare with me lovelies 😂 I’ve been writing this throughout my shift at work on my phone which is very different for me, so if there are any mistakes please bare with me <333 excited to hear from you lovelies!!

—

Taglist!!

@ag02212023

@onyxmango

[bonus-links]

MY TIME HAS COME please discuss in great detail the GrooZeLink dynamics in prologue part 5. I am so intrigued by the stark differences between this shot:

And this shot:

The scar on triforce. The hiding. Please tell me everything there is to know

this is 4 u groozelinkers

why did i do text bubbles this way. how did anyone read this comic. god bless.

this is essentially Loft Monologues His Feelings The Update. It was very important to me that the audience understands where Loft's head is at from the get-go. and like listen, sometimes u have to have a bestie debrief even if ur bestie is a dormant sword spirit who can't talk to u. if bonus links was a musical this would be Loft's I want song lol

jokes aside I think Loft comes here to talk to Fi a lot. it makes him feel both better and worse

LOFTS FI IMPRESSION i feel like he used to do this a lot and thought it was so funny and every time Fi would be like. objectively that is not what i sound like. also, peep the textbox pattern!

even though Loft has trouble acclimating to life on the surface, it was important to me to show that it's not all like. angst and doom and gloom. But that's kind of the problem right? things are good, and he feels like this anyway. also I did my best to include most of the young adult skyloft npcs, I feel like the older one have mostly stayed up on Skyloft for now. LAKE TRIP!!

this is a direct reference to this shot from the game. this line of dialogue is an important thing to keep in mind. tbh the entire reason this comic exists is bc i thought too hard about the implications of skyward sword— what if you found out your girlfriend was really your god, who had orchestrated your entire life? wouldn't that make everything feel a little strange, even if you love her more than anything? much to think about

I like the scar through the triforce mark as a kind of symbolic gesture, but there's not really any intended meaning behind the two pieces of the triforce is goes through. feel free to interpret it however u like tho lol

AND THIS SHOT my headcanon is that Loft doesn't actually help much with the early building in Faron. It's partially because he can't- he pushes his body to the limit during his quest, and then completely crashes when it's over, and it takes a loooong time to even start recovering. He spends most of the time sleeping.

But it's also partially because he doesn't actually want to move to the surface. He wants to stay on Skyloft. In my mind it's like. he fought really hard to return to a state of normalcy that doesn't exist anymore, and that's hard to come to terms with. This is Zelda and Groose's project, and while he'll go along with it, he's not that enthusiastic about it. It's a source of tension in their relationship. Combined with Zelda often acting as a mouthpiece for the gods, it starts to grate on Loft that this aspect of his future has also apparently been decided.

tldr groozelink love each other a lot but things are definitely not perfect, and especially not right now

this is actually something I intended to get a little bit more into in ch2, but the chapter kind of. wrote itself away from it. every time I tried to include a scene with it, it felt too much like I was forcing characters to have too many heart-to-hearts too early. we'll get there eventually

this is an important update in the grand scheme of things :-) mystery mouseketool etc etc

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

This is so self-inserted but don't mind me

Apparently when i crash out i write lmao

Frank castle is my new love at this point so please send in request! I'm also taking request for bucky barnes and Logan howlett still <3

Frank Castle dealing with you while you study

Frank hates when you overwork yourself, so he started to just observe you.

It started small he would come home at an actual reasonable time for once and you were at the kitchen table working away. The first thing that crosses his mind is Oh shit it must be serious. You warned him when you first started seeing each other that if you were at the kitchen table that meant you had a huge amount of work to do. He's never seen it in action before but now that he's face to face with it...he kind of wishes he was still out working.

NOT THAT HE DOESN'T WANT TO SUPPORT YOU! but at first, you scared the shit out of him with how intense you were working. You had such an angry look on your face, and music was blaring in your headphones, loud enough he could hear the song from where he was standing and loud enough he was concerned for your hearing.

Usually, you raced to him to give him some sort of affection when he got home, now you haven't even lifted your head to meet his eyes. He approached you in the same way he would approach an injured animal.

"Babydoll? Have you been working since you got home?" He cringed at the question as his eyes drift to the clock on the microwave to see that you got home six hours ago. Thankfully his eyes went back to your form in time to see you nod weakly. A harsh sigh tumble past his lips before he could stop himself.

You were fearful that he was going to just close your laptop but instead he walked behind you and opened the fridge. Silently he started to dance around the kitchen and began a quick dinner he knew you'd enjoy and that would help fuel his dolls body.

He does eventually close your laptop, but it is in exchange for a plate of food. Sitting next to you, he eats in near silence as he listens to you rant about your workload and how overwhelmed and unsupported you feel with your college. He nods and gives his short phrases of support that let you know he hasn't tuned you out as he starts to mentally plan a study set up for you.

The following day, you had the day off and had originally planned to just spend the day cooped up in the house working, but Frank had very different plans. He took the entire day off and woke you up with coffee. "I have a few errands to run, sweetheart, nothing crazy, but I was wondering if you could come with me?" He nods along with your protest and mumbles a few I knows before justifying his request. "I know you're drowning in work right now, but you know I don't know everything I need to pick up at the pharmacy and that lady always gives me those dirty looks that you hate...she doesn't do that with you there." He gives his best puppy eyes and squeezes your hips softly to help sway you into agreeing, and he even "agrees" for it to just be the one quick errand.

But...since you're already out might as well get some lunch right? Neither of you had breakfast, and now it's nearly 1. "We need to eat, sweetheart," he says as he pulls into the diners parking lot.

The two of you get home around 3, and you were pissed. He handled the attitude you gave him since he took you out pretty early in the morning, but he was pleased with himself. He knew you got fresh air, some exercise and an actual meal so he backs off for you to work until dinner...which will be at a responsible time he'd be damned if you didn't eat until midnight again.

But this man is a man of observation through and through. He will just wander into the kitchen every few hours to make sure you are still breathing and not having a breakdown. Usually, he is met with you in the same position he left you in the last time he checked in but sometimes there is clear frustration on your face, and those times are when he softly closes the laptop and asks for some attention. "Baby, all I'm asking is 15 minutes. C'mon, how is a 15-minute cuddle break going to kill you?"

He's sneaky. He knows your soft spot for him, and he uses that to his advantage.

And when you are done with all the work and have passed the class, he rewards you in the only way he can, and all of the sudden all the work is worth it when you can hear his soft whispers of praise throughout the night.

[bapeach]

Not an early bird

A bit of a shorter story, hope you guys don't mind! Again, sorry for any mistakes. Let me know what you guys think :p Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Azzi Fudd x female!reader Word count: 1.3k+ Summary: You were not a morning person, unlike your girlfriend, but you suppose mornings aren't so bad when you get to wake up to the love of your life. ------------

If there's one thing people knew about you, it's that you were not a morning person. Your team could attest to that, especially Paige. The blonde still couldn't stop talking about the time you almost gave her a black eye when she tried waking you up to get to the bus on time (it's not your fault, really. Who the hell thinks it's a good idea to wake someone up by jumping on their bed and screaming in their face?). You also know KK wouldn’t dare to wake you up to play games anymore, not after you locked her out of her dorm as a punishment (you still don't know why you had the key to her dorm and she didn't, but you found it best to not question these types of things).

So no, you were not an early bird. Not unless you counted staying up till the crack of dawn playing video games or binge-watching shows. Your girlfriend, Azzi, had tried many times to make you an early riser, though always being unsuccessful. She’d also tried to get you to wake up early once to watch the sunrise with her. You ended up agreeing, seeing as you couldn’t really say no to her, but that resulted in you falling asleep against her not even 2 minutes after getting to the lookout spot. After that she stopped trying, choosing to tease you about your sleeping habits instead.

Currently you were having an amazing dream. You were out on the beach with Azzi, hearing the waves gently crash on the shore. She was wearing her black bikini with a pair of your sunglasses. The ocean was the most beautiful blue, with the shore being a gorgeous white sand. None of that mattered, though. You only had eyes for Azzi. The way her skin shone in the sun, looking softer than ever. The small smile she had on her lips as she leaned back, trying to soak in all the sunbeams. Listening to her mumble about how you two should go out for dinner later, you could barely pay attention. You could only think about how her velvety, calming voice could lull you right to sleep. 

The scene started fading from your mind as you felt yourself waking up. Even with your eyes still closed, you could tell it was early, no sun shining through the curtains yet. You don't get the chance to get upset at the time though, feeling a finger gently tracing the slopes of your face. The trail started on your forehead, going down the side of your face, swiping softly on the skin just below your lips. You feel Azzi's finger climb back up to your forehead, smoothing out your eyebrows before letting her finger slide down your nose. 

While you'd rather never play basketball again than wake up early (Okay, maybe you were being a tiny bit dramatic), you couldn't help but smile a little. I mean, how could you not? Your head resting on Azzi's chest, feeling it go up and down, hearing her soft breathing and her heartbeat like a beautiful song. You breathe in deeply before letting out a contented sigh. You think this might just be heaven. The warmth of Azzi's body heat keeping away the chill that lingers in your room from the cold night. You hear raindrops trickling against the window, the gentle rhythm making you feel even drowsier. As you inhale, you smell the lingering scent of the skin care products your girl used before bed, mixed with the scent so unique to Azzi. The scent that makes you feel more at peace than you've ever been. 

You squeeze her closer to you, wishing you could just sink into her until you become one. "G'morning baby," she whispers, knowing loud noises in the morning overwhelm you. You open your eyes and crane your neck to look at her. You feel your heart skip a beat. You can't believe that this is your life. Waking up to the love of your life as she smiles softly at you, letting you know that no matter what, everything will be okay. You groan a little in response, your voice cracking from not being used for a while. You send her a sleepy grin, crawling up a little so you can put your head in the crook of her neck.

“Did you sleep well?” she mutters, her hand sliding to your neck to play with your baby hairs. “Mhm,” you hum, pressing a kiss to her neck. You grin against her skin as you sense a slight shiver going through her body. “You?” you ask huskily, giving her another squeeze. “Yeah,” she breathes.

While you love your sleep dearly, you’re glad Azzi is an early bird. Being able to just lay in her arms as you wake up with no need to rush to get ready. (Which happens a lot when she doesn’t stay the night). It’s moments like these where you feel like you could conquer the world. You feel like you’ve never felt peace before meeting the brunette, at least not like this. 

As you’re laying there, you’re already trying to find the best ways to convince the smaller girl to stay in bed all day. Who cares if Paige wanted to go to the mall for new shoes or that KK needed to go get Crumbl cookies? You could already imagine it, cuddling with Azzi for a while before she grabs her latest book and starts whispering the words to herself (She swears she doesn’t). She’d be wearing the little reading glasses that you love but she hates because they “make her look like a librarian”. You’d lay next to her with your own book in your hands, or maybe you’d play the game you’d been wanting to play for ages on your switch.

Letting go of the brunette, you roll over to grab your phone from your nightstand. Seeing as it was still dark in your room, you figured it was probably around 9 AM, the rain making the sky gloomier than usual. Your eyes widen as you whip your head back around. “7 AM?!” you rasp, your voice cracking, “What is wrong with you, you insane woman?!”. She giggled at your sudden exclamation and the slight horror in your eyes. The same giggle that usually sounded like music to your ears sounded evil this time instead.

You flop back down on top of her with a huff, your head on her chest as you sling an arm across her stomach and a leg across hers. “Sleep,” you say with a playful frown, closing your eyes again. She chuckles, your head bobbing up and down in jolts as she laughs. “We need to get up soon anyways to go meet the girls,” she says, her grin evident in her voice. “Shhhhhh,” you grumble, “sleeeeep.”. You can feel her smile as you place your hand on her mouth to shut her up. Returning your hand to her waist, you hear her mumble lovingly, “You’re such a grumpy baby in the mornings.”. You don’t pay her any mind however, already being lulled back to sleep as she softly scratches your back. Azzi places a kiss on your forehead as you nuzzle against her chest, trying to get more comfortable. Finally happy with your position and the returned silence, you exhale contently, a small smile on your face as you start drifting off again.

Looking down at you, the younger girl smiles in adoration as she closes her eyes again as well. She supposed you two could sleep in for once. Knowing KK and Paige, they’d be late anyway, Paige taking ages to get ready while KK is probably too busy making TikToks to realize what time it is. So she falls back asleep to your soft snores, feeling safe, wrapped up in your arms. And even as the sun starts peeking through your curtains and the outside world starts waking up, you remain blissfully asleep in your cozy, little cocoon, without a worry in your mind.

[theetherealbloom]

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.  

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work, 

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees. 

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer. 

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand. 

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have. 

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 53. just the two of us (written)

a/n: i have not written in ten years oh my

aside from being lost on the last song of your album, your life has been pretty great.

you and hanni have been talking more. it started with a few calls after the night you both cleared the air, soft check-ins that slowly turned into long conversations stretching past midnight about anything, everything, and nothing. sometimes you'd be fine just listening to the occasional hum or breath that gets caught on facetime, and that's enough for both of you.

occasionally you'd regret staying up past midnight—the groans in the morning and the slight headache always make you second-guess calling so late. but you like exchanging small updates on what's new; you tell her about a song you've been stuck on, and she tells you about an embarassing trainee moment she still hasn't lived down.

(you nearly snort, "you cursed at the evaluator?"

"i wasn't trying to! i just- ugh! i saw her for the next monthly evaluation and it was so... grueling..."

hanni catches your toothy cackle and the way you fall on your bed from how hilarious her story is, which makes her eyes soften. she falters for a moment, not that you notice, but it's a tidal wave in crashing in her heart.

"you're so cute, it's crazy. i'd kill to go back in time and witness you do that again."

"you're the worst person i know."

"sure, pham." you snicker. there it is, that shake of your head through the screen that leaves hanni a little weak. something churns in her stomach and it has her hoping you feel the same way she does.)

you don't even realize how often you've been seeing hanni until yunjin teases you for showing up to hybe under the pretense of "visiting her," when it's obvious your feet are already turning toward newjeans' practice room.

it's become kind of a joke—"how's my name still the excuse when i'm the one getting ten-minute visits?" yunjin grins. you roll your eyes but don't deny it.

you and hanni have a rhythm now. sometimes, she's still in rehearsal when you arrive—her schedule has been quite packed with her upcoming comeback—and you'll wait outside her room with her favorite tea, leaning against the wall while listening to the muffled beat thumping from inside. she'll spot you through the mirror and beam mid-dance, cheeks flushed, waving with one hand while mouthing something like "wait a bit!"

other times, she's already waiting for you after you've blessed yunjin with your ten-minute-long visits. she's usually perched on a bench in the hall with a sly smile, saying, "took you long enough," even though you're the one who texted on my way minutes prior.

once, she grabbed the end of your hoodie as you passed by just to say, "you look really good today," before flashing a smile that takes your breath away momentarily and disappearing around the corner like nothing had happened. it's not difficult for her to leave you standing alone in the halls with your heart skipping a beat and a grin on your face.

it's been a few months, but little moments make it seem like you've known hanni much longer. a brush of her fingers against yours when she hands you her phone. her shoulders bumping into yours as you walk down the corridor, neither of you bothering to move away. a laugh too soft, a glance that lingers a second longer than it should. you haven't labeled anything, not like you would dare to, but the air between you thickens with the tension from what you two are way too scared to admit.

more than friends, less than lovers, and together two people who are too scared to do anything about it.

you're finished with all the communication that was needed to organize a music video shooting, and only one song is left to finish up your album. there's a lot of stress from all the preparation and technical stuff, but it would've been way worse without the daily texts and calls from hanni.

the past month after settling things, you've filmed music videos, tweaked a few songs here and there, and of course tried your best to finish your last track.

hanni has also let you know that she's been pretty stressed herself with preparing for her own comeback. she rambles on about how she's iffy on one song's choreo because it's far from her style, but you make sure to let her know she's going to do great. you two are each other's rock.

after the last day of shooting your title track, you barely make it to your bed before collapsing face-first into the comforter, limbs heavy and sore from the music video shoot (which required much more physical activity than you thought it would).

it's quiet—yujin's been staying with her girlfriend every other day, so it leaves you alone some nights—but the sound of your phone buzzing somewhere in your jacket sleeve breaks the silence. you fish it out, sighing tiredly before you light up at the sight of hanni's name glowing on the screen with a simple: home yet?

you text back a lazy "yeah, just got here," and almost instantly, she calls. you flip the phone on, speaking and drop it beside your head, setting the back of one hand on your forehead as you stare up at the ceiling. you're tired, tired enough to where you can't really budge, but not too (or ever) tired to hear her voice.

she asks how you are, you do the same with all your energy, and there it goes—the conversation flows easily.

"minji knocked off danielle's claw clip by accident during practice today," hanni says, tone warm and amused. "it like, flew across the room! danielle looked so betrayed, she was soooo dramatic, i love her so bad. we laughed for like five minutes straight, i swear my abs were forming."

a tired laugh escaped your lips. "i'm glad you guys had fun."

there's a littel pause, and then hanni's voice softens. "you sound tired."

"yeah... physically," you murmur. your gaze blurs over the ceiling as your mind wanders. "but other than that i'm just..." you train off for a second before adding, "i've been wanting to see you more. not in hallways or between practices when i visit. just—like, you and i. no one else. i think i miss that."

the line goes quiet and you think for a second the call might've dropped. have you said too much? you must be way too tired—

hanni's soft inhale interrupts your spiral. "you can't just say that out of nowhere," hanni says, her voice quieter than usual, laced with surprise.

a sleepy smile tugs at your lips. "sorry, but i do mean it." you exhale slowly, smiling to yourself. "do you think you can sneak out? we don't even have to do anything. i just want to be somewhere else, together."

there's silence again, but not the bad kind. you swear you can hear a smile in her voice when she responds, "if you're asking then... yeah."

it's just five minutes past eleven when you find yourself jogging down the dim sidewalk toward hanni's dorm, hoodie flapping behind you while you hold onto your cap. there wasn't a clear plan, just that you'd be at her place, and here you are.

waiting by her building at this hour felt more peaceful than anything else had in weeks.

she slips out minutes later in a hoodie and slides, the soft sound of her laugh cutting through the silence when she sees you. "you look like you just ran here."

"maybe because i did, idiot." you say, out of breath, matching her smile as you both start to walk down the street side by side.

the convenience store is still open, a small space of flickering fluorescent lights and soft american pop on the radio. you wander in, grabbing a bag of coffee and a cup of ice to put it in, then pay quickly.

"seriously?" hanni raises a brow. "you're gonna dose yourself with caffeine at this hour?"

you shrug, pouring it into the cup without a care. "grandma, it's the only thing keeping me up."

she snorts. "grandma? i'm the one keeping you alive."

"caffeine at night won't kill me, loser."

"maybe i will before it does." she says, earning a snicker from you in response.

eventually, the two of you stumble upon a little playground tucked between apartment buildings, empty except for the creak of the swings and the rustle of tree leaves planted nearby. both of you climb up the platform of the jungle gym, legs dangling, shoulders brushing. it's quiet there, peaceful, with only the slight hum from the city around you.

for a while, you just talk about whatever. work. music. hanni tells you about a weird dream she had the night before about a haunted sink. you tell her about the time you accidentally went live with toothpaste on your chin. you guys both giggle, and it's light, easy. but then the conversation dips to romance in regards to the album you've been working on.

"do you think you'll ever fall in love?" she asks, her voice soft now.

the question hits you like a bullet train. you exhale through your nose, looking up at the sky. "after lauren... i kind of gave up on it for a while, but it was easy to romanticize stuff, especially as an artist." you begin, leaning back more comfortably as you sip on your coffee. "i got tired of believing in it the more that relationship went on, i think."

she hums, barely nodding, but you can feel her listening.

"but..." you tilt your head to look at her. she's already looking at you and the moon casts a slight glow in her eyes. "then this girl came into my life out of nowhere, literally. she's annoyingly good at everything, pretty, genuine, and i think of her all the time now. i don't know... it's hard not to be in love with someone like her." your eyes flicker toward her, catching the soft surprise written across her face. "really hard, actually."

there's a stillness between you and hanni now—not awkward, but delicate.

"what about you?" you ask quietly, eyes on hers as you swallow lightly. "have you ever been in love or anything like that...?"

hanni hums, thoughtful. "i don't think so," she says after a moment. "i never had time to htink about stuff like that. crushes came and went, and they were... nice, i guess. fleeting. but nothing like this." her voice dips softer at the end, barely legible.

you make sure you're not making things up in your head. "nothing like what?"

now you two are staring at each other—your eyes are slightly widened from surprise and hanni's can't decide whether they should stay on your lips or eyes. she turns her head slightly, meeting your gaze in the dim glow of a streetlamp filtered through the trees.

"nothing like how i feel right now," she confesses, "with you."

there's a pause. like the wind holds its breath and the world freezes completely.

"i think about you all the time, even when i try not to. when i'm busy, tired, or when i'm supposed to be focused on something else—you're still there in my mind. and that's never happened before."

you stare at her, heart loud in your chest, loud enough that you swear she must hear it.

"hanni," you shift a little closer, shoulder pushing into hers ever so slightly. "i really like you."

you two gulp simultaneously as your bodies shift to face each other a bit more.

with more certainty, you continue, "i've tried to talk myself out of it a hundred times. told myself it wasn't a good idea, or that you wouldn't feel the same, but..." you exhale, a small laugh escaping in an attempt to calm your pounding heart. "for the past month's there's been nothing on my mind but you. just you. always you."

stillness settles in the gap between you two, the gap that decreases with each second as your faces inch closer.

and then she leans in—slow, hesitant, but sure—and you meet her halfway. the kiss is gentle and cautious as you two test the waters. her lips are warm, soft, and they taste like the strawberry tea she had earlier.

you deepen the kiss and it feels like exhaling after holding your breath too long. it's less careful now, something familiar like you were meant to kiss her like this. her hand settles on your neck just under your jawline and you swear you melt.

she pulls back, but not far. her nose brushes against yours as she settles her other hand on your jawline, her thumb just by your ear. her touch is warm, you'd let her hold you like that for as long as she'd like.

"i've wanted to do that for a while," she whispers.

"me too," you smile, a little dazed. "i like this a lot."

your hand snakes to the back of her neck, pulling her in for another kiss. you feel her smile into you, and you do the exact same.

masterlist ; previous - next

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[chrepsi]

ˇ ⋆ ╱ sugar water - m. sturniolo

highschool!matt x highschool!reader

wc ; 800+

it started with a glance.

not the cliché kind, not the one where your heart drops and violins play in the background. no. it was quieter than that—less fireworks, more like the fizz of a soda can cracked open in a silent room.

matt sturniolo was the kind of boy you noticed without realizing you were noticing him. he was soft-spoken, eyes always flickering like he was halfway between dreaming and listening. he moved like music on low volume, like the hum of a song you forgot you loved.

and i was... me. i blended in. i stayed in the quiet corners of the school hallways, chewing pen caps and pretending to be too busy to care that no one said hi.

we had third period english together. he sat two rows to the left and one ahead. i spent most of that class pretending not to look at him. pretending i didn’t wait for the moments he laughed at something the teacher said, or the rare times he tapped his pencil to the beat of a song only he could hear.

on a tuesday that felt like a thursday, it happened.

he turned around.

"do you get what she’s talking about? this poem?"

i blinked. swallowed. looked down at the page like it could give me the answer.

"sort of," i said. "it’s about... wanting to feel something. even if it hurts."

he looked at me. like, really looked. not with the wide-eyed curiosity most people wore like a mask, but like he could see through the layers. through the silence. through the sugar-water sweetness i tried to coat myself in.

"that makes sense," he said, and turned back around.

i didn't breathe for twenty seconds.

we didn’t talk again for a week. then two. then suddenly, he was waiting for me outside class.

"hey. you like music, right?"

i nodded.

"wanna hear something cool?"

he handed me one earbud, the wire warm from his pocket. i took it. the song was slow, sad, and beautiful. lyrics like diary entries. like things you think but don’t say.

we didn’t speak while it played.

and just like that, i started living for third period. for the moments between bells. for the way our silences didn’t feel awkward, just comfortable.

like sugar melting in warm water.

the first time he made me laugh so hard i cried, we were sitting under the old bleachers, hiding from gym class.

"do you think if i just walk into traffic i can get out of running laps?"

"only if I come with you," i said, and he grinned.

he had that kind of smile. like he didn’t know it could break people. like he didn’t know it was rare.

"deal."

the laughter came in waves, crashing over us until i was clutching my stomach and gasping for air. and he just watched, eyes wide and lit up like i was something worth seeing.

we never labeled it. what we were. we didn’t need to.

there were days we barely talked, days when he sat with his head in his hands and i didn’t ask why. i just sat beside him. let him be quiet.

other days, he showed up at my locker with a piece of candy or a sticky note that said something like, "you looked sad yesterday. here’s a dumb joke to fix that."

i kept every note in a shoebox under my bed.

one day, he asked me what i wanted most.

"to matter," i said, too fast. then i looked away, embarrassed.

he didn’t laugh. didn’t tease. he just nodded slowly.

"you do. even if you don’t always feel it."

and that night, i cried in the shower. not because i was sad. just because someone finally said it.

the cracks started small.

he stopped answering texts. started showing up late. the music in his earbuds got louder. his eyes got quieter.

"are you okay?"

he shrugged. "just tired."

but tired turned into distant. into cold. into gone.

the last time we spoke was under gray skies. i found him behind the school, hands in his pockets, head down.

"you’re pushing me away."

he didn’t argue.

"why?"

"because you see too much. and i can’t handle being seen right now."

i wanted to scream. to shake him. to say i didn't care how broken he felt, that i wanted all of it.

instead, i whispered, "i miss you."

he looked at me, eyes shining. "i miss me too."

and then he walked away.

now, third period is just a class.

i sit in the same seat. i read the same poems. but it all feels like static.

sometimes, i listen to the song he played for me that day. let it wash over me. let it sting.

because sometimes, sugar water still hurts going down.

because sometimes, people leave.

but they don’t disappear.

they echo.

and i still hear him in the quiet.

<3 taglist ; @trevorsgodmother @pr3ttylittleslutt @v4lsturn @wildfluer @delilahsturniolo @courta13 @kisses4chris @chrispycremedonut @chrisspussygang @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @baebadoobee4ever @emely9274 @mvkyis @mattsbug @sturniqloo @mattsleftball @tits4matt @mothstvrnz @joanakaulitz @mialovesyouchris @belle-ee @owenstar @sturnsalcohol @joanakaulitz @cherryystemm @angeliolo @sturkneeohloww

( reply here to be added )

[erwinsvow]

i can see the trio dangerously driving to or from a party. they’re speeding down the empty road, the new future album blasting from the speakers of topper’s jeep. kelce is up front, and reader and rafe are in the back. reader is a bit drunk and rafe is high out of his mind and can’t control his feelings for reader so he starts getting touchy with her, maybe trying to kiss her. since you’re just starting this au out, i’m curious to know how do you think reader would react and if she did kiss him back, how would topper and kelce react?

the last line of coke was a mistake—it made him lose the last bits of his self control. it was clear that he was way too high to drive, even though it seemed like rafe always drove clear-headed or not, so you were assigned babysitting duty in the back.

top was on a rager today, even worse than his usual ones. whenever him and sarah started fighting, he got like this, currently blasting some future song at the highest volume possible, speeding through the streets of kildare. you would be a little scared, except kelce is driving while topper nurses yet another beer in the passenger seat. you're deliciously drunk, still gone from the drinks you had at the party, not a care in the world except making sure rafe doesn't keel over in the back.

you mumble along the words to the song, pretty much engraved in your memory from how often it was played. you don't know how it happens, your fingers just find rafe's hair, brushing it out of his face while he talks to top and kelce in the front, amped up and loud, acting as crazy as you've ever seen him. you giggle, continuing your motions.

topper begins some rant about his girlfriend, or rather, his ex, while rafe locks eyes with you. it's hard to keep eye contact, looking away the second rafe shuts up and focuses on you completely. you're never shy around them but this might be the closest you've gotten.

you feel rafe's hands on your exposed thighs, your tiny skirt ridden up in the seat. his touch feels good, in your drunken state you don't think there's anything wrong with it. he's just being friendly, being touchy, being rafe. he strokes the soft skin of your legs, running his hands down to your ankles, while you shift around in the back. all it would take is one look from the boys in the front to see that something's going on back here.

"rafe, listen to top he's talkin-"

"shh," rafe says, noise completely overlooked by the others, nothing audible except the thump of the bass. he takes your face into his hand, leaning in close. "shut up for a second." he kisses you, briefly, barely, lips touching together and your eyes fluttering shut, when kelce slams on the brakes. the two of you fly apart, your heart thudding for an entirely different reason now.

"what the fuck, kelce, my brakes-" top starts.

"it was a deer, you idiot. you guys okay?" he turns to look at you and rafe in the back, your face flushed and rafe's hands still on your legs.

"fine," rafe mumbles. the four of you head back to tannyhill, you crashing on rafe's bed like always while top and kelce take the guest room down the ball. the two of you are out before you can bring it up, but rafe doesn't forget about it.

in the morning, you stretch, the oversized shirt of his you'd put on for the night riding up. rafe doesn't wait another minute.

"so, about last night. in the car." he looks at you, waiting for your response.

"oh, rafe, don't apologize. it's okay. we were both pretty gone."

"m'not apologizin', i-"

"and i mean, who hasn't been there once or twice-"

"once or twice?"

"and i kissed kelce that one time, so i guess-"

"you kissed kelce?" rafe looks at you like you've committed a crime.

"what? it was new years."

"where the hell was i?"

"i don't know, probably sucking some girl's face off. i was busy making out with kelce, remember?" you laugh, getting up and looking for your clothes. rafe lays back down on the bed, deciding he's never leaving you alone with kelce ever again.