#and when she hugs him he pulls this shit

[musubiki]

perfectly squeezable

[attractthecrows]

man i'd really like for revallen to encounter the ghost of his father but with his skillset it's just not likely

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine logan seeing you again

logan x reader

warning: some deadpool x wolverine spoilers. this takes place after the movie. under 1k words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The apartment was packed jammed with friends and some foes of Wade Wilson. There might have been music playing in the background, but Logan couldn’t tell when his eyes locked with the figure walking through the front door. His heart dropped, he felt sick to his stomach as his eyes fluttered. It had to be a dream but then he quickly came to his senses.

This wasn’t his universe, his world. He was somewhere entirely new. He caught his breath as Wade shouted out an exclamation of joy. Logan watched as he drew up from his seat to greet you with an overzealous hug, pulling you toward the group at the table.  Wade held you rough by the shoulders and grinned. “Look who decided to come out of retirement, conveniently after we,” he pointed to Logan then himself. “Saved the fucking world. Avengers, who? Bunch of assholes, if you ask me.”

“You sound like a man scorn, Wade,” you teased, offering a wave of a hand to your friends. The idiot next to you was right, the whole superhero thing had been a thing of the past. You have been a regular civilian for a few years now and have been loving a more relaxed existence – not being threatened daily was like, nice. “Don’t worry, you’ll see all the details in the movie. Have you meant my little angry beaver, the Wolverine?”

Your head jerked to where the older gentlemen was sitting, and you grinned. “I haven’t had the pleasure. I never met this world’s Logan – we ran in different circles. It’s nice to meet you.”

His heart relaxed and he confidently held out a hand, ignoring the interested glance from Laura. “Nice to meet you.”

“Take a seat next to Logan,” Wade urged, winking over to his new hesitant partner. “I’m sure he can fill you in on all the fun we’ve had together. Tell her about the sex ramp we had in the car that one time.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Logan cursed, telling you to ignore him.

“I usually do,” you laughed, thanking Vanessa for the beer she slid over from her side of the table. Popping it open, you relaxed and asked Logan how this place was treating him. “Must be weird, coming here. It’s like your world, right? Just slightly different?”

“Something like that.”

“Did we know each other back there?”

Your question seemed so invasive and frank – it almost made Logan smile because some people never changed, no matter what universe. Back where he came from, you were such a firecracker little shit. He had his hands full dealing with your bullshit. You were always running towards danger with little regard for your own safety because you had him. He had always been at your side, or at least, trying to catch up but he had always been there for you.

Logan had loved you and you had loved him.

Two reckless mutants.

Then you died and that sent him straight down a barrel of alcohol and indifference, to everyone and everything in his world. Which led to his greatest shame of all, allowing his family to be murdered because he was too busy drinking his sorrows away. He had long forgotten what it felt like to see you smile or hear you laugh, to feel your fingertips on his skin. The weight of your head on his chest as you slept, he never could replicate that feeling and yet, here you were.

A different version of you but God, the same.

“We were friends, really good friends.”

The hint of sadness in his voice was enough for you to understand and maybe not truly, but something had happened. That much was evident and while it might have been silly, you wanted nothing more than to comfort this man next to you. The room seemed to fall quiet, but no one was paying attention, except the girl next to Logan. Your eyes met hers, but she just smiled and looked away. Logan’s eyes were focused on the beer in his hands, but his eyes jerked up when a gentle hand touched the top of his. Your skin ablaze his and it felt wrong to feel like he had once when he didn’t even know you. Not this version of you, a woman he knew nothing about. It didn’t feel right but he wanted nothing more to allow this to go on. To see who you were in this world.

Did he deserve that? After everything that happened.

“Were? I won’t pry but it seems like life has given you a second chance, Logan.” You smiled softly and removed your hand from his, lifting your beer can to him. “You guys saved this world; a second chance is the least the universe can give you. Why not take it?”

Logan chuckled lowly. “The version of you I knew also had a deficiency in reasoning.”

A hard smack landed on his chest, and he laughed, which made you laugh. “Yeah, well, at least I don’t look like that idiot.”

Looking over to where you pointed to Wade, who had decided to show off his hair piece, Logan smirked. “Yeah, that’s fucking terrible.”

The two of you smiled at each other and something clicked in that moment, leaving the both of you quiet until you broke the tension. “To not looking like Wade Wilson.”

Logan clicked his beer against yours and felt a settling in his heart. Maybe he did deserve a second chance, at least, he could start toward earning that second chance. “Amen to that.”

[thepitlanepress]

WE'RE FAMILY, ME AND YOU –

↳ oscar piastri + gf!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: osc being protectiveeee . also he is so fine in that pic. warnings for offhanded comments abt weight and shit like that (if anyone irl is like this towards you i'll personally fight them). idk if this is gonna be super good bc i think my brain stopped working near the end lol but other wise enjoyyy

"please don't hold my horrible family against me, oscar," you say when he pulls into the driveway of your childhood home, the warm lights blaring inside.

"baby, we've been dating for two years, and i've met your family before," oscar smiles picking you hand up and gently squeezing it.

"i know but seriously, they're going to be awful," you groan softly falling back in your seat. "i don't want to do this."

"we'll do it together okay?"

"okay."

the first comment came a few moments after you walked inside: "oh its so good to see you oscar!" your mother and grandmother both come rushing out to greet you.

"and my darling daughter," your mother smiles and gives you a small hug, before pulling back and eyeing you up and down. "you chose quite the dress wow, you can see everything. you'd would almost think it was too small."

you laugh along with the "joke" and only relax slightly when you feel oscar's hand slip into your own, reminding you he's there.

you continue on through the house as your grandma gives oscar a tour, even though he was here about two months ago and literally nothing has changed.

he's polite, and nods along with whatever nonsense spiel she's giving him about a vase that apparently was her great great grandmothers - when you know for a fact she bought it a week ago because she sent your sister an incessant amount of texts about it in the family group chat.

the one you're clearly not apart of.

when you make it to the lounge room, you instantly sit down on the couch pulling oscar down with you, wanting this night to be finished with already. your grandmother enters the room with a platter of snacks, smiling as she puts it down, "now don't eat too much of this sweetie or you won't have room for dinner, or anymore room in that dress."

you don't notice is but oscars demeanour changes then.

he pulls you closer to his side and has one arm tightly wrapped around your waist as he takes a few crackers slipping every second one to you. he leans down whispers in your ear. "eat, i know you haven't today, fuck what linda says."

you smile and slightly relax more into the conversation, especially when your grandad and dad enter the room. both are overjoyed you're here, instantly stealing your boyfriends focus and talking to him about racing and the latest car that your dad bought and wants to fix up.

you were having a slightly better time, well until:

"pumpkin, leave poor oscar alone, you're practically on top of him!" you mother fusses, and you internally flinch at that dumb nickname.

"i wouldn't mind if she were on top of me," oscar mutters and you choke slapping him on the chest as he smirks. it brings a smile to your face the first one of today.

your dad clearly having heard what was said becomes all red and flustered clearing his throat and announcing dinner is ready, while struggling to hide a smile.

–––

dinner is your least favorite moment of the night. from the comments, to the "mothers" purposely pushing plates away from you. oscar notices and instead puts food on his plate and then switches it with yours.

which leads to them tsk-ing about how he needs to eat more and let you choose what you eat.

and you do what any good daughter would do when your mother looks at you and nudges the salad in front of your plate and says, "make sure you eat your salad, pumpkin," you shove it down and paste a smile on your face.

oscar sees it.

"how is work lately, oscar?" your grandmother asks smiling at him, before nudging him in the side with her elbow, "you're doing better than, pumpkin over there i tell you."

shove it down.

oscars hand lands softly on your thigh, silent support in the only way he can right now. you smile softly at him and he winks at you a small smile appearing across his face.

"oh enough you, we don't need all this while eating dinner, well while we eat dinner, you don't really need to," your mother sniffs. you struggle to push this one down and excuse yourself from the table. "i'm sorry oscar, that she wasn't letting you breathe. she needs to learn to give you some space. so clingy that girl."

"i'm breathing perfectly fine," oscar answers entering the conversation his voice calm but strong. "and quite frankly mindy, i think you need to lay off with the comments, i'm fine, your daughters fine, we're all fine, so stop with the snarky comments and the petty bitchy notions. because quite frankly, thats how you're acting, like a bitch."

he shoots a look to your grandmother, "and you too linda, don't go around pretending you're all high and mighty with your "everyone is amazing and i love my family" act, when you can't even treat your own granddaughter right. you two should be ashamed of yourselves. do better. all of you- well except you darren and mike i like you guys."

with that he pushes his chair out and goes to find you, knocking on the bathroom door, but not hearing a response. "sweetheart? you in there?" after a few more moments of silence he enters the room - you're not in there obviously, the window is open and he can hear the car running outside.

he leaves the house without saying goodbye to anyone and just gets in the car with you puts it in reverse and leaves.

you're both quiet for a few moments before you whisper, "i'm sorry for running out."

"no," oscars voice is firm. "don't you ever apologise for that, those women are bitches in a snake skin and they do not deserve your time and attention." he pulls off on the side of the road, cars driving past the only sound that fills the space in the quiet. "don't you ever apologise for being a beautiful, perfect person. don't you ever apologise for being you. because you are perfect."

he takes your face gently in his hands and softly kisses your nose. "you are the most amazing human being ever and i'm glad my heart belongs to you, those pathetic women back there can't see your beauty or your talented-ness or your smarts - you're a race engineer for gods sake - and thats on them." he presses a kiss to both of your cheeks.

"you are my sweetheart, my gorgeous best friend, my everything. and i love you baby," he whispers kindly before pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. "we're a family me and you, we don't need those fuckers back there," he winks.

you giggle and whisper back, "i love you too."

a quiet moment falls over top of you both as you just rest your foreheads pressed against each other.

"takeout?"

"let's go."

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments and reblogs appreciated

[sunni-stuff]

Ghost hates Christmas. It's a lingering reminder of what he doesn't have.

A family, children screaming, guests talking, little hands grabbing and gifts unwrapping.

A home, warm, and snug, fireplace flickering, chestnuts roasting, dinner waiting on the table, a feast, his favorites plated near those he loves.

People who care about him once the mask comes off.

Ghost hates Christmas.

So why does Simon enjoy it?

Why does Simon snort uncontrollably when seeing Price dressed up in that stupidly ugly, itchy rudolph sweater with the glowing nose in the middle while Ghost sits in a corner, glowering at the celebration, his somber mood futile.

Why does Simon lose his shit, grinning from ear to ear as Kyle gets absolutely wasted on eggnog, nearly falling ass first into the fireplace while in the closet, buried deep, Ghost is tucked away from all the festivities.

Why does Simon melt as he sits at the dining table, mouth stuffed full of your fresh creamy mac n cheese, eating like a child starved, practically shoving Johnny out of the way for seconds when he finishes while Ghost lost everything on this day.

Ghost doesn't understand.

How can Simon smile?

How can Simon enjoy this time of year? Does he actually like that shitty knife set Gary got him? They're dull, not even sharpened properly, and wouldn't do any good even in the kitchen. But Simon hugs him, holding the gift close.

The closet door creaking made Ghost go on alert, his eyes darting to see... a child. A child who looks like Simon. She throws the door wide open, shuffling in past him and digging around for a brief moment to pull out her gift. One she hid from her papa this entire time.

A drawing.

Childish scribbles adorn the page, happy pastel colors painting a joyous picture of her and her father together. She closes the closet without sparing Ghost a glance, skipping off excitedly.

How childish, Ghost scoffs, but despite being closed off, he could sense Simon's tears, how grateful he is to be alive despite everything he's been through.

He's alive.

Maybe that's why.

[paarksunghoon]

can you write something with soft dom bestfriend!jake eating out inexperienced!shy!reader after he finds out she’s never done stuff like that before (with lots of praise plz) tyyy

I shied away from the suuuper innocent/shy trope but kept some elements in there

***

“No one’s ever eaten you out before?”

“Jake!”

He throws his hands up like he’s asking an innocent questions. “Hey, I’m not judging you for it! It’s just that…you’ve hooked you with a few people, haven’t you?” Jake watches you hug one of your plushies against your chest.

“Once.” Your cheeks feel warm and you resist the urge to hide your face behind the soft object. “I don’t do it often. You know that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with not hooking up. What happened?”

You can’t meet your best friend’s eye. “He just…finished too soon and didn’t do anything else.”

“That’s deplorable.”

“Tell me about it.”

“He didn’t want to taste you?”

You sigh and lie back down on your mattress, shutting your eyes while keeping the plushie between your arms and pinned against your chest. Jake looks at you and sees your feet planted on the bed as you keep your knees bent. The sleep shorts you’re wearing aren’t nothing new. He’s seen you wear it plenty of times but tonight, it feels a little bit different.

You, on the other hand, don’t feel Jake’s wandering eyes. You’re too mortified talking about this kind of stuff because your best friend is far more experienced with sex than you are. He’s athletic, attractive, and someone who jumped at the chance to sleep around once he started university. You wouldn’t consider yourself someone people naturally gravitate towards and despite knowing Jake since the beginning of middle school, sex is the one topic you struggle to talk about with him.

But Jake, the ever persistent best friend who just wants the best for you, won’t let it go. He rarely pries into your sex life and if you’re talking to anybody because he’s typically the one who’s preoccupied with hookups or casual flings.

It’s currently the peak of spring and it’s starting to get warmer outside. One of your windows is cracked open and amidst your inner turmoil, you hear the crickets chirping outside. You don’t see Jake’s eyes glance over your bare legs and how he gulps when his gaze reaches the shirt you’re wearing that’s riding up to show a small portion of your stomach.

“Not all of us have a lot of experience, okay?!”

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with me.”

“No,” Jake says, pulling the plushy from your arms and throwing it beside him, “but I know you better than you know yourself. I know you compare how many people you’ve slept with to me.”

You evert his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping around.” Your best friend laughs.

“I know. It doesn’t make me happy anymore but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to have sex, Y/N.”

You huff and pull yourself up on your elbows to look at Jake. His annoyingly boyish charms and freshly dyed, dark brown hair make him look like a supermodel underneath your ambient lighting. The room is dimly lit with hues of pink and yellow, and you don’t know if Jake’s looking extra delectable because of the light or because you’ve started to look at him differently.

“Easy for you to say. People want to have sex with you.”

Jake bites back a retort. “I bet people want to have sex with you too.” You roll your eyes.

“If I were a guy, I’ll bet I could stare at a girl and know I’d be getting some.” You hear him laugh but that does nothing to quell your embarrassment. Jake sits up and scoots closer until he’s looking down at you.

“What is it that you really want?”

“Jaeyun.”

“I dunno, maybe if you say it then you’ll manifest it, or some shit.” Jake doesn’t know why but he likes that you can’t make eye contact with him.

“I…”

You finally look at him. He tilts his head and nods once. “Go on.”

“I just…I want someone to make me feel good, okay?”

“That can’t be all you want. There’s gotta be something more.”

“I want a guy to eat me out. Happy?” It’s embarrassing to say out loud. Jake grins.

“Very. Now you’re manifesting this into reality.”

“You’re really weird, Jake.” He laughs.

“So you tell me.” He brings his finger up to your bare knee and traces a random pattern that makes you feel tingly. It’s a new feeling around your best friend and you look at him curiously.

“More guys should eat girls out,” he says, cutting the silence abruptly. “Guys say they’re good at fucking but they never get anyone off.”

You groan. “Everybody sucks. It seems like no guy likes to go down on a girl, or whatever.”

“Some do.”

“You mean to tell me there are some guys who actually like eating a girl out?”

“Yes.” Jake looks down at you and holds your eye. He doesn’t move and you watch as his fingers start to grip the comforter. You speak after a long pause. He doesn’t break eye contact.

“A-Are you saying you like to do that?”

He doesn’t let up the eye contact. “I love it. Could do it forever.”

You gulp. “R-Really?”

Jake nods. “Yeah.”

“What do you like about it?” Your voice, ever so timid and testing the waters, makes him excited.

He licks his lips. “I like the taste the most. Always so nice and wet. Sweet, almost. I like the way it feels too. Makes me think I’m about to die.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“No. I’d be happy if eating pussy was the last thing I did.”

The look he gives you is unlike anything you’ve ever seen from him before. His mouth twitches while he sits in front of you and you’re beside yourself when you rub your legs together. Jake doesn’t make a move to touch you but his steady gaze makes you squirm.

“Are you…offering?”

Jake chuckles. “Would it be bad if I was?” Not really.

“Honestly? Not really…”

“Let me take your shorts off, mkay?”

Jake hooks his fingers around your flimsy sleep shorts and pulls them down slowly as you feel the fabric glide against your inner thighs. The cool air provides an electric shock to your mound and you realize then just how wet you’ve become.

Your best friend opens up your legs to little resistance and finds you too cute when you bunch up your pillows to rest your back against it. He toys with you for a moment, using his thumb to gently brush over your slit while grunting at how wet your panties have become. Jake pulls them aside and is met by the place you need him the most.

“Do you want me to eat your pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” you moan, feeling his warm breath over your wet folds.

Jake doesn’t answer you. Instead, he pushes his head down and spreads his tongue all over you and moans at the first taste. You’re so warm and tense underneath his touch and his hands come to your thighs to keep them pried open but at the same time, Jake rubs his palm all over your skin to soothe your rigidness.

His hands support your legs too, forcing them open when you start to close in. It feels like he’s spreading you apart across the board and looking down at him makes your heart beat even faster. Jake looks so lost in his own pleasure while making you feel good too. His eyes are closed and his lashes kiss his cheeks in a way that makes him look heaven sent.

His tongue feels amazing and this sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. The wet slurping and constant pressure feels like you’re about to burst into a million pieces at any moment and you’re sure you’d become addicted to this if every guy made you feel the way your best friend does.

It should feel weird to have him touching you like this. You’ve only thought about him in the bedroom a handful of times before shaming away these feelings towards your best friend but looking down at him with his eyes closed and tongue pressed so deep inside of you makes your legs shake and toes curl.

You come without a warning and Jake encourages your loud string of moans when he licks you clean, lapping your wetness up like a dog drinking water. Jake’s face is so messy and so wet with your sheen and his spit before he wipes himself with the back of his hand.

He looks up at you before you can get a word out. “Let me do that again.”

[libbyfandom]

Drunk Modern!Mizu with a Breeding Kink

(((Yup. I don't know what to title this short fic other than that. I let the demons win.)))

(((This turned out to have a bit of spice, a bit of fluff, a bit of my sense of humor. I will say it doesn't get smutty smutty but Mizu sure has a mouth on her. And she's determined.)))

You’re shooing Taigen and Akemi out of your apartment with a tipsy giggle at 2 am. Akemi turns and squeezes you in a warm hug. “Good night, doll! See you later!”

Taigen flashes you a peace sign before Akemi leads him, swaying and all, toward their Uber to take them away.

You watch them climb inside the car before closing the door and locking up for the night. You head into the kitchen, picking up the last of the beer bottles and tossing them in the trash.

You head into the living room where you last left Mizu, only to find her sprawled out on the floor with an arm thrown across her eyes. There’s a pink flush across the middle of her face.

“Too much whiskey, sweetheart?” you chuckle as you approach her.

“Fucking Taigen,” she mumbled, trying to angrily growl but it just sounds slurred and tired. “Fucking…drinking contest.”

You crawl over her, sitting on her hips. You do have to move carefully though, you’re just a wee bit unsteady from the amount of alcohol in your own system. “You could’ve just said no,” you hum.

Mizu remains silent. She’s probably telling herself she won’t grace your soft snark with an answer, but it’s actually cause she really doesn’t have a comeback for that.

Her arm lifts slightly higher, and she squints down at you. Her eyes drift to where you’re sitting atop her hips. Her legs shift under you.

She’s… really staring intensely at how you’re sitting on her.

You start to lift yourself up on your knees. “You good? Does it hurt?”

Mizu frowns as your weight leaves her. “No,” she says, and grabs your hips to pull you back down. “...It’s nothing.”

But you know that look. She gets it every time Taigen got under her skin about something.

“Nothing? Like a “just thinking” nothing or a “Taigen pissed in your metaphorical thinking cereal” nothing?”

Mizu’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What?”

You press your hands to Mizu’s chest, bouncing a little for emphasis. “What. Did. He. Saaaaay?”

Your tone and actions were meant to be lighthearted, but something flashes in Mizu’s eyes when you bounce yourself on her hips. Her eyes flash back down to where you’re sitting. Her hands instinctively grab your hips to still your movement. The pink flush across her cheeks and nose seem to darken. “Fuck,” slips out from between her lips. She shakes her head. “S’ just being stupid and gross.”

You noted that little change in her voice. “Like what?”

Her thumbs run over the jut of your hips. “Some girl he hooked up with. Talking about how she had an IUD and let him cum inside.”

You sigh, “Jesus Christ, of course.”

“He’s gross.”

She keeps shifting her hips under you. “Are you sure you don’t need me to get up-?” You start lifting yourself again.

“Stop moving,” she says, and the flush on her cheeks doesn’t die down. She tries to look annoyed, but you can tell the minuscule differences in her expressions. That’s a pout more than a scowl.

You laugh breathlessly. “What’s got you so worked up?” You tap her totally not pouting lip.

She grunts, grumbling a little as her hands massage where they’re gripping your hips.

“Don’t be all huffy with me. Tell me,” you coax with a grin, your own tipsy flush complimenting your wide smile.

She rolls her head back against the carpet and is silent for a minute.

The amount of whiskey currently killing her liver is the only reason her inhibitions are loose enough to say it.

She mumbles something.

“Mizu-“

“I wanna do that.”

Your eyebrows raise into your hairline, lips parting with surprise. You need to clarify just in case you're misunderstanding. “You want to-?”

“I want to cum inside you.”

The raspiness of her voice is even grittier from the whiskey.

Holy shit.

Her irises are darker than normal, the bright blue having more the tint of stormy waters.

And whether it’s the liquid courage or Mizu’s determination to barrel through things to push through her fears, she keeps going.

Her hands are heavy as the slide up your sides. “I want to have something that I can slip inside you-“

Your heart is pounding harder in your chest from her words, her actions, the heat of her frustrated gaze. “You have several strap ons-“ you joke, but your voice is weak and airy.

“I want to feel you from the inside.” She makes a frustrated grunt, “I don’t want plastic. I want to feel you wrapped around something other than my fingers. I want to stretch you out-“

Her palms dig into your stomach. Her blue eyes flick up and meet yours, and you almost fall back away from her with how much unfiltered desire is in them. Her own breath is shallow, you can see how silently but rapidly her chest is rising and falling.

“I want there to be risk that I forget to pull out.”

Holy shIT-

“Mizu-MIZU-!”

Her hips bucked, throwing you higher up her waist with her strength. Your hands fly out to catch yourself, and your fingers hit her shoulders as she’s suddenly sitting up, face inches from yours. She’s supporting your weight in this position, hands and feet flat on the floor as you’re the unsteady one in so many ways. She looks irritated, like when she can’t bend something to her will no matter how much work she pours into it. But she also looks slightly mournful. Genuinely upset.

And very, VERY drunk.

She looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I wanna see it dripping out.”

You gasp loudly as her teeth snap into your neck. It’s not a love bite, it’s possessive. It’s stinging.

But Mizu, being the complex and non one-note person she is, does let go and licks at the reddened skin in apology. “I want to leave myself behind. Inside you.” She nuzzles her nose below your ear, huffing.

Your brain is just on lag, taking several moments to catch up with each of her revealed desires. “And…” you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. “And if you got me knocked up on accident?”

Her arms squeeze tightly around you, burying her face in your shoulder. She’s silent for a heart pounding moment, you can actually FEEL her heart pounding with yours.

Her lips drag along the skin behind your ear. Her voice is low, dark. “Wouldn’t be an accident.”

Someone needs to take whiskey away from this woman. Or give it to her more. You’ll decide if you survive this encounter.

“Mizu-“ you don’t even know how to finish that sentence. You’re just… you don’t even know. You think you hear a faint ringing in your ears.

Her left hand dig into your side, gripping the fabric of your shirt. “Would you keep it?” she asks so softly.

“I-“ your brain is still on that fucking LAG.

Her breathing is slow, shuddering against your ear. “I wouldn’t make you, if you didn’t want to-“ she sounds so pained to say it your heart squeezes. You actually forget for a moment that that’s never gonna be an issue for you two.

Her grip on your shirt relaxes, before curling the fabric between her fingers tighter, clinging to you. “I’d just… beg for you to think about it,” she makes a wounded sound.

You swallow again, throat clicking. You’re becoming aware of a heat low in your abdomen growing warmer and warmer.

She holds you tighter against her, and her hips start rhythmically rolling up against yours like she’s mimicking how far she’d push inside to get what she wants. She’d work so hard for it, putting in all her time and energy and her unwavering determination-

“It’s selfish,” she’s murmuring against your skin, warm lips having traveling down to your neck. “But I’m selfish. I want it. I want it so much. I want to know there’s a little us-“ one hand goes between your bodies, fingertips pressed up under your naval like she’s obsessed. Her voice is strained. “I want to know it’s inside you. They’re inside you. I want to know they’re safe and warm. You’d keep them so warm. You’re always warm-“

You have never, in your life, ever heard Mizu babbling like this.

SHE’S STILL ROLLING HER HIPS UNDER YOU.

You finally grab her face with both hands in a rare moment of clarity to still her, forcing her head up to look at you in this haze of body heat radiating from her, from you, radiating everywhere between your bodies.

“Baby.”

Her head lolls back, looking up at you and oh my god. She is just gone. Her red cheek flush has spread to her whole face. Her lips are wet and parted, breath now audibly heavy. Her eyes, her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes are now a storm. A dark, hot storm.

“Let me put a baby in you, dove,” her voice is strangled, slurred worse than you’ve ever heard as her half lidded eyes gaze at you.

Jesus, she’s bringing out the rare pet nickname she’s so desperate.

And just when you think Mizu is done shocking your system with this new side of her, her expression crumbles into the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Please?”

She’s pleading.

What the fuck was in her whiskey?!

“I’ll-I’ll take care of the two of you. Keep you safe. Just let me- just let me-“ she lifts her hips up under you again, as if trying to tempt you into it. She hiccups. “Just spread your legs and I’ll do all the work.”

With strength she should not have while she’s absolutely smashed, she lunges forward, shoving you to the carpet with your legs spread around her waist. Her hot breath fans over your face, tinted with whiskey. She wets her lips. “Have my baby. Say yes.” Her hips press down into yours again. She whispers your name.

You’re tempted to say yes, despite still being sober enough to remember the logistics of this. She makes a very persuasive case. And it’s not just cause she’s grinding into you like she’s warming up to do it.

"Say yes..."

Click!

You both slowly look up (you more tilting your head back) as the front door opens and Mizu’s roommate Ringo comes in. He freezes in the doorway, seeing Mizu crouched over you in a very interesting position with your legs still spread by her thighs.

She scowls at him. “You said you weren’t coming back tonight!” She sways over you.

Ringo blinks. “Mom has Bingo in the morning,” he says innocently. “… did something happen?”

“She’s pregnant,” Mizu hiccups, before passing out atop you without warning, shoving a strangled noise out of your chest as you yell for Ringo’s help.

“Oh? Congratulations!”

“….Wait…?”

“RINGO HELP!”

In the morning, Mizu drags herself into the living room looking like she was just brought back from the dead, face drained of color and eyes squinting at the light behind her tinted glasses.

“Hi baby,” you greet her softly, cautiously as you watch her head to the kitchen, aiming for the coffee pot.

“Hi,” she groans. “I’m never fucking doing a drinking contest with that bastard again.”

You nod, “That sounds good."

You pause, "Do you remember anything from last night?”

She shrugs as she passes you. “Barely.” She disappears into the kitchen.

“Oh,” you turn toward her retreating back, propping your chin in your hand as you lean against the back of the couch. You wait until she’s out of sight to oh so innocent call out “I wanted to ask about how you were begging to impregnate me.”

Several loud crashes in the kitchen.

[muniimyg]

♡ 02: how you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things

series m.list // taglist

note: ahh !!! thank u all for all the love with pt 1 :) drama begins in pt 3 !!! enj their good moments while it lasts (aka this pt) lmk what u think of their dynamic & if u have any predictions for whats to cum ;) HAHAH mwaaa

also !! happy birthday @jkslvsnella 🌟 thank u for always reading and loving my work 💛

warnings: mean!jk exposes oc (she's a virgin) ,, banter

//

the dim neon lights of the arcade cast a playful glow over the group as they gather by the bar. laughter and overlapping chatter fill the air, but jungkook’s eyes dart toward the entrance, scanning every face that walks in.

he blinks, trying to recenter himself.

why the fuck is he waiting for you?

“do you guys want to play a hoop shoot round?” yoongi suggests, leaning lazily against the counter. “loser buys the next round.”

the guys snicker but agree. without much discussion, they begin heading toward the games, but jungkook lingers behind, hesitating to speak.

there’s a weird feeling that stirs inside him.

he wants to stay and wait for you—wants everyone to stay and wait for you (though he knows how ridiculous that sounds).

his mouth opens, about to call them back, when—

“___!” jimin’s voice cuts through the noise. “over here! great timing!”

jungkook stiffens, tilting his head and clearing his throat as he notices you walking in.

you weave through the scattered crowd, waving casually to the group. your jacket hangs lazily off one shoulder, your hair is slightly windswept, and your lips are parted, like you’re already preparing some half-assed excuse.

“you’re late,” jungkook mutters, his tone sharp as you greet the others with warm hugs and him with a smug smile.

“no shit, mr. know-it-all,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes before awkwardly shifting closer to him for a quick, half-hearted hug.

he doesn’t even unfold his arms, patting your back stiffly—once, twice, three times.

“whatever.”

“didn’t know you took attendance. god, what don’t you do?”

“be late,” he quips, voice clipped.

you scoff, pulling away and swatting his chest. “nerdy of you, but whatever. we all have to accept our flaws one day. acknowledging them is the first step, or so they say.”

“it’s courtesy to show up on time,” he snaps, leaning casually against a nearby pinball machine. his eyes rake over you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s losing patience for. “figured you’d get lost or trip over your own feet.”

“oh, bite me,” you retort, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “maybe find something better to do than waiting for me, hmm? something better to do than—”

before you can finish, a rowdy group stumbles toward the air hockey table behind you, shoving their way through the already cramped space.

jungkook moves without thinking, his hands firm on your waist as he pulls you aside and switches places with you.

“move,” he says bluntly, his grip barely lingering before he steps away again.

you freeze, your words dying in your throat. the touch—the casual way he did it, the way his hands fit so naturally—throws you off. your heart stutters for reasons you can’t quite name.

“what are you—”

“you’re in the way,” he interrupts, already back to leaning against the pinball machine like nothing happened.

“shit, jungkook,” you manage, trying to sound unaffected. “you can’t just move me like that. i almost thought you cared about me.”

“would you rather get knocked into the air hockey table?” he says flatly. “didn’t think so.”

you narrow your eyes at him, brushing past whatever just passed between you.

“fine,” you say with exaggerated calm, stepping away. “thank you… i guess.”

“what was that?”

“i said what i said.”

“say it again.”

“no.”

“don’t make me beg for something i deserve,” he groans, his tone a mix of mock irritation and teasing.

you roll your eyes. “sure… i’ll say it again—for the right price.”

“oh?” his brow lifts, and he’s already following after you. “how much are you charging these days?”

you turn back to glare at him, making a face as he smirks.

what you don’t see, what no one else notices, is how closely jungkook walks behind you as you move through the crowd. his hand hesitates near your waist again before he drops it, settling instead for angling his body, subtly shielding you from the chaos of the arcade.

it’s instinctive, unconscious—a quiet sort of care that he’d never admit to. but it’s just how jungkook is when you aren’t looking.

the air buzzes with the sounds of arcade games—buzzers, dings, and conversation on top of conversation. by now, the group has gravitated towards the hoop-shoot machines, their competitive banter echoing as they took turns missing shots.

when nam joon’s ball bounces dramatically off the rim, nearly taking out jimin, they all collapse into laughter.

"okay, okay!" taehyung claps his hands. "before anyone gets concussed, let's take a group photo!"

everyone gathers in front of the machines, huddling close together. you find yourself standing beside jungkook, his towering figure crowding your space as the guys shuffle to fit into the frame.

“move in,” jin calls out, holding up his phone. “no dead space.”

before you can step away, taehyung and yoongi each grab one of your shoulders, pushing you into jungkook’s side. his arm brushes yours, and when you glance up, he’s already rolling his eyes.

"stop squirming," he mutters.

"stop breathing down my neck," you bite back, earning a stifled laugh from yoongi.

“not my fault you’re short as fuck.”

“what about me do you not have a problem with, nerd?”

just as jungkook is about to tell you off, hobi hits his stomach and hisses at him. 

“shut the fuck up, smile, and—”

hobi bumps his hip with jungkook’s, causing him to lean closer to you. your head tilts and so does his. he clears his throat as he regains his balance. you continue to smile, pretending not to notice him looking at you. 

as the group poses, jin snaps several photos before pulling the phone down to review the shots. as everyone leans in to check the screen, a chorus of teasing begins.

"aw, look at that!" taehyung says, his grin spreading like wildfire as he leans closer to the phone screen. "this is a moment for the scrapbook. you two look so cute together."

the corner of jimin’s mouth twitches as he leans over taehyung’s shoulder, squinting at the photo before letting out a dramatic gasp.

“wait, is this… is this our it couple debuting right here? how did we miss this? it’s always those fucking enemies to lovers stories that hit… this could be it. oh my god!"

yoongi, not one to miss a beat, smirks from the side. 

“don't need to start. pretty sure the fanbase already exists.”

jin snorts. “don’t expose our late night conversations, bro. that’s our special bonding time.”

yoongi hisses at jin, smacking the back of his head for saying it so weird. 

"someone call dispatch," nam joon adds, cackling. "they're going viral as we speak."

"you’re joking,” you groan, face already warming as the guys snicker. “stop acting like it’s some movie poster. it’s just a group picture and—look at that! jungkook is looking at me like i’m stinky.”

“you are stinky.” jungkook scoffs.

you shove him playfully. “shut up.”

“oh no, it’s definitely poster-worthy,” jimin chimes in, nudging jungkook’s arm as he grins like a proud parent. "you can practically feel the sparks flying. jungkook’s over there pretending to hate it, but look at his hand. hovering like it’s meant to be."

"right?” hobi quips. “look at the way he’s leaning into her—”

jungkook glares. “hyung, you pushed me—”

“—bro’s living the rom-com life and doesn’t even know it.” hobi finishes. 

"yeah," yoongi deadpans, his lip curling in a mock-serious expression as he gestures vaguely at the photo. "what trope are you guys?”

"trope?" you snort, shooting a glance at Jungkook. “that’s going too far. i can’t be associated with him to that point. even angels like me have limits..”

"awh, don't ruin it," jimin teases. “you two look like you were made to stand next to each other. it’s fate, ___.”

"fate?" jungkook finally chimes in, his brow quirking as he scoffs. “more like bad luck. uglyass picture, by the way. jump-scare. trigger-warning. photoshop her out, please.”

his words are sharp, but the teasing rolls on, taehyung clapping jungkook on the back as he leans in closer. 

“don’t fight it, man. just admit it—you’re glowing.”

“you’re drunk.” jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms.

but even as he tries to brush it off, you catch the way his jaw ticks, the way his ears turn a faint shade of red. it almost makes you want to keep the teasing going.

almost.

you stretch over and take a proper look. 

your shoulders are pressed against jungkook’s, his hand awkwardly hovering near your back as if unsure where to put it. it’s ridiculous, but you decide to lean into the joke.

“awh,” you say, nudging him with a smirk. “wait. we do look cute together. look at you—nerdy boy finally getting close to the pretty girl. must be the highlight of your life.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might just let it slide. But then, his eyes narrow, and the smugness in his tone cuts deeper than you expect.

“yeah?” he says, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “because the pretty girl who’s still a virgin at twenty-four is such a catch, right? must be fun carrying the weight of no guy ever wanting that kind of pressure.”

the air stills.

“what?” jungkook asks, unsure of why everyone’s mood suddenly shifted. “guys, we don’t need to hold ___’s hand for this. her situationships aren’t real. no guy wants her and it’s because of all her fucking issues… so don’t tease me about shit like that. why would i want her? she’s too fucked up.”

your heart sinks as the laughter dies around you, the guys exchanging awkward glances. you force a tight smile, shrugging as if the jab didn’t just land in the worst way possible.

“ha… ha… yeah. sure. what he said,” you mutter, slipping out of the group without looking back.

you weave through the crowd, the din of the arcade becoming background noise to the rush of your thoughts. yoongi and nam joon sigh and excuse themselves to follow you. 

“fuck,” taehyung groans at jungkook. “for a nerd, you aren’t that smart."

jungkook throws his head back.

"okay, fine. i went too far."

taehyung forces a laugh and pats jungkook's shoulder. "i just... i don't why do you always shit the bed when it comes to ___. would it kill you consider her feelings once in a while?"

"she started it—"

"we started it," taehyung corrects him. "you fuck it up and then we have to fix it. why can't we start it and you figure it out?"

"what's there to figure out?"

taehyung sighs.

"seriously, what's there to figure out?" jungkook repeats, his voice rough with frustration, though there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.

taehyung runs a hand through his hair like he’s had this conversation a million times before. “you overthink everything, man. just… talk to her. it’s not that hard.”

jungkook scoffs. "i talk to her."

"yeah right," taehyung shoots back, now leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull. is it that hard to show that you care for her? even just a little bit? you can even fake it for all we care... just... stop doing this. stop fucking it up."

jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but then he just...

doesn’t.

he falls silent, his gaze drifting over to where you’re standing, still laughing with yoongi, oblivious to the conversation happening behind her. his expression softens for a moment, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his shoulders.

“... i don’t know what to say to her,” jungkook mutters after a long pause, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

taehyung rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a teasing edge again.

"i'm not asking you to be perfect," taehyung says, his tone suddenly serious. "i just want you to try.”

jungkook's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue.

he knows taehyung’s right.

and the idea of trying—really trying—is both terrifying and somehow comforting. it’s just a matter of taking the first step.

"alright, alright. i get it." jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. "but if i mess it up again…"

“you will,” taehyung says with a grin, smacking him on the back. “and when you do, we’ll be here to clean up your mess.”

jungkook groans. "great. thanks. god, you guys are impossible."

taehyung just laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"that’s what friends are for."

“that one’s cute,” you say softly, pointing to a pastel plushie trapped inside the glass case. “but aren’t these things rigged?” 

yoongi glances at the plushie, then back at you, offering a faint smile. “hello kitty? can’t you just buy it in store?”

“it’s different.”

“how so?”

“winning it is better. means more.”

he laughs at you. ruffling your hair, he asks; “think you can win it?”

“probably not,” you admit with a dry laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “i suck at these things.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook has followed, lingering a few steps behind. 

he watches quietly as you and yoongi chat, his arms folded across his chest, his usual cocky posture softened just enough to give off a more contemplative vibe. his gaze shifts to the hello kitty plushie you pointed out, taking in every detail—the soft pastel fabric, the little bow. 

his jaw tightens.

for a second, he looks almost… distant. something flickers across his face—a mix of regret, maybe? or determination? it’s hard to tell, and he’s quick to push the thought aside. he can’t figure out why this damn hello kitty plushie is bothering him, but it does.

his hands shift in his pockets, fingers brushing against the cool edges of his arcade card. the sound of you and yoongi laughing lightly as you move on to a different machine pulls him out of his trance. 

he’s still standing there, staring at the claw machine, his mind reeling.

get it together, he tells himself. it's a stupid fucking hello kitty plushie.

but as the two of you move further away, jungkook finds his feet taking him toward the claw machine. his body moves on its own, a subtle, almost unconscious determination settling into his posture. he steps up to the machine, his heart thumping a little louder than usual.

with a quick flick of his wrist, he taps the arcade card to the screen, paying for a round. The soft beep of the machine filling the air is oddly satisfying. he glances at the claw, watches it shift slightly in the plastic case, and his mind sharpens. the whole world narrows down to this one moment—the claw, the plushie, and the stupid, ridiculous thought that maybe, just maybe, it would mean something.

he leans in a little closer to the machine, his focus narrowing as his fingers hover just over the controls. his chest tightens, just a little.

but there’s something about this—about trying—that feels...

new.

almost like he's playing for something that’s not just a game.

as the arcade starts to empty out, the night comes to an end.

the group begins to break into separate plans. some were heading out for more drinks, the usual late-night crowd craving more chaos, while others, like you and jungkook, were heading home. yoongi, standing beside you both, clapped jungkook on the shoulder and offered a casual “see you later,” his eyes lingering a moment too long on the tension that still hung between you two.

by now, jungkook had tried to apologize multiple times throughout the night. too many times to count—but each time, you’d brushed him off, walking away before he could finish his words.

it was the same pattern that had played out earlier, with him following close behind, trying to make up for whatever had gone wrong, but you’d always managed to slip out of his reach, words left unsaid and apologies unacknowledged.

as you stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of neon signs casting faint colors over the sidewalk, you took a deep breath. the cool wind ruffled your hair, and you tucked a stray strand behind your ear, eyes darting to the ground, avoiding jungkook’s gaze.

“my hinge crush of the week wants to meet up… so, bye!” jimin called out, adjusting his jacket as he moved toward the waiting uber.

the others offered their farewells, the air filled with laughs and promises to meet again soon.

jungkook is quiet, his eyes still on you, a knot of frustration building in his stomach.

as you’re about to turn away, he finally speaks. his voice is soft but firm.

“can i drive you home?”

you don’t even look at him, a slight shake of your head as you took a step back.

“i’m good. thanks for the offer.”

he takes a slow step forward, determination flashing in his eyes.

“shit, ___. come on, don’t be like that. it’s late. i’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“i’m fine,” you reassure him again, taking another step away. “they’re all gone. you can stop pretending you care—w-whoa—“

but as you turn to leave, the way you step gets caught on a loose patch of pavement, and before you can stop yourself, you stumble forward. your heart lurches in your chest as your body lurches toward the ground. 

but a strong and steady hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“fuck, watch your step—” jungkook mutters, his voice lower now, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place in it. his grip tightened just enough to keep you from stumbling again.

you freeze for a second, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your side, his body warm against yours. the shock of his touch sent a strange shiver down your spine, but before you could react, his voice comes again, this time with a soft but unmistakable smirk.

“you’re all out of choices now.”

his words hang in the air as he takes your waist, gently but firmly guiding you toward his car. the playful edge in his voice made your stomach flip.

he doesn’t wait for a response.

he pulls you closer as you walk together. 

you want to pull away. 

you want to protest, but something about the way he holds you—steady, unwavering—makes it impossible to do anything but follow. 

so, you give in. 

you slide into the passenger seat of jungkook’s car, the leather cold against your legs as you settle in. the familiar scent of his cologne fills the small space, mixing with the faint scent of his car’s interior. before you can even close the door, jungkook is already moving to the driver’s side, slipping in next to you with practiced ease.

he turns the key, the engine rumbling to life, and immediately, he leans over to help you with your seatbelt. his hand brushes against yours, sending a strange flutter through your chest as his fingers fumble with the latch, and you try not to think too much about how gentle his touch is.

“thanks,” you mumble, turning your head toward the window, avoiding his gaze. 

the tension between you two still lingers, thick and heavy, but neither of you says anything, and soon the quiet hum of the engine fills the air instead.

the drive starts out like most others, the city lights blinking past the windows as jungkook takes a turn, his hands steady on the wheel. but then, as the cool night air seeps in through the slightly cracked window, you suddenly feel the chill of the evening air hit your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

you don’t even have to say anything. without a word, jungkook pulls off his jacket, glancing over at you. 

“you cold?” he asks, his voice low, almost concerned, but his eyes are still focused on the road.

before you can respond, his white jacket is draped over your shoulders like a blanket. 

it’s warm, soft—still holding the faint trace of his warmth—and for a moment, you find yourself frozen, not sure whether you should pull it off or accept the comfort. but it’s his gesture, the way he’s silently taking care of you, and the faint thought that maybe he’s not such an ass after all, that makes you just pull the jacket tighter around yourself, not saying anything.

the silence stretches on, with only the sound of his car’s engine and the soft tunes filling the air, low music that drowns out everything else.

it’s a little uncomfortable. 

a little too close. 

and yet, somehow, you don’t mind it.

minutes pass, and you can’t help but notice how the buildings are getting fewer, how the city streets are slipping behind, and suddenly, it hits you—he’s not turning into your neighborhood.

“wait,” you finally speak up, your voice sounding strangely foreign in the quiet car. “you just passed my place.”

he doesn’t even glance over at you, just keeps driving, his eyes focused on the road ahead. 

“i know.”

“then where are you going?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but a flicker of annoyance laces your tone. “jungkook, what the hell?”

“the only way for you to talk to me,” he says, his voice calm but with a touch of something else beneath it. 

something you can’t quite place.

“what?” you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “this is considered kidnapping.”

jungkook chuckles, the sound low and almost playful.

“only way for you to talk to me, like i said.”

you narrow your eyes at him, a mix of frustration and something else building inside you. 

“you’re seriously driving me around for what, exactly? to waste gas? to waste your time?”

“to wait for you.”

“oh my god,” you stress. “you and your fucking words.”

he smirks. “are they working?”

you gulp. 

“come on, ___. act like a bitch all night, i don’t care… but you’re gonna talk to me.”

you’re quiet for a moment, staring out the window, watching the city blur past. the absurdity of the situation sinks in, but it’s also hard to ignore the fact that you’re starting to feel a strange sense of... comfort in his presence.

“fine,” you finally say, voice quiet but sharp. “what do you want me to say, huh? you’ve been apologizing all night and i’ve been brushing you off. you said what you said. it’s done.”

jungkook shifts in his seat, and for the first time, you notice how his grip tightens on the wheel, how his jaw clenches ever so slightly. 

“keep talking.”

“i’m done.”

“no,” he insists. “i don’t care what you say… i just need you to talk to me, ___. that’s all.”

you don’t respond right away, not sure how to react to that admission, or if it’s even true. but the way his words hang in the air, the sincerity behind them, makes you want to crack open. 

makes you want to say something—anything—but the walls are still up.

“do you want me to fuck you or something?” 

your eyes widen and your throat goes dry. 

what the fuck did he just say?

“excuse me?” 

jungkook then pulls over, parking his car at some random street. his car lights and the lamppost nearby are the only light sources… but that doesn’t stop you from knowing how close he is to you. you don’t need much light—you feel it. you feel his presence. 

“is that why your panties are in a twist? you need dick or something? you’ve been acting weird since you overheard me fucking—”

“i don’t want to know her name.” 

jungkook blinks at you. 

“... so you are bothered by her.”

you pause. 

“n-no. no, i’m not. it’s just… weird. i don’t want to know because i don’t want to know.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “can i know something then?”

you hesitate. 

“do you forgive me yet? i… i fucked up. i’m sorry, __. seriously. that wasn’t cool of me.” 

you take a breath in. 

“i forgive you,” you admit. “but be honest with me. did you mean it?”

jungkook shakes his head profusely. 

“no,” he confesses. “no, i didn’t mean it. i think it’s cute that you’re a virgin—”

“stop!” you cry, throwing your hands to cover your face. “shut up.”

he laughs, finding your panic a little cute. 

“what? you never get horny?” 

you drop your hands, completely dumbfounded at how this conversation has unfolded in a matter of minutes. 

“i do,” you tell him. 

“with what? with who?” 

you tilt your head and squint at him. 

“curious?”

“disgusted, actually.” he mocks you. 

you can’t help but let out a laugh.  

then, a silence falls upon you two. 

but… it’s an okay kind. the kind where you two aren’t mad at each other and everything is truly lighthearted. it’s a rare kind of atmosphere for you two share. 

the tension that had once been suffocating now feels more like a slow burn, simmering quietly in the space between you. it’s strange, this shift. but it’s also... comforting.

in a way, it’s like stepping onto solid ground after floating in the middle of an ocean for too long.

you glance over at jungkook, his profile soft in the dim light from the streetlamps. his fingers are gripping the steering wheel lightly, his knuckles slightly pale, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded too. he’s not saying anything, but his presence is loud. in some ways, that’s all you need. 

that he’s here. 

that you’re both here, together, after all the back and forth, all the words exchanged, the small cracks and the moments of silence.

the question comes out before you can stop it, and you almost want to take it back the second it leaves your mouth. 

but you’re already committed. 

"think i could do it?" you say, voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable than you meant.

jungkook shifts in his seat slightly, his eyes flicking toward you.

“do what?"

"get you to want me?"

for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. 

jungkook is quiet for a long time, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. it’s like he’s weighing the question, figuring out if you mean it. if it’s just some fleeting thought, or if you’re really standing here, raw and honest, in the middle of it all.

and then he speaks, his voice low but steady, a hint of something in it that you can’t quite place.

“why would you want that?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. but then you think about it, really think about it. 

"i don’t know."

the vulnerability is almost too much, too raw. 

it feels like every inch of you is laid bare, exposed in a way you weren’t sure you could handle. you stare at your hands, anything to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but it’s there, lingering in the quiet air between you. it fills the space, like you can feel every word left unsaid pressing against your chest.

jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, the silence stretching long enough that you start to wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. maybe you pushed too far, too fast.

but then, he speaks.

"wanna find out?"

his voice is low, almost teasing, but there's something else there too—something that makes your heart skip a beat. 

you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his again, and you realize in that moment that this is where it all comes together. the question, the hesitation, the rawness of it all. 

he’s not pulling away, not like you expected.

he’s waiting…

for you.

[emmyrosee]

Imagine having a kid with Sukuna and him urging you to have a day out after giving birth and taking care of the baby so you can have a fun stress free day with friends, and then him having a daddy daughter date. I thought it’s cute 🥰

oh… oh you KNOW HOW I FEEEEEEEEL ABOUT A DAD!AU (bro this got so long im sO SORRY-)

———

“Okay, there’s three bottles of milk in the fridge.”

“Okay.”

“And her melts are in the cabinet!”

“I know, I live here too.”

“Oh! And her stuffed lamb is her favorite to nap with-“

“Babe,” Sukuna laughs, wrapping an arm around you. In his other arm, Akiara is held securely, with an arm under her thighs to keep her perched against his chest, the pacifier in her mouth bouncing as she rattles a small toy in her hands. “I got this. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but if you need me, call me.”

“I’m not going to call you. Go have fun,” he encourages. Deep down, he knows you’re terrified to leave the baby with anyone for more than 15 minutes, always keeping her in close proximity and within earshot. The farthest you’ve gone is to shower while Sukuna indulges with tummy time, and it seems that every time, you’re surprised the house hasn’t crumbled in the brief period.

But Akiara is five months now. And your friends begged you to come shopping with them, missing you from outings with the group. Sukuna knows you trust him implicitly, but your separation anxiety is physically felt in the air this point. He pulls you in for a hug and presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “go. If the house catches on fire, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I can handle a few hours with my own spawn.” You tense slightly, and he offers you a stern look, “do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, but-“

“Then let me take care of everything. Go.”

You offer him a shaky sigh and make your way over to Akiara in his arms, “mommy loves you so much, okay?” You whisper. She babbles and grabs your hair, and Sukuna can see the nervous tears welling up. “I’ll be home in two hours tops.”

“Don’t time yourself,” he chuckles. “Go with your girlfriends. I gave you the credit card, go buy some clothes, or a necklace, or those expensive ass pastries you love so much.” Then, he nods his head towards the door, “scram. Before you cry your mascara off.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Okay-“ you blow them both a few kisses as you slowly make your way to the door, “I love you both so much. Behave. Oh, and nap time is at 1:30-“

“Babe. Go,” he snickers. He watches as you open the door and walk backwards out, your eyes focused on the two of them until the door shuts fully, keeping you outside and them on the inside. Sukuna sighs in relief and he adjusts Akiara to be held arms length, “you, stinky girl, need a bath,” he hums, and when the little girl coos, he brings her tiny body up to his mouth to playfully bite her chubby belly, hiccupy laughter filling the air briefly before he pulls a face of disgust and holds her back out. “Yeah. You stink. Like a lot.”

Sukuna wastes no time in setting up her bathtub and cleansing the tiny child with her soaps, letting her splash the warm water for some time until she reaches up for him. He barely gets her out of the tub and into a towel before his phone buzzes wildly. He sighs and answers it, “do I have to block your number?”

“No!” You whine. “I just wanted to see how things were going. I just got to the restaurant, wanted to make sure everything was okay before I ate.”

“Well the dog got out, I broke a vase and our kid went to college, so not great,” he says flatly, and when you huff in annoyance, and smirks, “everything is fine. She just had a bath, I’m trying to dry her off, and then we’re going to watch some of those dancing fruits she likes so much. Goodbye.”

“Wait- you bathed her before you fed her?” You ask.

He pulls his mouth into a straight line, “yes. Because she smelt like shit fart-“

“Sukuna!” You snap.

“If I have to bathe her again, I will. It’s not the end of the world,” he tries to soothe. When you click your tongue he chuckles again. “Okay. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” you say, ending the phone call. He pockets the device and looks down at his child. “Shes your mother alright,” he says. His daughter merely babbles and chews on her fingers. He gets her settled into a clean diaper before hoisting her back and onto his hip, making his way to the living room, resting her on his massive stomach and clicking on the TV for some entertainment. There’s a baseball game on, surely you won’t mind if he indulges while his baby lays on his chest.

The colors are good stimulation.

“Who you got money on?” He asks Akiara, who blinks eyes like yours up at him. When she smiles a gummy smile, he shrugs, “I don’t know. They’ve got a really good pitcher.” His thick fingers gently stroke up and down her spine, so gently and warm that he feels Akiara’s breathing slowly even out, his little girl falling asleep on his chest. He winces, he knows you’re not going to be thrilled about an early nap time, but who the hell is he to wake a sleeping baby?

A sleeping baby who sleeps for hours. You’re going to be pissed at him.

By the time the game is over, Akiara is still fast asleep on his chest, tiny hands balled into fists as her long lashes lay on her cheeks. Sukuna’s gotta give you credit, you haven’t called or texted since her bath, and now it’s well into four hours since you’ve left and you’re still out with your friends. He’s proud of you.

He’s not sure how long in total Akiara was sleeping for, but not long after the game, she slowly twitches awake, eyes fluttering open before fixating on him. He watches fondly as her body slowly wakes up, starting with her sleepy eyes that blink open, followed by her mouth which opens to let out the smallest yawn.

“Good morning, sleepy girl,” he hums, gently cradling the back of her head. “Was that a good nap?” Akiara merely thunks her head back against his chest in response. He kisses her head softly before standing up, shuffling to the kitchen to grab one of the prepared bottles from the fridge. He pops it in her mouth, where her tiny fists assist him in holding it. The child drinks the milk happily, wide eyes blinking as she downs the beverage hungrily. He smirks, “definitely my kid.”

With that, you come home.

He can tell by the jingling of keys you’re trying to hurry in as fast as possible, and he snickers at your struggle. Once the door finally creaks open, you haul your bags into the home and kick the door shut, smiling as your eyes land on your little family. “Hey you.”

“What’s up?” He hums, kissing you as you get close. “How was it?”

“It was great!” You squeal, and he can’t fight the way his heart squeezes at your excitement. “I got some new dresses, a pair of heels, some perfumes- oh, and I got you a cologne-“

“That’s my girl,” he says, but he can tell your attention is focused on the small girl he’s currently burping, and he shrugs, “you want to take over?”

When you nod sheepishly, he gently passes Akiara over to you, and you coo down at her, “hi, Mumma’s girl,” you coo, and she burps loudly in your face. “Well excuse you!”

Sukuna can’t fight the laughter that barks from his throat, snickers tearing through until you’re smiling and shaking your head, and he pulls you in for another hug.

He loves that his small family fits in his arms.

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 1

SERIES SUMMARY: You’ve been best friends with Oscar Piastri since you were seven, far before the dream of Formula 1 even seemed possible. You’ve been with him from the very beginning—due, in no small part, to the fact that you’ve been in love with him since you were a teenager. But when a breakup and championship battle rattles the very foundations of your friendship, you begin to question if you ever really knew him. (Best friends to lovers, based on the song Wildflower by Billie Eilish)

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

WARNINGS: Oscar is not a very good boyfriend to Lily and Lily is not a very good girlfriend to Oscar. Potentially changed some dates (I think Oscar and Lily started dating when they were 17 or 18, but I’m making them 18 for the sake of the flashback scenes). Reader is “the girl he told me not to worry about” through no fault of her own. This story has a lot of complex character dynamics and everyone is flawed! References to sex but no actual smut.

A/N: Ah new series! I hope this is good—I’m trying some new stuff with the flashbacks and story layers, so I hope it doesn’t read too confusingly! Also, I’m trying to be more intentional with showing instead of telling with my dialogue and such, so hopefully that is an improvement. I always welcome constructive criticism, but either way, I hope you all enjoy this.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“Lily left me.”

He only needed those three words to convey the gravity of the situation. On the other end of the line, you were silent. He was too. What was there to say?

No, it couldn’t be real. Oscar and Lily were inseparable. The dream couple of Formula 1. Your best friend had been in love with her since the pair were 18, attending boarding school in the UK together while Oscar pursued his dreams of making it to F1. 

They were each other’s everything. At least, that’s what the world thought.

But you had seen this coming for a while now. It was just a shock for it to actually happen. 

Finally, after an eternity, you spoke, still too shocked to formulate a coherent thought. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean she fucking left me. What else do you want me to say?” You could hear the quivering in his voice, giving away the sadness behind his abrasive response. You weren’t offended one bit. 

“Shit, Osc, I’m so sorry. I… don’t know what to say. Do you want me to come over? Or you can come to mine?” 

“I’m outside yours right now. In the car park.” 

“I’ll let you in,” you said. The mental image you conjured of Oscar outside your apartment crying in his fancy McLaren would have been comical, if not given the circumstances.

He let himself in only a few moments later, hoodie covering his tall and muscled frame. He was soaked from the rain outside—he must have come directly from the confrontation. 

“Oh, Oscar,” you said, pulling him into a hug, cringing at the contact with his soggy hoodie, but knowing that there were far more important things to be worried about. 

You rubbed your hands up and down his shoulder blades that now heaved with sobs. His entire body shook with the fervor of his tears, and you just held him, gently shushing him and promising that everything will be okay. 

“I don’t know how she could do this to me,” he said, gasping out the words between haggard breaths. “The championship—I can’t do it without her.”

“I know,” you assured him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not, YN, it’s not gonna be okay. I love her. And she just threw away so many years.”

“I know.” You just kept assuring him, tightening your grip on him as his sobs became more intense. “Just breathe.”

“Why would she do this to me?” he asked. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

You knew. And deep down, Oscar did too. That was a conversation for another day. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming. 

You didn’t have it in you to lie to him. You had always been the type to pride yourself on being honest, even when the truth hurt, but you couldn’t bear to do it now. You changed the subject.

“Oscar, you’re soaking wet. I’ll find you something else and warm that up in the dryer, yeah? Just sit down, take a deep breath, and let me get this figured out.”

He sat down on your couch and took off his hoodie and t-shirt underneath, revealing his toned body. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before—you’d been friends with him since you were seven, growing up together. He almost felt like a brother to you, sometimes.

Maybe it wouldn’t be weird at all, except for the fact that you’d been in love with him for over a decade now. 

But right now that didn’t matter. He had plenty of old hoodies over in your apartment, which you carefully folded every time he forgot them. Placing his wet clothes in the dryer and setting the temp on high, you reached to the shelf above you and grabbed a random one. You unfolded it—an Alpine hoodie from back in the day, before his time at McLaren. You smiled at the memories that flashed in your mind, before quickly returning to Oscar with the garment. 

He had moved from your couch to your bedroom, holding a pillow on his lap, hunched over where the top of it met his chin. He was staring off into space, not breaking his gaze at the plain white wall.

You sat next to him, handing him the hoodie, and he mumbled a small thanks as he grabbed it. He didn’t put it on, instead just holding it with the pillow, as if filling his arms with the plush material would fill the hole now left in his heart.

“Oscar, I… don’t have anything profound to say. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond at first, instead just silently letting the tears well up in his eyes. 

“I guess I should have seen this coming,” he said quietly. 

You paused, unsure whether or not you should agree with him. But you were nothing if not honest.

“Yeah,” you said, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“I guess we just both fell out of love.”

“I mean… how did the conversation go?”

It would be stupidly easy for Oscar to lie and say he didn’t remember Lily’s every word. But he knew better, and so did you. As he explained, the memory replayed in his head.

“I can’t do this anymore, Oscar,” Lily said, a simple yet devastating statement.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” His confusion was genuine, much to the chagrin of his angry girlfriend.

“The fact that you even have to ask that proves my point.”

“Lily, talk to me. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Oscar stood up, now understanding the full gravity of the situation he found himself in. 

“I’m trying to say that I’m not happy anymore, and neither are you. I wanted to at least give it until the end of the season, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when we both know bloody well that it’s not! Don’t you want something better than this, Oscar?” Lily pleaded. 

“I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Don’t lie to me. You say that but you put everything else before me. I’m not a priority to you. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“I’ll quit F1. We can go back to the UK and live a normal life.”

“No. We both know that you wouldn’t do that.” Her tone was incredulous, twinged with a slight anger at the mere suggestion. 

“Yes, I would. I’d do anything. Don’t do this, Lily. Not now, not when I need you the most.”

Lily grabbed his hand, leading him to sit down on the couch next to her. “Oscar,” she began, “we had a good run. You made me so, so happy for so long.” She reached up to gently cup his cheeks and wipe away where tears were now forming at the edge of his eyes. “I saw you achieve things that neither of us ever thought were possible. But…I can’t stay any longer. Not when there’s no place for me in your heart anymore.”

You sighed. You knew every word that Lily had said was right. But you also knew you couldn’t get that through to Oscar, at least not until the shock wore off.

The words remained unspoken. You had been there for all of it. Lily was his first love, his only girlfriend, and everyone assumed that he’d marry her one day; you included. 

“I just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on acting like my life didn’t just fall apart. How did you do it?”

This was Oscar's first breakup, but you had been through too many, it seemed, since he was asking you for advice on how to handle them.

The truth? It was very easy to get over a breakup when every partner you’ve ever had was a feeble attempt at denial. When they all inevitably failed, you just went back to bask in Oscar’s platonic love. It was enough. 

“I won’t lie to you, the first one is always hell. You feel like you’re going crazy for a while. You lose hope that you’ll ever feel happier, because everything reminds you of them. And then one day it just…doesn’t. The only thing that heals it is time and finding love around you, you know, friends and family.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

‘Well, I’m not going to lie to you and say it’ll be easy, because it won't. But it will be okay—not today, but someday. You’ve got something to focus on with the championship. And I’ll be here.” You gave him an empathetic smile. 

Maybe you weren’t the most comforting friend to most. But you and Oscar had a bond that was very different to most friendships. You understood each other’s idiosyncrasies in ways no one else could. So when shit hit the fan, it was always each other that you went to.

You continued, “You can stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you.”

There was only one problem: your apartment only had one bed. And to the dismay of fanfiction writers across the world, you all would not be sharing it. 

You distracted Oscar by cooking a meal and watching a comfort movie—Cars, a classic. You could tell he was exhausted by the way his head on your shoulder sloped just a little too heavily downwards as the credits rolled. 

“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” you said, gently pushing him awake. He sleepily stumbled back into your bedroom and collapsed on the bed, almost instantly falling back asleep.

You took the couch, but despite the money you spent splurging on the extra cushioned sofa, no sleep came to you. 

It wasn’t any physical discomfort that fueled your insomnia, but rather, the events of the previous evening. Lily had actually left Oscar. She had finally pulled the plug.

Yes, in some ways, it was expected. But at the same time, you couldn’t imagine a version of your best friend that wasn’t madly in love with his girlfriend. 

From the outside, though, you couldn’t blame Lily one bit. You wondered what had been the last straw. 

You could think of three possible moments. First: The Apartment. 

“I’m moving to Monaco,” Oscar began, and you felt your heart drop in your stomach. Of course, one day he’d make it to Monaco. That was the dream of every Formula 1 driver, right? The beauty of the French Riviera and tax evasion. And you’d be left at your aging flat in the UK, waiting for those precious few days a year where he was free to grace you with his presence. 

“That’s amazing!” you said, only half believing it to be true. 

“In a few weeks I’m gonna go look at condos. Come with me? Lily can’t get off work.”

“Of course,” you replied. You’d already been to Monaco before for Oscar’s races, but you wouldn’t turn down any reason to get out of the constant dreary rain of the UK. 

You felt like a celebrity as you coasted through the Monte Carlo streets in the passenger side of Oscar’s McLaren, on your way to tour fabulous properties for your best friend (the actual celebrity). You breathed in the saltwater breeze, fresh and tinged with the air of wealth and splendor.

But it hurt your heart to know that you were helping your best friend leave. You imagined him getting up and doing his morning runs along the harbor, the sun blazing down the strained muscles on his back. Then you laughed to yourself at the thought of Oscar, the pastiest Aussie you knew, getting sunburnt. 

At the first property you met the realtor, who (after mistaking you for Lily; not the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last) took the pair of you to different condos throughout the day. 

Oscar decided on the final one you saw; two bedrooms, plenty of natural light, and a great view. Elegant, refined and practical—just like Oscar himself. 

The realtor handed him the paperwork and left as you stood on the balcony, looking at the beauty of the city before you. You were quiet, unusually so, and Oscar noticed. 

He sat the paperwork on the kitchen counter and walked onto the balcony next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice lowered. “You’re gonna make such beautiful memories here.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me now?”

You smiled and laughed. “A little,” you admitted, “I can’t help it. I’ll miss you all.” 

“You could always come with us. You seem to like it here,” he teased, tilting his head toward the edge of the balcony.

“You’d have to give me a raise if I was gonna afford Monaco rent prices.” You’d been running Oscar’s merch store and social media for the past few years, making a great wage, but nowhere near the immense wealth you’d need to call a place like this home. You joked with him, knowing Oscar actually had nothing to do with how much you got paid. 

“I would if I could. But, I mean, if you had a place to stay it wouldn’t really be that bad.”

“Are you suggesting I move into your guest room?”

Now he laughed. “No, but I’m just saying, if you had an apartment, you could make it work.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused, but trying to go along with the joke. “Well, sure, but apartments don’t just appear out of thin air.”

“You never know.” Oscar scratched the back of his neck and looked away, a sign of the awkwardness that now blanketed your moment on the balcony. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, theoretically, if someone were to have a spare apartment that they weren’t using, you could live there and Monaco would be a reasonable place to live, no?”

You didn’t answer his question, instead just giving him another confused glance until he gave up whatever he was trying to say. He still couldn’t meet your gaze. 

“Look—I don’t want to live so far away from my friend. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Oscar, you…”

“I got you an apartment.”

“You… bought me an apartment. In Monaco.” It came out more like a statement than a question, evidence of your shock. He reached into his pocket and dug out a key, holding it out to you.

You just looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Oscar, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?”

“How much was it?” 

“I have more than enough money.”

“Answer the question.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “About 4 million?” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “Before you say anything,” he began, “I made over 30 million last year. I have more money than I’d ever know what to do with, so why not just spend it all on the people I love?” 

“Oscar… I can’t, that’s too much.”

“Will you at least go look at it with me? Actually, I’m driving, so you don’t have a choice,” he joked, walking back into the apartment. “Let’s go.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. There was no way you could let Oscar buy you a 4 million dollar apartment, but also, how could you not? The wind whipped through your hair as you rolled down the window of his McLaren, drinking in the beauty of the city around you. 

The apartment was smaller than the one he had picked for himself and Lily, but you didn’t mind one bit. It was perfectly cosy, and God, the view was spectacular. You could see the whole city from his apartment, but here, you could see the water. You stepped on the balcony and took a deep breath, taking in the sound of the ocean waves beneath you. 

Oscar followed you. “It’s a bit small, but I figured you’d like the view.”

“Oscar…”

“If you really don’t want it, I can rent it out. But I’d much rather have you close.” He held out the keys again. “What do you say?”

You could have told him you needed more time to think about it, but deep down, you already knew what you wanted. You took the keys. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Oscar. Seriously.”

“No need to thank me.” He smiled.

Back in the UK, he showed Lily the photos he had taken of the condo he had chosen for them as they went over the paperwork one last time.

He grabbed the pen to scratch out one of the boxes Lily had checked, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

“Oh, did I mess something up?” Shit. She leaned over his shoulder, reading the paperwork aloud. “Please indicate if you own any additional properties in the principality of Monaco.” She looked at Oscar. “You already have a property there?” 

“Oh, erm, yeah,” he said, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“How come I never heard about this?” 

“Um, I just got it a bit ago.”

Lily could sense her boyfriend’s hesitancy. “Is this something I wasn’t supposed to know about?”

“Oh, no,” he said, “it’s not like that. I just didn’t think to mention it.”

“So, what is this property?”

“An apartment.” 

Lily hated feeling like she was having to interrogate Oscar, but clearly there was some piece of the puzzle missing that was causing his reluctance. 

“An apartment?” she questioned. “You got another apartment?”

“Yeah, I, um,” he looked at the ceiling while scratching his neck, a clear sign of his nervousness, “I was planning on giving it to YN.”

“You bought YN an apartment in Monaco? When were you planning on telling me about this?” 

His walls of defense had finally broken down. “It’s not a big deal. I made more than enough last season, I could afford it.  And it’s just easier to have her there for the brand shoots and media stuff. Plus, I mean, she came to London to support me after graduation, even though I know she hates it here. I just figured I should repay the favor.”

“...Okay,” Lily began, her voice tinged with skepticism. “So, you do realize what this looks like, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my boyfriend bought an apartment for his “best friend” and tried to hide it from me. That’s the kind of thing cheating husbands do in movies, buy an apartment for their mistress for her to keep it quiet.”

Oscar wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, the air quotes Lily placed around “best friend” or the insinuation that he had been unfaithful. 

“Lily, seriously? I’m not cheating on you, I love you and you know that.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You know YN and I have been friends forever, it’s not like I did this for some random woman. I don’t appreciate being accused of lying.”

“But you were lying by omission.”

“Lily—”

“You know, nothing against her, but one of the reasons I was looking forward to this move was having more…us time. Without YN.” 

The statement brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Despite what she had said, it seemed like Lily did have something against you.

“You know, this kind of thing is why I was putting off telling you about it.”

“What are you saying?” she asked. Oscar knew he was tempting fire, but he didn’t care.

He continued, “You’re freaking out because I did something kind for a friend. I’m allowed to do whatever I want with my money.”

“I never said you weren’t, and I’m not freaking out. But I guess I’m just such a horrible person for saying I want to spend more time with my boyfriend.”

“If you’re putting down my “best friend” to do it,” he said, mocking her air quotes, “then yeah, that’s not cool.” 

“Oscar, you’re being so…weird about all of this. I’m not insulting YN. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“We’re literally going on vacation in February!”

“With friends. You invited your friends to our romantic getaway, Oscar.”

“You know I only have so much time off during the off season, and I’m spending most of it with realtors and accountants and eight thousand other people preparing us for this move. God forbid I want to invite my friends to Italy with us. Not everything can be just us, Lily.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m done with this conversation.”

The second next instance you could think of happened on the trip.

It was a beautiful getaway to the Amalfi Coast, your dream destination that you’d somehow never made it to.

The group of Oscar’s friends, including you and Lando, had plans to come and go, with everyone being gone before the fourteenth so that Oscar and Lily could have their Valentine's Day date. Of course, you knew nothing of the arguments they’d had in the past about this, but you had common sense enough to not be a third wheel. Oscar thought this was a good enough compromise. 

Well, he thought. 

From the moment he picked you up from the airport, you could tell that the energy was different than usual. He blamed it on jet lag, but you knew better. You knew your best friend too well.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the problem was between him and Lily. She was colder towards him; not enough for anyone but you and him to notice, but still there and undeniable. 

Even weirder was Lily’s…preoccupation, it seemed, with pointing out single and attractive men to you. It wasn’t a hushed reality that you were single, and had been for some time. You'd given up on dating a long time ago—you knew that you had already found the love of your life, and he just happened to be Lily’s boyfriend.

But, of course, you’d never tell anyone this. Lots of people were confused because you seemed so fine being single. But you thought that Lily, one of your best friends (at least, by association), would know that you weren’t really interested in meeting anyone. 

You sat with Lily in a restaurant overlooking the coast, the balcony having been rented out by Oscar for one of your last dinners. You all were waiting for him and Lando to join you, passing the time by ordering wine and appetizers.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Lily said, gesturing her head to your waiter that was walking back into the main restaurant. 

You didn’t really know what to say. You glanced at him through the glass wall. “Lily, he most definitely plays for the other team, if you know what I mean,” you joked, reaching for a slice of bread on the table. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

“Well I don’t mean for me, I meant for you.”

You chuckled. “For me?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you want to get yourself a hot Italian man?”

“I’m perfectly happy being single.” You tried to diffuse the awkward conversation, keeping a kind tone in your voice as you ate the bread and looked into the distance at the coastline.

“Oh, come on. We’ll get you someone, don’t worry.”

“I really am fine being single.”

“You know who else is single?” she asked, clearly ignoring your protests. “Lando!”

You laughed aloud. “Oh God, no. If I wanted to be cheated on, I would have stayed with my ex. Besides, Oscar would kill him.”

A curious fact: Oscar had never approved of a single person you had ever introduced him to. You had to spend hours talking him out of running over your ex with his F1 car after you found out about his infidelity. 

“Oh, who cares what Oscar thinks? I think you should go for it,” she said, watching as the waiter returned to pour your glasses of wine. 

“Lily,” you said, holding your glass, ready to take a sip, “I don’t want to be in a relationship, like, at all. It’s just…not for me.” You sipped the wine, but through the reflection on the glass, you could see that Lily had pursed her lips in an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“If you want me to stop third-wheeling you and Oscar, you can just say so,” you joked as the boys made their way to the balcony to join you. 

You didn’t know it, but your joke cut deep in Lily’s heart. 

Nothing was said about it during the dinner, but Lily’s strange energy continued. It quickly became uncomfortable how much she was pushing Lando and you to interact. 

And when you all made your way to a local nightclub after the dinner, it didn’t get any better. Lando quickly got himself lost in the crowd, and you were once again left to be the third wheel. 

You could tell that Lily was getting annoyed, but to be fair, she was also annoying you. 

“Go dance with Lando!” she shouted over the thumping bass. She gestured to the opposite corner of the small club, where Lando was currently making out with some random Italian woman. 

You pointed this fact out to Lily, who just grimaced. 

“Do you just want me to go away?” you joked.

“Yes!” she said, and you were taken aback, because she was definitely not joking. 

Oscar was at the bar getting drinks, far enough away that he couldn’t hear. To be honest, you didn’t even want to be in this club anymore. 

So you snuck out and began your walk home without telling any of them.

As you walked along the cobblestone streets, Oscar handed Lily a drink, pausing when he noticed that you weren’t there to receive yours. “Where’s YN?” he asked.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she headed back,” Lily said. 

“By herself? Should we go check on her?”

Lily wanted to roll her eyes. “No, she’s just tired. C’mon, let’s go dance!”

Oscar obeyed, but couldn’t ignore the feeling inside him that something about this whole night had been odd. 

The next time he saw Lando, he decided to say something about it. 

“Hey mate, are you going back soon?” he asked. Lando nodded, clearly tipsy. “Can you check on YN? Lily said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Sure,” he said, annoyed at the mention of you again.

He did come back to the house soon, but with an equally drunk and giggly woman on his arm, the same girl he had been making out with in the corner of the club. 

You didn’t expect any of them for a long time, so you sat in the living room of the AirBNB, watching the waves cascade into the shore, romanticizing this complicated feeling that coiled itself inside of you. 

That was, until Lando stumbled in. 

His eyes got wide as dinner plates upon seeing you. The girl on his arm giggled and walked off into the nearest bathroom. 

“Hey YN,” he slurred. “Are you dying?”

You laughed. “I’m fine.”

“Lily said you were sick.” 

“Nope, I’m good.” 

He looked to the closed door of the bathroom. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“You’re fine. I’m…uh, not interested, anyway. I don’t know what Lily’s been on about today.”

“Oh, thank God,” he exhaled. You laughed, despite the sting of rejection in his relief. “Well, I’ll keep it quiet.”

“I’ve got headphones.”

You made your way to your room and put on your noise cancelling headphones, passing the time by scrolling and catching up on work emails, before falling asleep.

You didn’t sleep through the night, instead waking up in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was just beginning to round itself along the golden coast. You left your room to get a glass of water, not expecting to see the rest of your friends in the kitchen.

Lily looked hungover as hell, leaning her elbow on the counter, her hand resting uncomfortably on her forehead. Oscar was leaning against the counter on the other side while Lando sat at the bar next to Lily, drinking something out of a mug. His flight home was going to leave soon. 

You nodded to your three companions as you sipped your water glass, feeling the tension around you like an oncoming migraine. 

“You feeling okay?” Oscar asked. “Lily said you weren’t doing well last night.”

“Ah, just tired,” you answered. Lily had lied to both Lando and Oscar. That was a conversation for another day. 

“Well rested now?” Lily asked, her voice tinged with anger and fake sympathy.

“I’m fine,” was all you could answer. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a knowing look. You had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Are you feeling okay, Lily? You look like you’re about to throw up,” you said, a more genuine concern in your voice.

“I’m fine too,” she said, clearly not fine.

Lando’s Uber pulled up, and you took the opportunity to help him transfer all his bags in one trip.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on with her?” he asked as you heaved the suitcase up into the trunk.

“No idea,” you answered. “Before you all got to the restaurant last night she was being…weird. For the record, I didn’t put her up to any of that.”

“I figured as much. You’re not the type.” Lando was right—it was common knowledge that you were happily single. 

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. For the record, it made me uncomfortable too.”

He exhaled. “Eh, we’re cool. No hard feelings, yeah? I’m sure she’ll snap out of it.” 

“I hope so,” you said, giving him a wave as the car disappeared into the winding roads of the coast.

Back in the house, you could hear Oscar and Lily whispering to each other. You wanted nothing more than to disappear and act like this weird night and morning had never happened, but unfortunately, you had to cross through the kitchen back to your room. 

A hush went through the room when you entered. You walked as quickly as possible through the kitchen, but were stopped by a voice.

“YN,” Lily called. “I think you should leave.”

“Lily—” Oscar interjected.

“I was just going back to my room anyway,” you explained.

“That’s not what I meant. I think you should go home.”

“Lily, don’t do this—” Oscar pleaded. You just stood in shock.

“Actually, let me clarify,” she continued. “YN, I don’t want you here. Go home.”

“Lily!” Oscar interjected. “Don’t say that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, even though it was definitely not fine. “Let me pack and I’ll be on my way.”

You turned and continued back to your room, fully prepared to do as you had just said. But Oscar followed you.

“YN, wait. Stay,” he said. 

“Oscar, it’s fine.”

“I am so sorry that Lily said that, but I want you here.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two or why she’s so upset at me, but if someone tells me to go, I’m not going to overstay my welcome.”

“Still, that was so rude.”

“I’ve got thick skin. I won’t cry myself to sleep over it.” You looked out the window to the coast. “Look, I’ll just find someplace else to stay. A hotel for a few nights is cheaper than trying to reschedule my flight, anyways.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me, Osc,” you said, patting his shoulder. “Go talk to her, figure out what’s wrong.” 

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I already know what’s wrong. She’s mad that we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Then go spend time with her.”

“That was the plan! But, I mean, I’m pissed that she said that to you. And she spent all day yesterday trying to set you and Lando up, which was fucking weird.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled with a twinge of laughter. “Look, with my record I can’t exactly give you love advice, but I don’t mind leaving. You all clearly need some space, anyway. Just text me if you need anything, okay?”

Oscar gave you a flat smile and nod. 

You packed and quickly booked a private room at a local hostel for the next few days, planning to enjoy the last few days as a solo trip. You truly didn’t care, but in the back of your mind, you hoped that everything would be okay. You never received that text from Oscar. 

Back at the house, Oscar and Lily were alone. And neither of them were happy.

“Just fucking go with her if you’re that mad,” Lily said, egging Oscar on. He had always been slow to anger, but he couldn’t deny that he was pissed.

“What is wrong with you?” he questioned. “Why would you say that to her? Do you understand how rude that is? And not to mention the fact that you were being fucking weird with her and Lando all night.”

“Oscar, I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“No, I’m pissed!”

“And, as usual, it’s all about your feelings, hm?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act stupid. Do you know how much I’ve put up with because I don’t want to hurt your feelings? Every vacation, every race weekend, she’s always there. And I put up with her because she’s your friend, but I don’t like her, Oscar.” 

“What did she do to you?” he asked. But Lily couldn’t answer. It wasn’t like there had been a specific incident or falling out; in fact, you had always been kind to her. Lily’s silence was all the answer that Oscar needed. 

“You knew that YN and I were a package deal from the beginning.” 

Tears came to Lily’s eyes. “But this was supposed to be our trip. Just us.” 

“Lily, they were only here for a few days. I specifically set it up so that we’d have 2 weeks to ourselves after they left. Is that not enough?” 

She was silent, at first. Then came a question out of left field. 

“Were you going to propose?” she asked.

Oscar made a face. “Propose?”

“I thought the point of the trip was that you were going to propose.” She looked away, trying to hide her tears. “I’m tired of feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. I’m sick of YN third wheeling, so I thought if I set her up with Lando, maybe she’d leave us alone for a while.” Her voice was tinged with an angry mocking. 

She continued, softer, “Oscar, I want to be your wife, I want to grow old with you—”

But Oscar had little sympathy for her. “That’s really what all this was about? Lily, I’m not proposing any time soon.”

“We’ve been together for nearly five years.”

“I know. But with the season starting soon—”

“There’ll always be another season, another race. Is your plan to just marry me when you retire?” The sarcasm had returned to her voice. “Do you even want to marry me?”

“Of course I do. But we’re young, we have time. I’m in no rush.” 

“I feel like you don’t care about what I want at all.”

“Lily, I’m trying. But I feel like you want me to cut off my best friend and settle down at 22. You’re asking things of me that I can’t give you.”

“Then why are we even doing this?” Lily asked.

“Because I love you, and I want this to work! But Lily, you can’t treat my friends like that. If you’re angry at me, talk to me, but don’t take it out on them. YN is an important part of my life, too.”

“I’m well aware.”

Oscar sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Lily announced, leaving the conversation altogether. 

When she woke up, her head was pounding. Oscar was asleep beside her, his back towards her, no warmth even in his unconscious state. She had slept through the entire day—the moon hung high in the sky. 

As she quietly made her way to the kitchen and got some water and a snack, the memory of what had happened came back, rushing over her. She felt horrible. 

The sleep and food had reset her mind. Make no mistake, she was still upset at Oscar, but what he had said was right—she shouldn’t have taken it out on you. She needed to make it right. 

She texted you. Hey YN, are you awake? I’d like to talk. In person, if you can. 

Only a few minutes later you responded, affirming that you were available and sending the address of your hostel. Lily got there quickly, quietly walking through the rooms to your private room in the back. When you shut the door behind you and you both sat on the bed, she broke down. 

“YN,” Lily began, “I am so sorry about this morning. Truthfully, I was upset at Oscar and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I was so rude.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“No, it’s not,” Lily interjected. But she seemed at a loss for words. “I just… sometimes, I feel like I hardly get any alone time with Oscar anymore.”

“Because I’m always there?” you joked, not knowing how close to the truth you really were. Lily didn’t respond. “Look, if you want me to take a step back, I can do that.”

Her response was quiet. “Would that be too much to ask?”

“No.” But it was, in a way. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, but your expression gave away nothing. “I understand.”

“I don’t think he loves me anymore,” Lily confessed. You normally didn’t want to know the details of their relationship, because the truth was too heavy to bear. But it seemed cruel to cut her off. “I feel like he never wants to be around me, like he prefers his work and his friends over me. I want to get married and he doesn’t. He keeps saying it's too soon and he’s busy, but it’s been nearly five years! I mean, how long does he want me to wait?”

You felt uncomfortable, not sure how to comfort your best friend's girlfriend. So you were honest. “I don’t know, Lily. I don’t know what goes on in Oscar’s head any more than you do.”

“Yes you do,” she replied. “You’ve known him longer.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“No, no, no,” you said, wrapping Lily in an embrace as she cried. “No, he’s not. He loves you so much.”

“No,” she echoed. “He doesn’t.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just held her. 

At one point, your phone buzzed, illuminating the screen. Some unimportant notification, but you noticed the date and time more than that. It was past midnight; Valentine’s Day. 

The third instance was during the first weekend of the 2025 season; the Australian Grand Prix.  

You hadn’t heard from Oscar since the trip. You didn’t really know what to say, and part of you was dreading having to speak to him, knowing that your mere presence was now a strain on his relationship.

Of course Lily wanted more time with him. It made sense. You were present at…most things, actually. But Oscar always invited you, and besides, they lived together. If you had known that you had overstayed your welcome, you never would have gone in the first place.

But on the other hand, you and Oscar had been a part of each other’s lives for nearly double the time that Lily had been around. It wasn’t a competition, but you couldn’t shake that sour feeling that rested in your stomach, that if given the chance, Lily would want you gone for good. 

Regardless, between the trip and the grand prix, life went on as normal. It was odd, since your job was literally running all the official OP81 media pages and merch website. You couldn’t not be a part of his life—you made your living by posting memes about him on the internet and organizing all his merch sales.

So, naturally, you went to nearly all the races to take photos of fans, the paddock, and the garage. It was one of your favorite parts of the job. 

But Australia was different. It was Oscar’s home race, and a place full of memories for you. 

Your family had moved to Australia when you were only seven, having absolutely no friends, except the sweet boy next door in your cul de sac. At first he was cold. You thought he hated you. But you were nothing if not stubborn. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday; for Christmas, you asked for a pink motorized jeep, just like the black one that Oscar—the neighbour boy, back then—had. You squealed for joy when you got it. And the very first thing you did was challenge him to a race.

He ignored you. So you rammed your car into his, causing both of them to break. Ever since, somehow, you’d been inseparable. 

Your parents traveled a lot for work, so instead of constantly going with them, you found yourself staying with the Piastri family for months at a time. Nicole truly felt like your second mom, and Hattie was the sister you never had. And Oscar was…Oscar. It was impossible to describe the bond between you. 

Your parents were never too keen on Oscar, though. They kept it quiet when you were little, but as you grew, their dislike became more outward.

He was 14, leaving for boarding school in the UK. When he told you, you cried. That’s the only time he ever saw you cry.

You wanted to go with him, but your parents couldn’t afford it. He promised he wouldn’t let your friendship die, and he was true to his word. When he got into the higher formulas in racing, he helped you get your job so that you all would never be that far from each other again. 

But your parents always said he was using you, stringing you along, exploiting your labor. Though you’d never admitted it to another soul, they knew you well enough to understand that you loved him. 

You cut your parents off a long time ago. 

Sometimes the fans were worse. Half of them loved you—the half that understood that you could give them access to your idol—but the other half of them called you a beneficiary of nepotism, a gold digger, or a homewrecker. You learned at a young age to develop thick skin. 

And it was how you both behaved on race weekends that really exemplified the difference between you and Lily. 

You liked to be everywhere at once—in the garage trying to interpret the engineers’ technical jargon, in the grandstands taking photos of fans, in the pitlane shooting the shit with the race stewards. You always wore Oscar’s merch, and you wanted to be in the middle of all the action.

Lily, in contrast, was more reserved. She always looked put together, and frankly stunning, at all her appearances. She preferred to watch the race from the comfort and privacy of McLaren hospitality, and when she did interact with fans, she was respectful but short, very conscious of her space.

Neither of you were better or worse than the other. But no one could deny that you were polar opposites. 

You got to Australia before Oscar himself did, having been invited to spend a few days with your surrogate family before you’d have to stay in the hotel, per F1 employee policy. Nicole had told Oscar, who you assumed had told Lily, and when you didn’t hear anything for a few days before you were meant to fly out, you thought everything was fine.

Of course, you thought wrong. 

You spent 3 days with Oscar’s family, relishing the warm feeling of belonging that you’d missed. The Piastri guest room felt more like your own childhood bedroom. Of course, Nicole asked how you’d been, but you were politely distant, wanting to respect the fact that Oscar and Lily’s relationship was none of your business. 

When the pair finally landed in Australia and made their way to Oscar’s childhood home for the night, though, things worsened. 

When Nicole got back from picking them up from the airport, you were in the kitchen prepping dinner. Hearing the front door close, you looked up and smiled, greeting the group.

“YN! What are you doing here?” Lily asked, her voice tentative. 

Nicole answered for you. “Oh, she’s been here since Sunday. I’m so happy to have all my kids under the same roof again,” she joked, turning to Oscar to reach up and pinch his cheeks.

Lily just gave a pained smile. 

You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t talked to Oscar in nearly a month. You wanted to honor her wishes—but it seemed like her wish was for you to vanish into thin air. 

The rest of the night you were unusually quiet, trying to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult for Nicole to notice that something was up, but she knew better than to bring it up in front of the whole table. 

After dinner she wanted everyone to gather in the living room and watch a movie, which you quickly bowed out of, complaining of exhaustion. 

As the credits rolled, Nicole leaned over to whisper to Oscar, “Is everything okay with YN?” 

Lily overheard and interjected, “She’s fine.” Nicole raised an eyebrow. 

Oscar responded, “The home grand prix is always busy for her.”

The answer wasn’t sufficient enough to crush Nicole’s suspicions, but she didn’t have any more time to pry as her son and his girlfriend quickly decided to retire for the night themselves. 

The next morning, as everyone was packing to get to the hotel, Nicole decided to ask you herself if everything was okay. But predictably, again, you just said that you were fine. And the morning was so hectic that she didn’t really have the time to interrogate you.

Once you all got settled and to the track for media day, work mode took over, and you forgot all about the tension at the Piastri family home. Though you quite literally were paid to follow Oscar around all day, you felt more like the paparazzi than his friend, hardly ever speaking to him.

And as you went back to the hotel room alone to edit and post for tonight, you felt like a stranger in your own body. 

You didn’t want to do this anymore. You missed your friend, but more importantly, you missed being yourself.

But what were you supposed to do? You loved Oscar. Oscar loved Lily. Lily hated you. 

You were stuck between three impossible choices: stick around and be forced to subdue yourself into a shell of your true personality until Lily decided she wasn’t upset at you anymore, lose everything you’d ever built by quitting and moving away like you knew she wanted, or continue being yourself and possibly cost Oscar the love of his life. 

Yeah, this was a wonderful predicament you found yourself in, through no fault of your own.

You moved like a zombie through the free practices and qualifying. When it was finally time for the grand prix, you assumed your usual place in the McLaren garage, for work if nothing else.

But then, Oscar won. 

No team rules. No convoluted strategies. Just Oscar doing what he did best.

You couldn’t hear your own thoughts over the shout of the garage and the crowd in the distance, cheering out for their hometown hero. You ran out with everyone to the barricades to greet your best friend.

Though he still had his helmet on, you could see the effects of his smile in his squinted eyes. He pumped his fist in the air, cheering to himself before running to the barricades to jump into the waiting arms of the crowd. You cheered with them, overwhelmed with pride. 

Oscar locked eyes with you, cupping your face with his gloved hands and pressing the top of his helmet to your forehead. “I did it, YN!”

“You did!” you yelled, smiling ear to ear. 

Of course, people took photos. Photos that Oscar posted later that night. 

Lily didn’t like it—the sweet intimacy of the moment, front and center on Oscar’s Instagram page. Why would you post that? It was like you were taunting her. 

Lily sat on the edge of the hotel bed while Oscar showered, both of them preparing to meet you, Lando, and a few McLaren team members to celebrate his win. 

When Oscar emerged from the bathroom, Lily asked him, “Osc, can you do me a favor?”

“Hm?” he murmured as he dried his hair. 

“Can you take down that picture that YN posted?”

“YN posted something?” he questioned, grabbing his phone. As his social media manager, you had access to all his accounts, but occasionally he’d post something himself, too. “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

Lily pursed her lips. “The first picture from the post she made an hour ago.” 

“Oh, this?” Oscar held up his phone. “I posted that.” 

Lily was silent. 

“Why do you want me to delete it? It’s a good photo.” 

Lily just looked at him. Oscar sighed and archived the photo. “There, happy?”

His tone was much harsher than he intended, but to be honest, he was getting tired of the constant fighting, and his patience was wearing thin. 

Lily kept quiet, just silently going into the bathroom to start doing her makeup.

In the lobby of the hotel an hour or so later, you awkwardly stood with Lando waiting for the couple to arrive. Once again you were torn—should you miss out on celebrating with your best friend on his first ever home win, or should you go and strain his relationship further? 

You were just going to say screw it and go back up to your room when you saw Lily and Oscar walking towards you. Though there was no tension between them, there was no love either. They both just looked…tired. 

Everyone had decided to keep it relaxed for tonight, just doing a nice group dinner with Oscar’s family. It was fine, albeit a tad awkward, because you were sitting between Lando and some McLaren employees you didn’t know, at the opposite end of the table from Lily, Oscar, and his family. 

You knew this couldn’t continue forever. Something had to break. And it did, when you and Lando ended up back in Oscar and Lily’s room, drinking your way through a bottle of nice champagne. 

The alcohol seemed to have calmed Lando’s nerves, as he was actually normal with you. And Oscar was a blushy, smiling mess and he and his teammate laughed at something you couldn’t remember. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but the mood was ruined by Lily’s drunken slurring. “Oh my God, YN, just shut up! Go away!” she giggled and grabbed Oscar’s arm. 

Usually, you were calm, letting any infraction roll off of you like waves on the beach. But the alcohol emboldened you. 

“Lily, what the fuck is your problem with me?” you asked.

The mood shifted, and Lily gave you a look of disgust. “I was just joking, God.”

“No you weren’t.” 

Lando chimed in. “Well, I think I gotta call it a night.” He got up and patted Oscar on the back. The two men stood up to walk out, leaving just you and Lily alone in the hotel room. 

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but don’t act like there isn’t one. It’s obvious that you don’t want me around, I don’t know what I ever did to you.”

Lily had clearly been sobered up by your seriousness. Still, she burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

You sighed, unable to keep your anger in the face of her cries. She continued, “I just… Oscar and I were each other’s first everything. First love, first kiss…first time. I love him so much.”

“I’m not trying to steal him from you.” 

Lily was quiet, and so were you. Something she had said gave you pause. 

They were each other’s first everything—no, that couldn’t be true. 

Because you were Oscar’s first. 

It had been many years—you were both 18—and you had never spoken about what happened. But you remembered. 

He came back home for Christmas from the UK. It was before he had even met Lily. 

You welcomed him home with an embrace—even with the frequent phone calls you had, you couldn’t help but miss your best friend, now here before you, in the flesh.

Neither of you could sleep that night, and somehow you both found yourself in Oscar’s childhood bedroom, quiet in the early hours of the morning.

Though it was warm outside, Nicole had a habit of keeping the house frigid, so you and Oscar huddled together under the handmade quilt that decorated his bed. The moment was tender and quiet, together in the soft darkness. 

“Do you like it in the UK?” you asked him, your question searching for a genuine answer. 

“It’s okay, I guess. It’s what I have to do for the races.”

“But do you ever get…lonely?”

He paused. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

You traced small circles on the skin of your leg. The closeness of the moment was uncomfortable. 

“But you have friends, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not, y’know, friends for life.”

“I get you.” You really did, not having many friends of your own since Oscar left. “But you must have a ton of girls, though. They all want the cool race car driver.” You smiled, trying to use your humor to lighten the intimacy of the moment. 

“No,” was all he answered. “And if I had a girlfriend, you’d be the first to know, anyway.” In the dark of the room, you could only see the outline of his features, but you could feel the pull of his eyes looking at you. “What, do you have a boyfriend? Is that why you’re bringing this up?” he asked. 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“What do you mean, of course?”

“I mean, why would I have a boyfriend? I have no friends and half the people at school think you don’t even exist.”

“What?” he laughed.

“Well, yeah, when I say my best friend drives race cars in the UK, most people think I’m making you up.” 

“Shit,” he laughed. 

“So, yeah, it doesn’t exactly get me dates,” you laughed. You felt your throat stiffen. “I haven’t even had my first kiss or anything.”

The silence in the room was thick. “I haven’t either,” Oscar confessed. 

You found it hard to believe. Oscar was handsome, funny, everything a girl could want. Neither of you had ever been social butterflies, though. 

Under the blanket, Oscar reached for your hand, placing it in his. Your heart was beating out of your chest; you had never even held a boy’s hand. 

“We could just…do it now,” he said. “Just to get it over with.” He feigned his usual nonchalance, but you could feel the increase of his heartbeat and the ever so subtle tremble in his voice. 

It would be easy for you to laugh it off like a joke. But you knew it wasn’t. And you wanted him. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice breathy with nervousness. 

You sat up on the bed, and saw the dark outline of his figure leaning towards you, gently tilting your head. 

And when his lips met yours, it felt like home. Like everything in your entire life had left you up to this moment, here in the warmth of your best friend’s childhood bedroom.

The kiss lasted longer than you anticipated, but when he did pull away, it was too soon. You were grateful for the darkness that hid your expression. But even without the light, Oscar could see the truth behind your eyes.

“We could…keep going.”

“Okay,” you repeated. 

One of his hands found your waist now, pulling you closer, as his other hand pushed back your hair that had fallen in your face.

Once again his lips met yours. It wasn’t like a spark within you—more like a calming, a sense of peace and safety. Of all the boys you’d crushed on before, Oscar was different. You trusted him with everything. 

And you showed him so. 

He slipped his tongue past your teeth, tentative, as if he was scared to do the wrong thing. But you let him close the gap, your own tongue gliding along his, goosebumps going down your back the closer you got. 

He wanted to put his hands all over you, but he was nervous.

He pulled away. “I…don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t either. Is it actually your first time?”

“Yeah. You don’t mind me being your first?”

“I trust you.”

So you both took it slow, taking each other’s hands where you wanted to be touched, not focusing on anything but the other. 

The love you made was quiet and simple, beautiful yet imperfect. But you didn’t need perfect. You just needed him. 

The next morning, you slipped out of his room before anyone was awake, afraid of what would happen if they found out.

But no one ever did. Oscar never said a word about it ever again, and neither did you; after the holidays, he went back to school and met Lily, and the rest was history. 

But you remembered. And as you sat in that hotel room years later waiting for him, you felt numb. 

By the time he got back Lily had calmed down, but you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You announced your departure, but Oscar decided to walk you out, too. 

You closed the door behind you, but Oscar pulled you to not leave so quickly. 

“Hey, is everything alright with you and Lily?”

“No. It’s not.” 

He sighed. “I don’t know why she’s being like this.”

You just stared at him, your face blank. 

“What,” he asked, “don’t tell me you’re mad too.”

“Was Lily your first?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” 

Oscar looked over his shoulder. “I’d really rather not talk about this in the hallway…”

“So do you want to go in the room and talk about it? In front of her? Because you lied to one of us. Which one was it?”

“YN, it’s—”

“Which one of us did you lie to, Oscar?”

He let out a sharp exhale, knowing there was no way to escape your line of questioning. He leaned down to whisper to you. “I didn’t lie to her. She just…assumed, and I never corrected her.”

“That’s still lying.”

“You really think I should go in there and tell her the truth?” His voice dripped with frustration.

“Yes. She deserves to know.”

“You know why I never told her? Because I knew this shit would happen, she’d get jealous and try to push you out of my life. If I tell her now, she’ll make me choose between the two of you.”

“Do you blame her?” you asked, astounded at how Oscar could be so clueless.

“Seriously?” he retorted. “You think she’s justified in doing all this to you? The entire reason she’s mad is because she knows if she tries to make me choose, I’m not choosing her.”

“Don’t say that! Oscar, she’s your girlfriend. You should love her.”

“I do. But things just…aren’t the same anymore. It’s like she wants me to change my whole life for her. I can’t do that.”

Unbeknownst to you, Lily got up from the bed and walked to the door, pressing her ear to it, where she could faintly hear you and Oscar arguing. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Oscar continued. “And if you don’t want her to split us up, just let me handle it.”

“Oscar, she deserves better than this. I’ve missed spending time with you, but… you’ve got to tell her the truth.”

Lily opened the door. “I knew it,” she said, her eyes full of tears. “I knew you were cheating.”

Your eyes were wide as dinner plates as Oscar cursed to himself. “Lily, I swear to God that is not what happened—”

“Don’t. Don’t even try,” she said, but Oscar pushed his way back into the room anyway. He looked back to you, and even without words, you knew it was time to go. You needed some sleep.

Unfortunately, Oscar would not be getting any sleep tonight. 

“Oscar, just stop lying to me! I’m tired of this!’ Lily cried, curling her legs to her chest as she sat on the bed.

“Lily, I swear, I have never cheated on you. What YN and I were talking about was something from a long time ago.”

“We’ve been together for five years!”

“Can I just explain myself? Please?”

Lily just broke down in sobs. “Do whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

Oscar sighed. “Look, I…I have lied to you. You weren’t my first. YN was.” He looked at his girlfriend, who was still just silently crying. “It was before we even met, and it was just once, and we’ve never done anything since. I would never cheat on you, I love you and—”

“When and where was it?” Lily asked, cutting him off with her statement more like a command than a question.

“The December before we met, when I came home for Christmas.”

“In your bed?”

He nodded.

“Oscar, I slept in that bed next to you the other night.”

He said nothing. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Haven’t I been good to you?”

“Lily, I promise, I love you more than anything.”

“Then why would you lie to me for five years?”

Oscar took a deep breath and said, “Because I was afraid you would be upset. People don’t understand that me and YN are just friends. I mean, we were raised together, she’s like my sister.”

“You had sex with her. You took each other’s virginity.”

“It wasn’t…like that.”

“How can it not be like that? Do you even hear what you’re saying?” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

About an hour after you left, you heard a knock on your hotel room door, and you answered. It was, of course, Lily. 

“Tell me whatever Oscar wouldn’t,” she said. Her eyes were still puffy and red. 

You welcomed her in, beginning to tell her the entire truth. “Oscar and I had sex when we were 18, before he met you. We never talked about it afterwards. After you met I didn’t want to bring it up, I just assumed he’d do the right thing and tell you. I didn’t want to pry into your relationship.”

So, your stories matched. And Lily knew that you were nothing if not honest. 

“Do you love him?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.”

“No, I mean, are you in love with him?” 

You didn’t answer immediately. What were you supposed to say?

Tears fought their way to the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I don’t know,” you began, but that was a lie, you did know. “I guess…I have a special type of love for him. We grew up together. When we were younger, yes, I wanted to be his girlfriend. But then he met you, and… Lily, he was so happy! I just…I realized that I wanted him to be happy more than I wanted him to be mine. So I made peace with the fact that this is how it had to be.”

Lily was overwhelmed with your honesty, in the face of so much deception. 

You continued, “I don’t blame you for being upset at me. Oscar should have been honest about what our friendship was like from the very beginning instead of lying to you. But I swear, we haven’t done anything while you all have been together. I’ve been cheated on and I know how much that hurts, I would never do that to anyone else. I’m so sorry it ended up like this.”

“No,” Lily said, “You’re the only one who’s been honest with me throughout all of this. Thank you.”

After that, you hadn’t heard from Oscar after that for a long time. Or, at least, a few weeks felt like a long time to you. But you had other pressing matters—your workload was through the roof with Oscar’s wins. Lando had snatched himself a win too, setting up an early battle for the championship. It was too early into the season to call it, but you knew Oscar was feeling the pressure with the possibility of his first championship dangling so close in front of him. So you kept your distance, not wanting to be a distraction.

That was, until he called you, saying just those three painful words.

“Lily left me.”

The sun was cresting over the horizon, illuminating the thick glass of your balcony and flooding light into your living room. You hadn’t gotten an ounce of rest. 

From your bedroom, you could hear Oscar snoring. You just let him sleep. 

God knows you both needed it. 

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 6 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 5.3k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! this chapter contains brief mentions of blood and minor injuries

It was like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t stop hurting you.

You were only under for a second, maybe less, your lifejacket doing its job, and yet somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let you drown. 

There wasn’t much logic to it. It wasn’t as though he had emptied the jet ski of all its gas, or that he somehow had control over the weather. 

Technically, none of this was his fault, yet he felt the guilt burn in his chest like he’d swallowed hot coals.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The second your head emerged, you let out a scream, the salt water in your fresh cut sending hot sparks of pain up your leg.

“Fuck, ow!” You cried, reaching for the jet ski with shaky hands, in so much pain you couldn’t even find it.

“Ohhh baby, are you okay?” Rafe grabbed your hand, squeezing tight as he pulled you towards him in the water, his other arm tethering you both to the jet ski.

“I think I’m bleeding,” you clung to his shoulder, your fingers digging in probably too tight, but the pain was so overwhelming you needed to put it somewhere. He didn’t mind, desperate to take it away however he could.

“Here climb up,” he said, grabbing your waist and boosting you. “The water can’t be helping.”

“Shit,” you both said in unison when you finally got onto the jet ski and revealed the cut on your calf, wider than you thought and bleeding angrily.

“Just hold on, I got you,” he assured, beginning to kick rapidly to start moving the jet ski toward the shore. 

You were scared the whole time, never once taking your eyes off of him. Asking him over and over again if he was okay until you were sure he was sick of it. But not once was there even a hint of agitation in his voice as he promised you he was fine, that you were almost there, that everything was gonna be okay.

His words didn’t do much to convince you, your face flooding with worry when you noticed his breaths getting more strained.

“I’m okay,” he swore to you, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. “We’re almost there.”

It was starting to rain and the thunder was growing louder, there was no argument to be made that you could keep floating safely in the ocean. You resigned to let him keep going, but your eyes never left him, as if it was your appreciation keeping him afloat instead of his lifejacket.

“Thank you,” you said for the fifteenth time.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling with the motion, the expression entirely too joyful for the grim situation you found yourselves in.

“What?” You scoffed, poking his hand with your toe playfully.

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” he explained.

The drizzling rain was chilly, but your body was on fire. You opened your mouth to reply, despite the utter lack of words in your mind, but the sight of your sister appearing in the distance pulled your attention away.

The group that gathered at the dock’s edge was not the happy-go-lucky bunch of friends you’d arrived with a few hours ago.

The dock was only a few yards away now, you were close enough to see Carter slumped on the ground, Topper’s arms around her, pulling her into a comforting hug. As Rafe swam you closer, it became more apparent that she was crying. 

“There she is!” Tom shouted, motioning to you.

Carter stood quickly, nearly knocking Topper over, waving her arms in the air frantically like she was trying to land a plane. You waved back, heart aching at the sight of her red, puffy eyes. 

“We’re okay!” You yelled through the rain, trying to ease her worry as the jet ski approached. 

You looked down at Rafe who could hear the commotion but not see it.

“We’re almost there, they’re all waiting for us,” you filled him in.

As the front of the jet ski neared the group, Topper leaned over the side of the dock to pull you the rest of the way in. 

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, where have you been, are you crazy?!” Carter paced the dock, a wild look in her eyes as she scolded you.

“I’m fine!” You assured her. “We just ran out of gas.”

“We?” She questioned, hands on her hips.

Once Topper had secured the jet ski to the dock, Rafe swam around to the side, revealing himself to the group.

“What the hell? Where’s Kelce?” Carter questioned.

You knew she must really be upset. When she went into worried-mom-mode, her already limited inclination for politeness went completely out the window.

“Can someone help him up please?” You corrected her. “And get him a blanket or something?”

“I’ve got a couple in my trunk!” Topper said, before running to the marina parking lot.

“I’m fine,” Rafe calmed you with a soft smile as he lifted himself onto the back of the jet ski.

Before he could climb onto the dock, fully planning to help you up next, Tom reached out his hand to you.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked. You could feel Rafe’s posture stiffen next to you.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You accepted his hand, only due to the fact that you actually did need help with the big step off the jet ski.

The moment your feet were steady on the dock, you pulled your hand from his and turned back to make sure Rafe made it onto solid ground. When he did, you made your way to Carter’s side, pulling her into a hug.

“I thought something happened…” she mumbled into your shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you soothed her. “Rafe saved me.”

She pulled back from you, sniffling as she eyed him over your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she told him quietly.

“I didn’t do a great job,” he said shakily, looking down at your leg. “You’re still bleeding.”

“You’re bleeding?!” Carter turned you around, inspecting you for injury.

You laughed as she spun you frantically, “it’s just a little cut on my leg.”

She leaned down to inspect it further, eyebrows knit with concern. “I told Topper we should’ve called 911.”

You placed both hands on her shoulders, “Car, I’m fine. It’s just a scrape, it’ll be gone by tomorrow. I’m sorry we scared you, though.”

“You did,” she pouted.

Topper came running back, huffing from his hurry. 

“I could only find one,” he extended the blanket in his hands to Rafe, who obviously needed it more.

Rafe took the blanket from him and opened it up quickly, but instead of dragging it over his own shoulders, he wrapped it around you.

“You should take it,” you tried to stop him.

“Nah,” he waved you off, running his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “We need to get you dry before Carter calls the Coast Guard.”

For a full ten seconds, your group stood in the rain, everyone’s eyes on someone else, the tension in the air telling an entire story to some invisible audience.

Carter looked at you, concern wrinkling her forehead as she wondered what really happened after she went to bed last night. 

Topper looked at Carter, wondering if her investment in your love life meant she’d forgotten all about the intimate hug they’d shared on the dock waiting for you to return.

Tom looked at Rafe, wondering if it was this joker’s fault you’d rejected him the night before and feeling the hot flame of competition ignite in his chest.

Sabrina looked at Tom, wondering when boys had started looking at you like that and how to get him to look at her instead.

Rafe looked down at you, and you looked up at him, both wondering if the other was thinking the same thing: there’s so much more to say.

“Ahem,” the jet ski owner cleared his throat, pulling you all from your thoughts. “Need the keys back if you don’t mind.”

Carter handed him the first two keys, and Rafe fumbled in his pocket for yours.

“You should really be checking the gas tank before you just send people out there,” Rafe snapped at him, tossing him the key. “You sent her out with an empty tank, she could’ve been seriously screwed, man. No way to run a business.”

“Maybe you should teach your girl how to drive so she doesn’t drain the tank,” the guy snapped back. “Not my fault she’s a ditz.”

Rafe stepped toward him in one long stride, chest puffed out and tension brewing in his flexed jaw that ran all the way down his neck.

“The fuck did you just say?” Rafe grabbed him by his collar, pulling the guy up towards him as he glared at him. 

You looked helplessly to Topper, who hurried to pull Rafe’s hand off the guy’s shirt. Topper was an expert at intervening before Rafe did things he couldn’t undo, and you were grateful he was here. Still, there was a small part of you that selfishly wanted to know what he’d do next, how far he’d go to defend your honor.

“Okay, okay,” Topper said. “Let’s just go, bro. It’s over.”

Rafe fought against Topper’s pull for a moment, staring daggers at the jet ski guy, who was chuckling smugly. When the guy’s eyes darted to you, he pulled his arm from Topper’s grip and made to move towards him again.

“Rafe,” you said softly.

His head turned to you, and the tension in his shoulders loosened. You shook your head ever so slightly, eyes urging him to back down. He nodded once and his hands, which had been balled into fists, flexed open as he let his anger go.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

As soon as you made it back to the house, you peeled your wet bathing suit off and climbed in the shower, eager to get your weary body into the warm water and let the sea wash down the drain. Carter had announced plans on the car ride back from the marina to go out to some clubs this evening, and you were far from dance floor ready.

For just a moment, the hot water felt incredible, until it made its way to your cut. You yelped and stepped out of the hot stream quickly. 

Typically, you would’ve thought responsibly enough to cover the cut before getting in the shower, but your mind was too foggy with thoughts of Rafe. You pulled on some clothes and padded down the hall to Carter’s room.

The knock on the door sparked a flurry of commotion behind it. Hushed voices echoed from under the door frame.

“Just a second!” Carter shouted to you, voice muffled.

“Oof!” A deeper voice said, the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.

Your lips twisted in a knowing smile. You didn’t need the door to swing open to know who you were hearing in the room. Carter and Topper were clearly tangled up in something before you interrupted.

Confirming your suspicion, the door swung open and Topper stood in front of you, his shirt on backwards from being pulled on in a hurry.

“Do I have the wrong room?” You smirked.

“I was just, uh, helping Carter with something,” he fumbled to explain.

“Oh? What were you helping her with?” 

“Her bed is, uh, broken.” 

You laughed, standing on your tiptoes to call over his shoulder and into the room, “just wanted to see if you have any Band-Aids?” 

“No,” she responded from somewhere under the mess of blankets on her bed. “But I can come help you find some.”

“Oh no,” you said. “You stay here and work on that…broken bed.”

Topper gave you a thankful smile and you winked at him.

“Make good choices!” You called, turning from the door.

“Too late!” Carter sang back.

You checked a few of the other bathrooms before wandering to the kitchen. One hand on the counter, and the other reaching as high as it could, you tried to boost yourself up. The flex of your calf as you jumped stretched the skin around your cut, making you wince. 

“Fuck,” you grumbled to yourself. “Let’s get jet skis they said, it’ll be fun they said…”

You tried to jump again, reaching for the high cabinet, the only one in the kitchen you hadn’t checked yet. You could’ve sworn you’d seen a first aid kit around here somewhere. You jumped again, the effort still fruitless.

“Need some help?”

You turned fast, startled by the revelation that you weren’t actually alone.

Rafe was standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the banister with his arms crossed. His hair was damp, clearly just out of the shower himself. You weren’t looking at his hair, though.

He was covered only by a pair of checkered boxers and the towel flung carelessly over his shoulder. His torso was long and rigid, more defined than you had first noticed on the beach the other day. The hard ridges of his abs cast shadows on the plane of his stomach, your eyes danced over them, down to the deep V that disappeared below his waistband.

“What are you looking for?” His words were casual, as if he didn’t notice you staring, but the crooked grin etched on his face told a different story.

“Band-Aids,” you told him, your voice so feeble it did nothing but further reveal your captivation with the sight of him.

The smirk and all its playfulness fell from his face as his eyes filled with concern. 

“Are you still bleeding?” 

“No, I just need to cover it so I can shower. I’m thinking I should probably get the seaweed out of my hair if we’re going out.”

“Y’know if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. I’d stay back with you,” he offered.

Your eyes fell from his, shuffling your feet uncomfortably, he stumbled over his words to reassure you, “we don’t have to, like, hang out. Just if you’re tired and you’d rather stay in and read or something that’s cool. I would stay down here.”

“You don’t want to hang out with me?” You raised your eyebrows in mock offense.

You were messing with him now, you probably shouldn’t be, but watching him run circles around himself to say the right thing was too fun.

“That’s not what I- I just,” he stuttered. “Here, can you just let me help you?”

He was across the room quick, your bodies close enough to touch for the first time since the dock. He smelled like soap, and something else undefinable and sweetly nostalgic. He reached up, his long frame barely needing to stretch to reach the cabinet above you.

“Doesn’t look like there’s any in here,” he informed you, tall enough to see what you couldn’t. 

“You sure?” You didn’t know why you were questioning him, your flustered state made you defensive.

“You’re welcome to keep jumping to try and see for yourself,” he stepped back to give you space to try again. “You were so close.”

“Don’t be mean,” you smiled.

“I’m serious! It was very cute,” he dropped casually.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked back at him. Despite all his genuine actions today, you couldn’t help but feel suspicious of his intentions.

”What?” He questioned, sensing your hesitancy. 

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that today,” you pointed out, “It’s just kinda weird hearing you say it.”

“I mean it’s not like I’ve never called you cute before,” he reasoned.

“You haven’t,” you said definitively.

“I’m sure-“

“You haven’t. I would remember, believe me.”

You crossed your arms, hands cradling your elbows, feeling like a raw nerve. Rafe took a cautious step toward you, ducking his head slightly to draw your eyes to his, making sure you were listening when he said,

“Just because I didn’t say it doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

You instinctually stepped back, his words a little too close to a confession for your comfort. When you pulled away, the back of your leg hit the kitchen counter, making you flinch at the pain of your cut rubbing against the wood.

“I have some waterproof band aids in my room,” he mumbled, his low voice making you wonder for just a second if he really did have them or if this was just a sly way to get you to his room. Sensing your doubt, he doubled down with, “no, honest, I brought a whole first aid kit.”

Convinced, you followed him down the stairs to his basement bedroom. His bed was still pulled away from the wall, but it had seemingly dried. His belongings were strewn about, his book bag unzipped and overflowing with books and papers. You clocked the curious sight, but stayed silent, preoccupied by your sudden aloneness and his half-naked body.

Rafe dug through his suitcase for a moment until, sure enough, he pulled out a bright orange case with a little red cross on the front. You couldn’t help your smile.

“In your boy scout era?” You teased him.

“I’ve been on enough trips with Topper and Kelce to know you should always be prepared for the worst,” he chuckled.

“Ah, little did you know, I was gonna be the worst you needed to prepare for.”

“You? No, you’re the best part of this trip.”

Your throat tightened.

“Oh, really? It’s not your dungeon bedroom?” You pivoted.

“Yeah, I should probably get used to that mildew smell,” Rafe scoffed. “Gonna be living in my parents basement if I don’t pass this summer class.”

He motioned to his backpack, the mystery finally solved. He’d been doing school work down here. Summer classes, surely the answer to his not-graduating problem.

“What are you taking?” You inquired.

“Statistics. I need one more math credit and I just can’t…” he shook his head with self-loathing. “I mean, you know better than anyone. I’ve never been good at math.”

“I don’t think your problem was so much that you weren’t good,” you reasoned. “I think it was more about not applying yourself.”

“Well I’m applying myself now and I still feel like the textbook’s written in another language, so what does that mean?”

“Maybe that you just need some help,” you shrugged.

You could tell he was struggling with himself, and you were overcome with the desire to ease his worry. There are worse things a man can be than bad at math. But with Rafe, things were always all-or-nothing. One flaw meant the whole batch must be bad. 

You felt the urge to jump into tutor-mode and do the hard work for him, but you knew once you crossed that bridge into such familiar territory, there’d be no going back.

Rafe didn’t seem to share your concerns about repeating the past.

“Help from you?”

The way he leaned in when he said it would be almost imperceptible to anyone else, but you’d studied him long enough to notice even the slightest movement. You could feel the air between you tighten, like a rubber band stretching as far as it could go. You broke eye contact before it had the chance to snap.

“Or, like a tutor?” You suggested, reaching for the first aid kit in his hands. “Do they have those at Chapel Hill?”

“They do,” he stepped closer anyway, hand brushing yours as he handed it to you. “But I’d rather have you.”

You cleared your throat, ignoring his attempt to flirt. You decided not to go down this road with him, afraid it would lead to another dead end. 

He watched you dig through the kit for an appropriately sized Band-Aid, fighting the urge to ask if he’d said something wrong. Before he could, you leaned down and attempted to line up the adhesive with your cut, struggling to twist and reach the back of your leg.

“Here, let me.”

Fingers brushing yours, he took the Band-Aid and kneeled down in front of you, one leg under him, one propped up. His hand found your ankle and he guided your leg up so your foot rested on his knee. 

Clouds of foggy attraction swirled in your eyes as you looked down at him. He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on unwrapping the Band-Aid. You zeroed in on his fingers, long and slender, leading to vein rippled hands that worked diligently to ease your pain. It was enough to knock someone over, but you weren’t going anywhere with his strong thigh holding you up. 

“Since when are you such a gentleman?” You quipped, your decision not to flirt with him thrown out the window at the sight of him on his knees in front of you.

He smiled that satisfied, crooked grin as he gently placed the Band-Aid over your healing cut, “I’m trying.”

He brushed over the edge of the Band-Aid, smoothing it into place with a firm swipe of his thumb. You dreaded the moment he would stand again. As if he could read your mind, he delayed it, his hand lingering on your calf. 

Completely breathless, you watched him consider his next move. For a moment, you thought he was going to let his hand continue to run up your leg, but he stopped himself, bringing it back to your ankle and returning your foot to the ground.

When he stood and looked down at you, he was surprised by the pout of your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “You just looked so cute down there.”

Rafe rolled his eyes playfully.

“Thought you didn’t like that word.”

“I don’t remember saying that,” you countered.

“You just don’t like it when I call you cute, then?” 

There it was again, evidence of his genuine desire to understand you. The rubber band tightened again, but this time, it was in your stomach, his sincerity drawing you to him helplessly.

“There’s just so many better things you could call me,” you flirted.

“Yeah?” Excitement coursed through you at his breathy tone. “Like what?”

“My name would be a good start.”

Voice still low, so deep you could feel it more than hear it, he uttered your name. It rolled off his tongue, smooth like honey dripping from his parted lips. The syllables came out with the faintest breath, brushing over your face as the sound swept over you.

Lip tucked between your teeth, you looked at his mouth, as though you could will more soothing sounds to fall from it. As you stared, his lips got closer to you, close enough to touch yours-

“Yo Rafe!”

The sound of Topper’s voice from the top of the stairs startled you so much, you knocked into his bedside table.

“What?” Rafe barked in the direction of Topper’s voice, his harsh, irritated tone in such stark contrast with the sweet way he’d just spoken to you.

“Just letting you know we’re leaving in like an hour,” Topper said.

“Okay?” Rafe snipped.

Topper grumbled something along the lines of “so fucking testy today” as he closed the door, none the wiser to your presence in the basement.

Rafe turned to you, eyes searching your face for a sign he could recover the moment that was so abruptly interrupted. You didn’t meet his eyes. A nervous, pink blush kissed the tips of your cheeks and washed down your chest. The thought of Topper seeing what you were almost doing brought you crashing back to reality. Twice today you had almost let him kiss you, the steel backbone you’d come into this trip with feeling more like glass with every second you spent with him.

“I should probably go start getting ready then,” you said, making your way toward the stairs.

“Right, yeah,” he agreed, defeated.

“Thanks for the Band-Aid.”

“Anytime,” he said. “Anything.”

He stood at the bottom of the stairs as you climbed them. When you reached the door, you opened it just a crack, peeking out of it with paranoid eyes, making sure no one saw you sneak out of his room.

Regret hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t even be mad that you were so desperate not to be seen in close quarters with him, because it was exactly the look he’d have on his face when he used to climb out of your car in the school parking lot.

This must be how you felt. He wished for a time machine so he could knock out his teenage self the way he almost knocked out the guy on the dock today. Anyone who made you feel as shitty as he did right now deserved it.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Finally able to take a painless shower, you took your time under the hot stream of water. Carter sat on the bathroom floor, knees drawn to her chest as you recapped the crazy day.

“I literally thought you might be dead,” she explained.

“How long were we even gone? Half an hour?” You laughed lovingly at her dramatics.

“Are you serious?” 

“What, was it more?” You thought over the time you’d spent with Rafe on the water, in your mind it had flown by fast. Too fast. 

“We got back to the dock a full two hours before you showed up on your Rafe-drawn carriage,” she informed you.

You laughed heartily at the image, your cheeks tinting pink, though you told yourself the flush was just from the hot water.

“What did you guys do out there for two hours anyway?” She asked, not a fan of how silent you’d gone at the mention of Rafe’s name. 

“We just talked,” you said. 

It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like an incomplete truth.

“About?” She pried.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “just, like, life and stuff.”

She snorted skeptically.

“What?”

“I just can’t picture Rafe Cameron having any kind of deep thoughts about life is all,” she explained.

“Well, he’s different now, I guess,” you said feebly.

“Is he though?”

That silenced you. She had a fair point, you had only been talking to Rafe again for a few days, and most of that time was spent with him asking questions about you. You didn’t know him at all really, at least not as well as you used to, not enough to make judgment calls on his character.

Yet there was this instinct that had never really gone away. An invisible tether that connected you to him in a way you’d never experienced with anyone else. He was your sixth sense, you just knew him. You always had.

“I’m gonna go grab my makeup bag,” Carter exited the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

A few moments later, she reentered the room. You felt the words deep in your chest, and even though you knew she may not like them, you needed to let them out.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Rafe meandered upstairs, looking for Topper’s room so he could borrow a shirt. He hadn’t really packed any going out outfits, picturing himself planted on the beach the whole week. The day he packed felt like a lifetime ago, he had no idea the rollercoaster this trip would turn into. 

Down the hall, the bathroom door was open a crack, steam pouring from it as someone showered. Surely, whoever was in there didn’t intend to leave it open. He made his way towards the door to close it, but stopped short when he heard your familiar voice coming from the shower. He knew he should close the door and walk away, but your words glued him in place.

“I have to be honest with you,” you said. “I know I should hate him, but I don’t. I don’t think I’ll ever hate him.”

Rafe’s heart raced, an optimistic smile spreading across his face. He prayed that he was the ‘him’ you were referring to.

“The sad thing is, if he asked me to, I’d still give him anything he wanted,” you chuckled, surprised by your own words. “If he wanted me, I think I’d be with him.”

He’d never do it, but he seriously considered barging right into your shower and telling you “I want you, you have no idea how badly I want you.” 

But the fantasy was cut short.

“I think I’d hate myself the whole time, though,” you confessed quietly.

At that, he actually did close the door, heart sinking, wishing he could dissolve into the floor.

His whole life, people found it hard to love him. They may not say it to his face, but he picked up on more than people thought. He exhausted his family, his irresponsibility and impulsivity were a pain to them since he was a kid. He disappointed his father, he knew he wasn’t the heir to the Cameron throne Ward had hoped for. And he’d fumbled you completely, the best friend he ever had. 

Since then, everything he did was out of self-protection. He ghosted girls at school before they got the chance to reject him, he didn’t reply to texts from friends for fear of being ignored first. He picked fights and pushed people away, running from rejection like a monster in the dark.

But this week, for just a moment, he thought maybe he could finally stop running. He thought maybe he’d finally found something that was worth the risk. He had never felt so safe, so seen, as he did today when you were talking to him. 

Then your words shook him from his delusions. He could handle his family’s disappointment and his friends’ exasperation. But your resentment? Knowing that being with him made you hate yourself? He just could not afford it. He wouldn’t survive it.

Closing the bathroom door had a finality to it, the click of the handle a sign of a decision made. He would stop pursuing you. He’d get through this trip, graduate school, and finally move on. If not for his sake, for yours. He was bad for you. You knew it, Carter knew it, he knew it. For your sake and his, he decided to let you go.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The Ubers arrived around nine. The boys were showered, dressed, and ready by 8:30, chilling on the couch watching baseball and drinking their pregame beers. Topper kept an eye on his phone, watching the little cars get closer to the house.

���Ride’s almost here and they’re really not ready,” Topper sighed.

“Did you really expect anything else?” Kelce threw back another beer.

“Wanna take it easy tonight, man?” Rafe recommended, no one needed a reminder of the damage Hurricane Kelce had caused the last time he was shitfaced.

“No, actually, I don’t,” Kelce laughed.

Rafe reached across the couch, Topper ducking out of the way of his swift arm as he snatched the beer from Kelce’s hand.

“I’m getting you some water,” Rafe said. “I’m not babysitting your drunk ass all night.”

Rafe stood over the kitchen sink, filling a glass for Kelce. The water rose over the cup’s edge and overflowed onto his hands, but he didn’t even notice. He was lost in thought, thinking about your cry after falling off the jet ski, your lip pulled between your teeth when he almost kissed you, your words in the shower…

“Thirsty?” He heard you say behind him. 

He turned to look at you, nearly dropping the glass.

Rafe was resolved. He couldn’t risk the sting of your rejection, and he couldn’t afford the price of your resentment. There would be no more chasing you, no moves made, no plays attempted. It was settled, he was done.

Then he saw you in that fucking dress. 

(Chapter 6: part two)

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

a/n: oops another two part chapter cause the word count got away from me againnnn :) will try my best to post pt 2 this weekend!

and if I wrote a bonus blurb about what happened in Carter’s bedroom what then? A smutty little Carrot Top side quest? How would we feel about that?

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[aakeysmash]

christmas shopping, matching pajamas and family discounts

college!sukuna masterlist

"Why are we here again?" college!sukuna huffs from next to you for the umpteenth time.

"Stop acting like a little bitch. You asked me that 20 seconds ago, Yuuji is acting better than you," you hiss out, glaring at him. It's true though: the kid is trotting right in front of you two, not a care in the world, while his caretaker is currently dragging his feet on the pavement you're walking on.

"And you still didn't answer, fucker," he barks back, grimacing, kicking a little rock.

"Yes, I fucking did! I told you this morning we were going Christmas shopping! You never listen to me," you start, jutting your lip out and trying to play the victim. You know he hates it when you do it. "Maybe I should tell Yuuji how his big brother hates the idea of going shopping with him," you provoke, whispering so that only you and him know what you're talking about. He scoffs, offended.

"Liar. Don't you fucking dare-"

"Are you two fighting again?" whines Yuuji, turning around and pouting. You and Sukuna glance at each other before shaking your head at the same moment.

"No, we're getting along so well," you force yourself to smile.

"Yeah, she said she's so glad I'm accompanying her. Matter of fact, she said she's going to offer us lunch," Sukuna continues, an evil glint in his eyes when he hears you gasp.

"I did not-"

"Really?! Yippie!" screams Yuuji, coming to hug you violently. You stumble back, gritting your teeth, and reciprocate the hug while narrowing your eyes at the grinning tattooed man in front of you. He knows you're not able to say no to his brother.

When Yuuji runs inside the mall, you push Sukuna's shoulder, mumbling "bitch". He just chuckles, then boldly gets you close by placing one open hand on your lower back. You know he's just going to tease you, so you put both hands on his chest to fight back, trying to put some distance between you two, but the place is crowded and everyone is looking at you. A woman passes by you and looks at you weirdly, so you stop wriggling in his grasp, and he delicately pushes you even closer. You're chest to chest, his breath fanning over your features, grin ever present on his face, enjoying how you look pissed out of your mind. From the outside, it looks like you're hugging each other, when in reality he just puts his mouth on your ear to utter "Never play with me, baby. I know how to drive you mad," then frees you and walks behind Yuuji with his hands in his pockets, not turning back to see if you're following him or not. You're seething.

"Oh my God, Yuuji, look at these!" you swoon over a pair of pajama pants. They're a soft brown, decorated with little green Christmas' trees and little reindeers, a bright red Merry Christmas! on both knees.

"It's a set!" squeals the kid next to you, grabbing the sweater right on top of the piece of cloth you have in your hands. You both notice at the same time that the set comes both in adults' and kids' sizes. "Can we take it?" he asks you looking up, puppy eyes activated. Your heartstrings are pulled so tight you feel like you could implode if you look at his face for a second longer.

"Of course we can, I thought it was obvious," you say excitedly, grabbing his hands and jumping up and down with him in a circle while he laughs, smile on full display and brown eyes squeezed shut happily.

Sukuna, who has kept watching his phone for the majority of the time you've been inside the mall, raises his gaze when he hears your laugh mingled with his brother's. If you had been looking at him in that instant, you would've seen the brief soft glimpse that passed on his whole face when he took in how happy you both looked together. When you turn around, though, he's already schooled his features to appear bored.

"Are we done?" he yawns.

"Would you like to match with us?" you ask him, at the same time. You scowl and he scoffs.

"Hell no, girl. I'm not with whatever stupid shit y'all are doing," he says, trying to act tougher than what he actually feels like. Seeing you being kind to the only person in the world who shares 100% of his genes makes him feel things he doesn't want to acknowledge right now.

"You're a party pooper, 'Kuna," Yuuji mumbles, frowning. "Can we still match? I really want us to match," he adds, shily, looking at you. You're shocked. His cheeks are getting redder the more you gawk at him. "Sorry, you can say no-"

Your kiss on his cheek resonates all around the ally you're currently staying in. "Of course I want to match with you. We don't need your evil brother, Yuuji. Let's go try them on," you sweetly say, taking his hand and walking away from Sukuna, not before flipping him off. Yuuji is so giddy that he follows you like he's walking on clouds, his face slightly hurting from how hard he's cheesing.

Sukuna just stands there, baffled and even a little offended. He stiffens, noticing he still has his phone in his hands. He's so fast with it he's the first to remain shocked by his own actions: he hears the click of his camera and looks at the pic he's just taken, feeling his chest heavier than it's ever been. It's a beautifully taken pic, where you and Yuuji are squinting at each other, hand in hand, laughing. He turns off his screen, shakes his head and catches up to you. You're going to give him a headache if you continue being like this. Or a heart attack. Or both.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" the nice old lady at the checkout says.

"Hi, we'd like to take these two pieces," you kindly respond, handing her the pajamas you and Yuuji just tried on.

"Let me see... oh, we actually have a family discount on this! Is the daddy not going to take anything?" she innocently asks, looking over at your older roommate.

"Yo, I'm not his-"

Your eyes almost fall out of your sockets. "Ah ah ah! Silly us! We forgot his one! Just give me a second," you interrupt a scowling Sukuna, covering his mouth with your hand before he can finish his sentence, dragging him away. Yuuji gives the old lady a confused look, to which she responds with "Young parents these days," shaking her head.

"You're going to take the fucking matching set, Sukuna, and you're going to like it," you seethe, still dragging him away (well, it's more like he's letting you drag him away). You hear how he's trying to talk behind your hand. "Don't piss me off. I'm going to pay less to get more, and you're going to listen to me. Go." You ignore him and he raises one eyebrow, looking you up and down, before biting your fingers. You yelp and let him go, scowling. "I said go! And act like you care about me when we get there, we're a family until the discount tells us so!"

"Okay, ma'am," he grins down to you, wiping his saliva from the corner of his mouth with a slow movement, his gaze lingering a bit too much on the way you're panting.

"Move! Take your size and let's go! Yuuji is waiting for us!" you push him, rushing back to the cashier.

"Oh, you were really fast. I thought you were going to argue with the way you rushed away," she says when she sees you come back, surprised. You nervously chuckle, telling her how you were already planning on buying one for Sukuna, you just forgot. "That would be 20.99$."

While you're swiping your card, you suddenly feel engulfed by heat. Sukuna positions his hands on your waist, giving you a half hug from behind while simultaneously giving his best confident grin to the old lady in front of him.

"Yeah. I just like when she bosses me around a bit, if you know what I mean," he says, sultry, winking at the cashier who is chuckling behind her hand, embarrassed, waving him away.

What the fuck? You initially try not to stiffen, then relax and give her a shy smile, and he squeezes you a bit closer. You melt on his chest, feeling hotter than you've felt all day. He's so comfortable. He brushes his lips near your ear and makes sure you hear the way his raspy voice is all around you. "And I do, baby. I really do."

[shrimpybbq]

a missed moment

synopsis: Rafe misses the moment Charlie takes his first steps and is harsh on himself as always.

Charlie was the light of Rafe’s life: anything his son did made him so proud. Every little smile, giggle or ‘dada’ made Rafe grin so widely someone would think he had been possessed. But he wasn’t possessed, instead just so incredibly proud to have his sweet little boy happy and healthy and growing. The love he felt for his son wasn’t something Rafe had ever pictured or believed in, not considering his own father, but now that he had felt it, he never wished to let it go. Rafe did his best to be there for all his son’s milestones, even taking embarrassing photos for when he was older, but it was the one he missed that sent him into a spiral.

Rafe had been spending the day out in Guadeloupe, doing his best to sort out the shit for his dad and spending hours feeling his stress levels rising to a boiling point. All he wanted was to rest in his bed, relax and spend time with his family, and yet he was walking around the island talking about dividends and shares. He wasn’t pleased. Rafe walked through the front door, feeling the tension seep from his body, ready to lie down, only to see his son standing upright, little Charlie’s chunky arms clinging to the side of their couch.

Rafe’s eyes bulged as he watched Charlie turn to him, a large smile overtaking his identical features, the boy letting go of the couch as he took small steps towards his father.

Fuck. He was walking. Walking. He hadn’t been able to do that yesterday.

His girlfriend sat near Charlie, her soft voice encouraging him to ‘keep going to dada’. She gave small claps of encouragement as he moved closer, cheering him on.

Rafe felt his heart squeeze tightly in his chest as his son began to reach his small, chubby arms out to his father, and he could only pick him up, encapsulating the small boy within his own larger arms.

"Good job, buddy," was all Rafe managed to utter, his mind racing at the new development. He turned to his girlfriend, asking quietly "When did he start walking?".

"He started trying yesterday, but this morning he tried to follow you out of the house," his girlfriend responded softly. It was clear to see how Rafe was feeling, him not even bothering to hide the sadness spreading across his features. Rafe had been trying to get Charlie to walk for weeks as his little body grew stronger, but to no avail. And now, he had missed it.

"I should've been here..." Rafe mumbled lowly, "not fucking around doing this shit for my dad." Charlie began to play with the collar on his father's shirt, not sensing the sullen mood of his father. His mother shuffled over towards him, softly stroking his hair as he rested his head against his father's chest. Rafe looked down at his girlfriend before averting his eyes - he felt like she could always see right through him.

"Hey - don't do that. You were doing that to make sure we're going to be safe and looked after. You said that yourself, so don't feel bad about this, ok? This is just one milestone in his life, and he is going to have so many more. You were there when he stood for the first time, and when he said his first word," his girlfriend reassured, her arms now wrapping around Rafe's waist. He let himself embrace her, Charlie joining the hug too.

"I-I know, but what if he remembers this shit and he hat-," Rafe began, only to be quickly cut off.

"Rafe, he's one. He's not going to remember any of this. All he knows is that his parent's love him more than anything, ok?"

Rafe remained tense for a moment longer, before a heaving exhale left his chest. With that, he resolved to let his worries go - his girlfriend was right. He knew his mind was confounding his worries, for he only wanted his son to know he loved him. Rafe never wanted Charlie to question his love for him. Caught up in his thoughts, Rafe didn't notice his girlfriend pulling away from him, her voice redirecting his attention suddenly.

"I need to get his dinner ready. Can you stay with him?"

The blonde nodded, receiving a quick peck on the lips in acknowledgement, before his attention turned to Charlie - his expression brightening as he looked down at his son. "We're gonna practice walking again, aren't we buddy?" he proclaimed, walking them over to the rug again. Rafe watched as his girlfriend laughed as she left the room, her disembodied voice telling them to have fun. Whilst she prepared his dinner, all she could hear were the giggles of a small child and the encouraging statements leaving Rafe. He became a whole new person when he was with his son, and the cheer he let out when Charlie managed to walk towards him again only made the young mother smile to herself, her heart swelling with happiness at the small family the pair had created.

[clandestineloki]

miguel o'hara x shy crybaby housewife!reader

cw: non-graphic mentions of violence, suggestive bit at the end lmk if u want an nsfw of this!!

ok but imagine shy lil missus o'hara who's a stay at home wife while miguel goes off to either alchemax or to fight some bad guys

and miguel comes home stressed all the time but just a touch of her hand on his shoulder grounds him after all that fighting

and miguel is tired but happy, grateful for his little love taking such good care of him :)) giving you a forehead kiss before he goes off to the bathroom, settling in the perfectly warm bath prepared for him before indulging in his little wife's amazing cooking 

but one night when he comes home a little bit more tense than usual

she's very tense

she's heard him yelling at his subordinates over the phone and yelling at dumb-ass cops who get in the way of him stopping some thief

and while miguel has always been soft and kind and gentle with her, she's scared that she'll accidentally do something wrong :((

so miguel walks past her, exhausted, and almost smiles at the smell of dinner

no forehead kiss for her :(( poor baby

sitting at the dining table head in his hands as he mumbles about not getting the chance to grab a snack, let alone a break in spanish

and she knows he's hungry, but she knows his whole body will be aching if he doesn't take a bath to regulate his body temperature

but poor baby doesn't know how to say it without him possibly snapping at her :((

she's standing on the other side of the table nervously fidgeting with the dish towel and finding the right words to say

"y-you... you gotta t-take a bath f-first..."

miguel sighs into his hands. "i know, but im really hungry, cariño..."

"b-but... if you don't... you'll be s-sore..."

he looks up, brows furrowing. "what?"

he was genuinely confused why you seemed so scared of him, but his voice came out a bit more bluntly than he meant it to.

your eyes widen and you look down. "n-nothing," you mumble, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "sorry."

"hey, hey, baby..." miguel stands up, walking over to you and pulling you into his arms. "what's wrong? did i say something?"

"no..." you sniffle, "jus thought i made you mad..."

"no, no, no, i'm not mad," he kisses all over u: your teary eyes, your wobbling lips, your forehead, the tip of ur nose

miguel kisses you deeply and then hugs you close to him. "im not mad, i promise. i'm just so so tired and hungry and the food smelled so good i'm gonna die if i don't get to taste it," he whispers, laughing when you giggle at his declaration.

"the bath can wait," he caresses your cheek with his hand.

"b-but you're gonna get cramps tomorrow if-"

he cuts you off with a big smooch to your face. "it doesn't matter. im staying home tomorrow."

"wh-what?!" you look up at him as he sits down, pulling you into his lap. "but you have work- and- and you're spiderman- and-"

he shakes his head, running his fingers through your hair.

"i'm your husband first, and all that other shit second."

miguel sighs, pulling you closer.

"i know i haven't been taking care of you the way i should be."

before you can interject about how he's doing so much already, he presses a finger against your lips.

"ssh. and alchemax and the cops don't really give a shit about me, can probably last every other day without me there. they'd probably have a field day without this jackass there," he chuckles. "but you, baby, i need to return the favor- ah, ah! let me finish, gatita- return the favor for keeping this place a safe space for me."

a kiss here, a kiss there. "entiendes?"

you nod, hugging him. "just glad you're home," you mumble, nuzzling into his neck.

he spends the rest of that hour enjoying the food you made for him while also feeding you and rattling all about the thugs he stopped that day.

then he pulls you into the bath with him, despite your protests, and laughs as he splashes you with the soapy water, making you squeal and threaten to spray him with the shower nozzle

then the two of you dry up and snuggle in bed, not bothering to put on any clothes. miguel smiles down at you and you smile up at him, before he rolls you on your back and crawls over you to make the sweetest yet roughest love to show you just how thankful he is for having a sweet lil thing like u to come home to <3

(part 2 is here~)

[hoshifighting]

heyy there!!

I was wondering if you could write a fiction where the svt members give a silent treatment to the reader but she is too sensitive and starts crying (because she thinks she doesn't deserve them)

Please feel free to reject it if ur uncomfortable 😚😚

seventeen reaction when you start to cry when they give you a silent treatment

a/n: guyyyys im the worst with angst, but i tried!! 🙏

seungcheol the second you start shaking, he’s up on his feet, crossing the room and pulling you into a tight, crushing hug. he’s warm, solid, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “my fault, my fault, my fault,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “i should’ve been better. i should’ve stopped this. i didn’t mean to hurt you. god, i didn’t mean it.”

jeonghan’s regretting it the whole time. too good at keeping his distance, until he sees the tears running down your cheeks. then, he freezes “hey, hey…” he pulls you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “shit, i’m sorry. you know i was just being stupid, right?” he leans his forehead against yours, brushing his fingers through your hair. “don’t cry, baby. it kills me to see you like this.”

joshua he’s always so gentle, i dont even see him giving silent treatment to someone. he’s instantly at your side, cupping your face in his hands. “please don’t cry. i hate this. i hate that i made you feel like this.” his voice wavers as he presses his lips to your forehead, his touch feather-light. “i love you, okay? i’m so sorry. i should’ve never let it get this far.”

junhui’s been avoiding your gaze, trying to keep the silence going even though it’s killing him. that first broken sob makes him almost freak out, he’s at your side, his hands trembling as he touches your arm. “oh— i— no, don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice in purew panic. he gently pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

hoshi snapd. of course he snaps. he practically flies out of his seat, rushing over to you, arms wide. “oh, shit—no, no, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he blurts out, voice frantic as he wraps you up in the tightest hug, almost lifting you off the ground with how desperate he is. his fingers stroke your back awkwardly, trying to soothe you, and his voice is trembling.

wonwoo when he sees the tears fall, something inside him bursts. he’s not good at dealing with emotions, but he can’t just sit there while you’re crying. he pulls you gently onto his lap, his hand awkwardly stroking your hair. “i’m sorry, i don’t always know how to show it… but i care. a lot. i never wanted to make you cry.” he presses a kiss to your temple, his heart racing. “don’t cry, please. or I will cry too.” wonwoo says—already crying.

woozi stands up, awkwardly hovering for a second before pulling you into a tight hug. “fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispers against your hair. “i didn’t mean to push you this far.” his grip on you tightens, and he rests his chin on your head, letting out a shaky breath. “i can’t stand seeing you like this.” fingers twitching like he’s about to break any second.

minghao crouches down now too, right in front of you. he doesn’t say much at first, just gently tugs your hands away from your face, his touch delicate, like he’s scared to break you even more. “this was stupid, i shouldn’t have done this. it was childish.” he holds your gaze, his eyes serious “you didn’t deserve that.” kisses the back of your hands, laying his head on your knees begging you for forgiveness.

mingyu is already full of shame before you even start crying. but when the sobs hit, he stops dead in his tracks. he rushes to you, kneeling down in front of you. his large hands cup your face, and his thumbs brush away your tears. “fuck, i never wanted to make you cry.” his voice cracks, and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his head buried in your shoulder. looks like he’s about to break down himself.

seokmin gets on his knees beside you, eyes wide and watery, his usual smile completely gone. “my love i—” he says in this tiny voice, like he’s terrified he made everything worse. his hands flutter near your arm before he finally grips your sleeve like he needs you to believe him. “please don’t cry because of me.”

seungkwan’s been fidgeting the whole time, hating every second of the silence. thinking it couldn't get worse until you break in front of him “oh my god,” he blurts out, rushing over to you, his voice frantic. he pulls you into his arms, holding you as tight as he can. he lets out a shaky breath. “you’re everything to me. i’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

vernon is not sure how to fix it, thinking that in all ways, this sucked. the second you start crying, his chest tightens, and he’s at your side, pulling you into his lap. “i’m so so sorry. i didn’t mean to let it get this bad.” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, trying to look into your eyes, pressing his lips into a line when you look away. “i’m here, okay? i’m here.” he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

chan would be standing by the door, but the second you sob again, he’s crossing the room in three big steps, hands flinching to touch you and flinching back at him again as if he would burn you if he did. he would rather sit beside you still in silence, to find the best words since he hasn't talked during this whole time.