#girls playground shades

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo 66' au ! old!serial killer!rafe x young!sugardoll!reader (how they met, and their first night together.)

you were red and you liked me 'cause i was blue. but you touched me and suddenly i was a lilac sky.

warnings : lmfaooo this part always killing me but here it is....rafe being 90% of the warning part and the menace he already is, kidnapping, daddy issues, urge of sexualing your own self, slight of stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, dark!rafe, violence, mentions of threats, r being a missing girl, age gap, size difference, choking. rafe being mean to the reader. slight of daddy kink. sick attitude. dirty talk. attention whore. just minors DNI. (why it's bigger than my grocery list actually...). please carefully pay attention to the tags !!?

author's note : it's my first time writing a dark fic so don't expect too much 🙏🏿 you can read this without watching buffalo 66.

some girls were the trailer park princess, and others the queen of the gas station.

as the girl of the gas station, you were there all day on the road of these men much older than you, who had and drove pretty vintage cars who were literally bigger than you. those rich daddies surely had more money than your poor father who was always sitting behind the desk of his shop waiting for the night.

your father never gave you any attention, not even a look, he didn't care about what you did on your summer days as long as he never saw you. so you stayed all day at your playground queendom across from the pitiful, filthy motel where you lived. because here at least the men were looking at you.

of course they were looking at you, you always gave them something to look at with your tiny dresses that showed your naked thighs, your tits pressed together in that backless top. you always dressed in that soft and milky blue shades. as the sea and the sky, you were blue.

while their wives found you sick, you could feel their stares every time you leaned down to grab the keys that they forgot to give you each time. you could feel their eyes completely charmed by the way your summer dress rode up above your ass, and your panties stuck out.

fully bent over, you could hear the groans of these old men, the way they forced their hands themselves to not touch you when you wanted nothing more than to see them give in to the young temptation that you were.

you had a power in them and you loved to see them completely crazy.

you worked as a gas pump attendant. in reality, you did it behind your father's back because it allowed you to stay in the company of these men who only had eyes for you.

you always put on a show for them, and it always worked because you were irresistible.

but there was this guy every time, a regular customer, cold and short-spoken who never spoke to you.

he had a beautiful and luxurious car and you always wondered what job he did to drive such an incredible vehicle, and to spoil you so much with all this money.

he never said thank you for your service. after all, you were paid for it. his eyes were blue as you. he could park and glare at you for hours, sitting deep in his seat, a cigarette stuck between his opened lips.

he was so much older than you, so much to the point it was indecent. when you had first seen him, you had melted like sugar.

as you were coming back from the ice cream parlor, your lips sucking that delicious vanilla ice cream, you sat on the edge of the gas station, right in front of his car, your legs completely spread, white cream melting and dripping between your thighs. he rubbed his painful boner through his boxer.

you were sick, you let him look at you with this completely perverted stare while you let chunks of ice fall into your cleavage.

his eyes were all over you, but this time it was different, because this time it was him who was thinking about you while touching himself. this time it was him who was sick about you , him who had all these furious ideas about you. he pumped himself so hard, biting his lips harshly. and you continued your depraved show, while he jerked off, his big cock shaked and leaked in his own hand, his thick and already experimented fingers moved around his length faster and faster, the sweaty and dirty sound of his balls slapping, the squeaking noises of his chair, his arched back making the chair shaking. you thought of the veins of his dick engorged of blood pulsated against his hefty strength. that was enough to make you fully wet.

you wanted nothing more than to make this old man reach for you. but the problem was, you were too young and naive to know how mad he was, and what he really wanted to do with a pretty doll like you.

you stood up when you finished your ice cream, putting your dress back on neatly, and leaned down, leaning your porcelain princess arms over his car window.

you shuddered when he spread his cum on your face without any warning, smeared the remains of vanilla ice cream over your sloppy lips gloss with lick of drool.

he pushed his big thumb against your little mouth, pushed it into an o shape, and you closed her to start licking up the drops of his cum.

but like every time he came here, he never spoke to you. you had just seen the car leave, while you still had the taste of him on your lips. it was rude.

the next day, your father sent you out to do some groceries on a sweltering hot summer day, tired of seeing you around doing nothing. what he didn’t know was that this was probably the last time he saw you. and even shoupe that you had seen earlier in the morning, and who had told you to be careful, something with a killer around.

when you were done with the grocery, you started walking through the empty parking lot.

you thought you were alone, even though there were a few empty cars.

but it was a mistake, a terrible mistake that you were going to regret.

“didn't shoupe tell you to be careful this morning, sweetheart ? because i'm pretty sure, he did. ”

you screamed when the man grabbed you by the waist, pressing your little ragdoll body against his chest much stronger. the stranger quickly covered your mouth, and bruised your pretty lips with violence without any caring, shoved down his fingers between them to the point that you almost choked with your own breath and saliva.

“ you hurt..me…! ” you tried to say with a lot of difficulty, as his firm grip crushed against your breasts.

“ not yet actually, doll. but i promise, i will if you continue to fight. so beware, or i will fucking kill you. not a threat, sweetheart. it's a promise. “ and you knew that even god couldn't save you at this time.

you tried to bite him, but your teeth barely touched his skin. his lips hovered above your ear, you could hear his deep older voice warned you.

" bite me one more time, and i will break you. i love wrestle with you little girl, but i think you will really hate the way i fight. because when daddy fight sugardoll, he kills. and tiny things like you are so easy to wreck. and you dont want to die today, right ? you're too young for that. do you got it ? nod if you got it, yes. smart baby, understand easily that she needs to listen and not fucking run away. ”

his strength was heavy. you had stopped resisting a few minutes ago, even when he put you in his car.

he started driving, with a smirk, he looked in the rearview mirror before telling you.

“ what's the matter, sugardoll ? don't want to put a show for me, anymore ? ”

he had taken you to a shitty old motel down the road, where no one would be able to pick you up here. you knew he was intelligent, you knew it because you understood that every time he came to see you, he tried to learn more about you, but not to know you no, but to know when would be the right time to kidnap you. you knew it because he had stalked you carefully.

he had tried to tie you up while you tried to struggle one last time. but he had grabbed your jaw so violently that you felt your face shiver in his hands. “one more move, and i’ll show you how dolls are really treated, how i have no fucking bother to kill a tiny thing like you. ”

“i’m not going to run away.”

"i know.” he shushed you with a sick evil smirk. “ but it's not because you don't want to, sugardoll .but more because you can't.” he said, while releasing your jaw.

“ that's the small but important difference. i kidnapped you. do you even know what it means ? "

you started to cry, tears running down your cheeks.

“ you want a real reason to cry? fine. i can do that for you. i kidnapped you but you want to know the big part of all this? is that no one will come for you. your father doesn't love you , and that's why you work in this stupid gas station. you love the attention of these men so bad that you feel obliged to sexualize yourself to feel desired but me, i wanted you the first time i saw you. i let you do it, i let you play with them, but now it's all over. since i own you, this game is fucking over. ”

“shoupe will come after me ! ”

“but maybe you won’t be around to see it anymore.” he looked at you, and shushed your tears, while staring in your wet eyes. “ yes, i really like when you give me those tears, cry to me, little girl i'm the only men that really got you. ”

you glared at him as if he had fallen from the sky.

“ but now you have to be careful, don’t get on my nerves. i know it's hard for you, but don't do stupid things. ”

he placed your hand on his lower back, where you had felt the metallic coldness of the gun. and you shivered.

"yes, you got it. don't ever get on my nerves.”

“ how can i get on your nerves ? you don't really seems like a bad guy. more like a sweet guy ? ”

“ i'm not. and i'm not trying to be so watch your mouth. “

“ but i really think you are. can i hug you ? ”

“ try it, doll, literally try it. just try to touch me, i dare you. and i bet you will never tell me i'm the sweetest guy again. ”

“ can you at least bathe me ? ” you asked seriously.

“ jesus, do you think i'm your slave or whatever ? do you forget which position you are in ? in the captive one. so do not ask me those stupid things again. and don't try, no, never try to run away because, i can promise you that when i will find you, it will not be a pleasant time for you. and not even a little, but to the point, you will ask me to kill you. and i will be in a mood to accept your request ? yes, me. ”

you nodded as the kind and little girl you are who cannot argue against this tall man. he released your small face, and you were bathing alone. while you were taking your bath, alone in the tub, you heard rafe on the phone without being able to understand what he was saying but after that call, he left the room.

you had decided to buy some food with the little money you had at the food and drink vending machine.

with a happy smile, you went back up, hoping to please him. but you had found him on the chair in front of the TV.

“look, what…”

“i think you’re really nice. but not at your own good, sugar. ”

“ i just wan…”

“ get on the bed, now. ”

he couldn't help but relaxing when he saw how your blue dress was so tiny, already showing your soaked underwear.

" no whining. " he said as he shoved himself deeply in your tight abused cunt, your ragdoll body pressed down in the mattress, his thick stronger arms hugged your small waist, while thrusting harder and harder, your walls clenched around his fat cock. you can felt the size growing bigger in your wettering pussy, as he turned you into a real crybaby, tears flowing down your cheeks. you were caged by his beefy and muscular body on the bed, gasped on the edge. “ you wanted to act like a big girl ? then take it like a big girl. no fucking whining, i'm just giving you what you want. ”

he was literally buried inside you, snapping your hips, moving in and out. the atmosphere was hot, you felt the heat, there were trails of saliva around your mouth. “stop whining babydoll, daddy is not at his worse actually. and you don't want to see this happen.” you wanted to hate him but it was like you appreciated him being so mean to you, your pussy was dripping, your fluids drenching him, your sticky walls surrounded his girth. " yes, that's it. pull up some juices for daddy, make it easier for him to destroy you. "

everytime you runned away from him, he lifted your head with a grunt, and with a wild thrust inside of you, making you drip even more as his glistening tip reached your spot, the dirty and wetness sound of his moves echoed in the room, your body trapped against his taller one.

with a hand on your throat, you were arched to the point where he could see your wetted eyes rolled up. "try to run away again, and you will have the fucking pleasure to be a momma, as well as a missing girl. i'm not asking you to take my cock better.” he said with a threat. “ no, i'm telling you to do it as your fucking job. ”

all teary, you could bet that rafe didn't know how big he was for telling you this. you were trying your best actually. he was rutting in you, holding your tiny size with one big hand, getting so feral everytime he saw your small body twitching when he pushed himself further. your moans were loud, as your squirted more than one time on him, your dripping walls clamped his hard cock. even when your third orgasm flowed against your bulging pussy, creating a mess at the surface, he continued.

" you know sugardoll, you better work faster for my cum, because i will only stop when i will see how creampie your pussy is for my dick.”

he stuffed your puffy messy cunt, while your pumped his fingers who slidded deep down in your throat, your warm and bullied tongue fighting to not dropped them.

you slobbed more with the overstimulation. you felt like this man was insatiable. rafe loved to see you, his sugardoll in pain, taking so much for him.

when he finally stopped teasing you, and fighting himself to not cum, and clearly toying you, he exploded, making you cried out. all your body was filled with spasms.

you expected something from rafe when he pulled out, a little soft spot, or at least, just one look but he just went to the bathroom. alone.

you expected him to be sweet for you, like the sugar you were for him. and you knew, that you will work for this later.

when he came back, you looked at him, always attracted by his charisma, the way he made you felt so tiny by his big size, the way he was old enough to make you feel like a little girl, just the way his raised voice made you feel so small.

“ can i sleep with you ? ”

“ whatever. just don't touch me. ”

“ you're not gonna be my big spoon ? “

“ what the fuck is this ? i'm not gonna be your spoon. jesus, can you just sleep and not ask for any stupid things that you think i will do because you're already so obsessed with me ? and give me your hands. ”

he tied them up on the bed with your little blue ribbon.

“ just in case you think you can escape me. ”

“ i can't sleep like that ! ”

“ i fear it's not my fucking problem, sugardoll.”

“ fine. i will talk and talk all night. ”

“ i can fuck you all the night too. but one of us will not survive this. so stop being so damn annoying. ”

“ what if i want to pee in the middle of the night ? ”

“ you're strong enough to hold it. and you fucking better be strong enough to hold it. ”

“ why are you so mean to me ? why you kidnapped me ? ”

“ sugardoll, listen to me. look at me, yes. eyes on daddy right now. i swear, and you need to listen carefully because i will tell you once, just once, so your dumby brain need to pay attention, if you're talking another time, even if i see your lips moving, just a twitch, i will put my dick right in your mouth, making you suck it for without a break until the sun rises again. and i can promise you that after, you will never talk to me because you will never be able to open that mouth again. do you got it ? nod your head if you got it, doll.”

and you nodded.

as a doll, you were conditionned to listen to your owner, even if he was so mean to you. but you were as soft as sugar, always melted around, already thinking he was the best guy around.

“ sweet dreams, sugardoll. ”

i promise one day i will write something very good, just give me a chance. i think the only sweet thing in this work, it's rafe calling r " sugardoll ", he's so mean please ���😭 i think i make him a little too dark to the point, i'm questionning about how he can be sweet to the reader now ????? but i guess, it's part of the game. tysm @bunnyrafe and @fae-of-prey me a lot !

[cutehoons02]

☆:I’m too clingy with you?*.☽

：(::̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) Hyung Line

* synopsis: (reaction) Do you think i'm too clingy with you?

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

—REBLOG if you enjoyed

HEESEUNG

Heeseung was the classic representation of the boy in the ambivert version, he was extremely extroverted when he was with his friends especially when he had to talk to his fans but at the same time he liked to be alone playing video games in his room, he slept a lot when he had breaks and spent the evenings in the parks scattered around town playing basketball until late at night. You and Heeseung didn’t get along at first but nobody understood why because you had a lot in common about music, to preferred to go out late at night to feel more comfortable, you both loved to try countless restaurants scattered around Seoul, especially the most hidden ones and being an influencer you loved to be in the center of attention but at the same time you wanted to spend more hours with yourself and contact with nature without fans or events.

Heeseung met you at a Prada event and to her misfortune you were a close friend of T/l Jay’s girlfriend. From the first day he saw you, he didn’t like you because he thought you were like most of the rich influencers, brainless and with the desire to have fame thanks to the name of Enhypen but to his surprise, you had never mentioned the name of enhypen and every time you were with T/l you never brought up the subject. You knew that the boy with the eyes of a cervix didn’t like you from the way he looked at you, from the way he’d roll his eyes when he saw you making countless noises to their colleagues but you didn’t care about his judgment and you loved teasing him when you were close; for Heeseung you were a terrible threat because you were beautiful, you had that shy but sexy yet cheeky girl aura towards him and for the most part you teased him flirting with him.

This thing made him crazy because it was always him who flirted with girls at meets and great or events and never girls tried to hit on him so openly as you did with him, he thought most of the work and never had distractions, especially in girls but slowly he could not think about you and every time you posted an ig story on your profile especially with a guy wanted to throw the phone across the room; since he became jealous and possessive of you, when he hated you from the first moment he saw you?

In the last period he had managed to invent lies especially with Jay, because many times he dated you and his girlfriend and Jay realized that slowly the oldest of the group had begun to behave strangely and no more jokes about you, you also realized that Heeseung didn’t go out when you were there or when you were there he didn’t take care of you or was out of his mind.

When fate wanted to meet two people, they always put on and that night you were walking with your aimless headphones without purpose and to astonished there was Heeseung in a playground almost half an hour from his dorm playing to throw the ball into the basket alone. You always had a thing for sportsmen but Heeseung was always beautiful, especially in the last period: he had slightly long hair with purple shades, wore a shirt where you could see his strong arms, the suit pants that wrapped his long legs, and a baseball cap put back to hold the tufts of hair. You didn’t want to disturb him and you looked slightly from a distance for about ten minutes but then as if you were called by a mental and physical attraction you approached him and civilly greeted him without being brazen with him.

"How come you're playing at midnight past and almost half an hour from your dorm there are no basketball courts near where you live? Heeseung looked at you and he overtook you to throw the ball in the basket and with his dismay did not enter and snort "I wanted to change zone and then later it is better of the night, so i have less chance of finding fans crazy and to be able to relax playing basketball. I don't always have so much time to play basketball and it helps me a lot to relax and concentrate on my thoughts that lately don't make me sleep so easily" he glanced at you before running to reach the ball from the other end of the field and you followed him.

"Why can't you sleep? I just asked you that question because i know you have that super cool event tomorrow with that sports brand that organizes the events downtown with the fans and i know you'll have to wake up early" You tried to take the ball out in a clumsy move but Heeseung had really good reflexes and looked at you badly "God what do you want Y/n? You’re so sticky, you’re nosy you can’t go back to your world made of events every day and have no responsibility? You knew that Heeseung despised you but you didn’t think so much, it wasn’t true that you had no responsibility because most of the profits your agency made were thanks to you, and you were a little tired of being told that you did nothing from morning to night and that you had no responsibility

"I’ll leave you alone, i just wanted to have a civil conversation with you but it seems that every time you try to behave like a normal girl you despise me as if i had a rare disease from which you’d want to stay away."

You hated him with all your heart because every time you saw him, your heart was beating slightly faster, every time you heard a song in the convenience store you recognized his voice and started to smile like a girl at her first crush and maybe it was just that a stupid crush for one of the most famous idols. Little tears were running down your face and you hated yourself too because you had never cried for a boy in your life and he was so stupid that you tried every time to be nice to him if every time he did some silly or eye-lifting thing if you did that ig story in his presence.

"Y/n" you heard your name shouting and running Heeseung followed you on the path that led to a small hill where you could see all of Seoul "God why are you walking so fast? Compared to my legs you’re a gnome but you’re a fast sack" you kept walking without paying any attention and after minutes you felt yourself take an arm and Heeseung made you sit in a chair where there were only you and him, and the lights of the busy city under your feet "Fuck angel, i’m so sorry for how i behaved with you i’ve never behaved like that with anyone and..."

"You don’t need to make up all these excuses Hee, you don’t like me it can happen that two people don’t agree so maybe it’s better if i go home" You tried to get up but his strong hands took your hips and put his legs on you "Is so hard when you’re around Y/n, i acted like an asshole to you just because i like you, in the sense that it’s physically but also. Oh my god i have never declared myself to any girl so i'm blabbing in vain, i like you Y/N, at first i found you annoying and sticky with me because you were always trying to tease me but slowly i started feeling jealous when i saw your ig story with other guys, especially when you were so beautiful and smiling with them,i wanted that smile to be for me and not for those people."

"If this is all a joke Heeseung you’re recording for a stupid challenge i’ll kill you, because i like you too" In the last sentence you said in silence and Heeseung pretended not to hear it. "Angel for me this is not a game but i did not hear what you said last!" You rolled your eyes and put your slave in her chest and started playing with the strings of her sweatshirt "I said I like you too, Lee Heeseung" a soft whistle came out of Heeseung’s lips and you felt his lips give you a kiss in the head and then one in your cheek "I like you too,Y/n."

JAY

Jay had always been careful not to cross the line between an affectionate guy and that sticky one but when he did not see you for weeks because of his work as Idol went crazy and wanted to always have you close so he could touch you, kiss you, suck your body and have it all for yourself. None of the enhypen members expected this obsession of Jay for Y/n because it was not just a physical thing but he loved to see you smile when you cooked together dishes from parts of the world that you had not visited, loved watching you play with his black cat in the living room while he tried to play and compose songs in which you were the protagonist and loved seeing all your successes in the work field and was your first fan.

The enhypen members didn’t expect to see you at their dorm door because they had just returned from a mini tour in America and knowing your character you were quite shy and reserved and didn’t spend so much time in the dorm or Jay’s room, but Heeseung smiled at you and let you in their apartment shared "Jay didn’t tell me that you were coming to visit him" Jay and Heeseung knew each other for eight years had always been sure they could debut together but never would have expected to be part of Enhypen one of the most famous groups in the world of kpop.

"I just wanted to give them a little surprise, we haven’t seen each other for almost a month and then lately he’s been acting strange with me, i don’t understand if i did something or maybe he just got tired of me"

Heeseung was seriously impressed by Y/n’s words, Jay loved her so much but he also noticed that it was a little cold when they mentioned Y/n. They always made a lot of video calls and always bought some gifts for her or her family but on that last trip Jay in the evening had always almost always been with the other members and had made very few video calls from what Heeseung remembered and was strange but did not want to worry Y/n.

"Don't think at all about these things, he loves you so much even one day to marry and have a family with you. If he hasn’t called you so many times on these tours it’s because we were in America, the time zone is shit to absorb and then we were always tired and we practiced a lot also because soon comes out the new album"

Y/n listening to Heeseung’s words made her feel a little better, but he had a really bad feeling and wanted to kick him out right now and talk to the guy from Seattle.

Jay was packing his suitcase and in the background, he sang a song from Oasis one of his favorite bands, and the little hands that he would recognize between hundreds of hands stood before his eyes and a small laugh came out of his mouth, tried to turn around to see the deer-eyed girl but the body of Y/n held him tight.

"Jay, tell me the truth you’re mad at me? Did i do something you didn’t like?, Did i say something wrong about some favorite band of yours that i didn’t even know existed? Did i break some of your knives or something about your guitars?" When you were agitating you blathered a lot and also this thing loved Jay of you and turned to look at you. He wanted to hold you and press his lips into yours but in your head resonated the words that you had joked to Sunoo during a day of skating together.

"Sunoo i thought you or Jake were the most clingy of the group but i think my boyfriend is getting better at both of you, sometimes it’s so clingy that it doesn’t squeeze me so hard i can’t breathe." those words of yours had haunted him for days and he started to break away to give you some space.

"You did nothing wrong Y/n" A puff came out of your lips and you approached to hug him but he went into his walk-in closet your eyes were made clear but you didn’t want to cry at all before him, like a little puppy you followed him in his walk-in closet and to your surprise or perhaps your imagination his arms had become slightly bigger and even his hair had grown a little more and loved when he had silver hair because they did contrast with its honey-colored complexion, you missed him so much that you tried to put a hand on his chest but he carried your hands behind your back and a grin made its way into his gaze.

"Don’t tell me you missed all this Y/n, i thought i heard you say to Sunoo that i was too clingy with you, that i touched you too much, and that sometimes you couldn’t even breathe but at this moment it seems like you want all my attention on yourself but you’ve been a bitch to me because one thing i always told you is that you have to tell me about the things you don’t know like and those you love about me" You never thought that Jay had heard that conversation with Sunoo but you weren’t complaining at all you and he laughed at Jay because they had never seen him take so much for a girl both physically and mentally.

"I wasn’t complaining, in fact..." You tried to go on with the subject but felt Jay’s lips kiss your neck and then lick it off.

"Go ahead Y/n, if you don’t go ahead with the sentence i won’t give you what you want so much but at the same time you complain about having”

"I wasn’t complaining, but at first i was making a little fun of you because" you felt your cardigan unbutton and small bites made you groan, Jay began to kiss you and bite your skin from your navel to yours but the thing that gave you his nerves is that he held your hands tight and did not touch you with a single finger but only with his mouth and his tongue. " continues Y/n", i’m just curious to know what you told your best friend" little moans came out of your mouth and tried to take your hands off Jay’s grip but maybe it was better not to do it pissed.

"I was saying, i was making fun of you because Sunoo with me is a sticky bag but in a friend way, and every time you see me you always seem attracted to me and this thing i love, please Jay."

Jay wasn’t listening to you at all because he was upset about one of the nipples, he brought a hand to your side and with a small push made you lean on his desk and moved his video games.

"Princess, do you seriously dare to ask me for pleasure and make you enjoy but at the same time you’re telling me that you were making fun of me?" You couldn’t make any sense and he walked away from you until we kept talking "I like it when you’re clingy with me also because sometimes i’m clingy with you, i was just afraid that you’d get tired of me because you seldom answered my messages on tour and in 20 days we’ve heard in video call 2 times" you put your lips in the small butterfly/heart birthmark of Jay and kissed her and after a while, you started to suck his neck

"Fuck, y/n you are soaked here. Don’t ever try to say i’m too sticky with you because your body will never lie to me."

SUNGHOON

You and Hoon were the perfect representation of "grumpy x sunshine". Hoon was introverted and he felt comfortable with only a few people instead you loved to make friends with everyone and could talk even with the walls, he liked tranquility instead when there was a click were the first to involve people, he was winter you were summer, he was the moon and you were the sun but these two elements could not live without each other; you two were attracted by your different personalities but you were not yet ready to give yourself.

You and Hoon were not great friends but thanks to T/n the girlfriend of Jake, as well as your best friend, who invited you to countless concerts and dinners in the dormitory of enhypen together; you got along with everyone at first, Hoon had created a kind of wall between him and you, but with the countless outings and dinners that you did together and with your solace that wall slowly began to crumble, you thought you had found a balance with "ice prince" of the group also because it started to sit next to you when you were watching movies together, he was always the first to come and say goodbye when you went to see their concerts and had also bought your favorite cereals to keep them in the kitchen cupboard until one day you heard him talking with Jay.

"Today too must come Y/n to eat out with us at the restaurant? I’m seeing more of her than my family, lately is always clinging to me as if she’s doing it on purpose to get my attention!" When you heard these words coming out of Sunghoon’s mouth the world fell upon you because it was not true that you were always by his side, he was the one who slowly approached you and luckily you started to have feelings for him and stupidly who could not have feelings for him. Over time you found countless excuses not to meet the enhypen especially Sunghoon and this thing did not pass unnoticed by the group but especially by Hoon.

Outside it was raining lightly and you were warm under your blankets and you were enjoying a relaxing evening with yourself, a couple of snacks, and in the background Netflix until you heard the phone ring to your great surprise Sunghoon was calling you, had never called you and had wrong number because it was since weeks that you did not see him. After a few minutes, another call came from Sunghoon and with the heart saying to answer and with the head telling you not to watch it you accepted the call "Y/n, think i’m down at your house but i don’t know what floor you live on and wanted..." You answered the call and rushed with an umbrella in hand out into the street of your apartment and before you was a half-wet Sunghoon with hair and locks falling moist before his eyes.

“What are you doing here, Sunghoon? , it’s 11 p.m. and you’re soaked from head to toe, i wouldn’t want to hear words if you got a fever or a cold because of me you should be at your house" You opened the umbrella and Hoon came to you, and with your astonishment, a hand caressed your face and was extremely hot under your skin and some light shivers crossed your bodies and they were not shivers of cold but shivers of electrified sensations never felt by either. “It would be worth it if you took the fever because of your Y/ n, why you have not come to us no more seems that you are avoiding us as the plague but in particular you are avoiding me, as at this moment you are not looking into my eyes and do not understand the reason, where did the Y/n that i knew until a couple of weeks ago go?" “I’m not avoiding you, lately i've been busy and i realized that i spent a lot of time with you and honestly didn’t want to become too much for you" You didn’t have the rush to tell Sunghoon that you had heard those words and at that moment you just wanted to go back to your room. “Bullshit Y/n, have you been hanging out with Jake, his girlfriend for weeks, and last weekend you even went with Sunoo and Jungwon to your favorite singer’s concert because you don’t write me anymore or come talk to me like before?" You were seriously tired of Sunghoon before he said that you were too clingy with him and then he wanted to see you

"Stop Sunghoon i heard you tell Jay that i was too sticky and you didn’t want me to dinner with you, if you didn’t like me just tell me from the beginning instead the closer you got to me i thought you liked it, but i was wrong" You didn’t want to let him take the rain but you were tired of your feelings for him and tried to leave but a hot grip stopped your pulse and after a few seconds you felt his lips crash into yours, they were slightly rough because of the cold but shivers burst through it and without thinking you dropped your umbrella and stood on tiptoe to draw him closer to you. At that moment it was only you and the boy with the heart of ice but that in the bottom was not so much of ice because he had begun to melt slowly every time you spent time together.

JAKE

Jake loved physical contact with anyone he knew and at the same time loved to receive hugs, cuddles, and body kisses from you. He was always the first to touch you, he was the one to take your hand and put it glued to his inside his jacket pocket so that you do not feel cold, he was the one who hugged you like a koala when you had to go to college and he was the one who fell asleep in your chest or loved to rest his head and his hair that tickled your neck during a break of Netflix & Chill lying on the couch or in your rooms.

You and Jake were lying in bed in your room watching one of your favorite movies, and to your great surprise Jake wasn’t hugging you or like every time you watched a movie he would put his head in your breasts and hold you tight with his big hands, you thought he was just tired and then you started to give him some glances and to your dismay, he seemed only focused on the film and not on you.

After a while, you started to get closer and closer until you put your body next to his and made your legs intertwine in his but even that gesture did not seem to attract his attention of Jake, but his serious expression began to crumble when he felt your hands slightly cold go under his sweatshirt and hug him as he did when you were lying in bed.

"Jakey, Jakey why aren’t you hugging me or what do you know about being near me? We all know you are weak in touching me but especially to hug me when we are lying down or sitting!" You slightly pushed the boy with the Australian accent and a slight laugh came out of your lips when you saw him fix his hair, you knew that he only did it on two occasions when he was embarrassed about something or when he was pissed.

"Maybe you’d rather be hugged by that stupid seal who gave you your enhypen bias and we all know it’s not me, or i'm too clingy with you complaining to your friends."

You couldn’t believe he was jealous of a seal that had won Heeseung while you were all together in an arcade but Jake was also not jealous when he saw you talking to a boy because he knew you loved him and that you were his, but he hated that seal only because he thought he had more time than him to be with you.

"When i have ever complained that you were too clingy with me?" a flash of frustration formed on Jake’s face and after a few seconds he took you by the hips and put his legs over you.

"Angel i know sometimes i can be too clingy towards you and maybe even protective but if something you don’t like just tell me and we can discuss it together, i didn’t want to listen to your call with your friends but i heard you were talking about guys and i was also flattered by certain things that you said about me like the one in which you boasted where i learned some sentences alone of your language and that i managed to speak Spanish in a bar, but then i heard that i was too clingy towards you and i felt stupid because all the members told me that i was always clingy to you when i saw you." You shook hands with Jake’s and for a moment it seemed to see a Jake hurt because of you but it wasn’t exactly like that

"Did you stay until the end of my call with my friends? because i admit that i said you are very sticky with me but that is an aspect of our relationship that i love because we both know that at first, i was shy towards you but also slightly cold with physical contact. You have helped me a lot to open up both in character and also in physical fact because now i embrace my friends and family much more" Jake’s cheeks turned slightly red and he squeezed you to himself and a light kiss leaned into your forehead and then in your hair.

"I’m foolish not to have listened to your conversation because i am delighted that i helped you with my ways to open yourself up to people and make you feel more comfortable with people, i love you Y/n but now can i go back to hugging you and holding you to me?" a light laugh came out of your mouths.

"Of course, you can embrace me and always be yourself with me because i fell in love with you for the person you are with your strengths and weaknesses".

[moon-ttokki-x]

HIII LOVEEE

could you do something about ninth member!reader who found out they were pregnant and are trying to hide it from everyone?? you don’t have too if your not comfortable with pregnancy and stuff

-🪻

hi my love~ just a few shorts thoughts on how skz would react . . . they would be the most supportive people ever and you can't change my mind >< here you gooo~

pairing: ot8!skz x pregnant 9th member!reader

summary: how skz would react to hearing about your pregnancy . . .

genre: this is literally just fluffy, idol!au, 9th member!au, mentions of pregnancy, eating, drinking, worried chan and seungmin, we're naming the baby megatron bc jisung said so, innie and felix's made me cry :(

a/n: 🪻 anon you've outdone yourself . . . skz would be the most supportive members ever :((

skz masterlist

Chan who instantly clears your schedule the moment he hears the news. No more dance practices for you. Reluctantly allows you to moderately exercise, but hovers worriedly nearby like you're about to give birth any minute. Still lets you sing and do interviews, but always has a watchful eye on you. Just in case.

Minho who heads straight to the kitchen and begins planning out nutritious meals. You have to eat snacks in secret because he'll snatch it off you and feed you a proper meal instead. You no longer have to worry about what to cook, because your fridge in the dorm is stocked to the brim with all sorts of deliciousness.

Changbin who gets all huffy when he finds out you've been keeping the news from him and the other members. Forgives you within a minute and recommends some gentle exercises to keep you fit and healthy during your pregnancy. Buys you maternity straps and lots of little helpful items. Secretly hopes the baby is a girl.

Hyunjin who wants to paint you instead of you getting a maternity shoot; even if the bump isn't visible, he'll insist on it anyway. Refuses to let you see until he's finished painting, giggling to himself. When he finally gifts it to you, it's an oil painting of you with a bouquet of flowers covering your stomach in shades of baby blue and pink.

Han who immediately asks to name the baby; goes all pouty when he finds out you don't know the gender. When the perinatal depression hits, he'll come up with all sorts of silly names to make you laugh ("Can we name it Megatron?") and always tickles your stomach with a finger to cheer you up. Wants to teach the baby to rap.

Felix who always has a hand on your stomach whenever you're sitting down; the warmth radiating from his palm is soothing and calming. Is often found gazing at you with soft, loving eyes, before they travel down to your stomach. Becomes even softer and more gently protective after you tell him the news (if that's even possible).

Seungmin who quietly sits by your side after you tell him; he's not sure how to process the news, so he gazes at you with wide eyes and starts to worry just a little. After some reassurance, he'll be fine, but be prepared for the teasing jokes that come after he's recovered from the initial shock ("Did you swallow a watermelon, Y/n?")

Jeongin who immediately starts asking tons of questions; he wants to know everything about the process. Does it hurt? How does it come out? Where is it growing? Can the baby hear him talking? Yes it can. Once the bump starts developing, he can be found sitting by your stomach and singing gently to your unborn baby.

a/n: div by @dollywons

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

[foncethefool]

Until the lock breaks

Oh stars, this story took an absolute wild fuckin turn from where I meant to take it originally, it becomes an emotionally wild ride, so have fun~

The summer sun hung heavy over the playground, baking the pavement until the air shimmered with heat. Jackson’s knees were scraped raw, dirt clinging to his pale skin and smudging across his flushed cheeks. The older boys circled him like vultures, all sharp elbows and cruel laughter, shoving and knocking him down again and again — a sniffling, soft little thing too scrawny to fight back.

The biggest of them, a smug twelve-year-old, grabbed a fistful of his shirt and reeled back to finish the game with a punch — but the hit never came.

Instead, a blur of wild limbs and fiery hair came crashing into the boy’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him in one brutal, unthinking punch. The boy doubled over, and the others froze, staring as the girl stood her ground, fists clenched, her freckled face set with pure defiance.

The afternoon sun caught in her hair, making the light, stringy ginger strands glow like a flickering halo — bright, untamed, and brilliant. To Jackson, still sitting in the dirt, she looked less like a girl and more like some fierce, redheaded guardian angel sent to save him.

“Leave him alone, or I’ll make all of you cry,” she snapped, her voice sharp and unshaken.

That was all it took. The pack scattered, dragging their coughing leader away, too stunned to challenge her.

When the dust finally settled, she turned back to Jackson, crouching low and brushing the dirt from his scraped palms with surprising gentleness. Her smile was wide and fearless, like she’d just won a prize.

“You’re a soft boy,” she said, matter-of-fact and without a hint of teasing. “But that’s okay. I’ll protect you.”

She offered her hand, small and warm, and as he slipped his scraped fingers into hers, she gave it a firm shake, already sealing the deal.

“I’m Sophia,” she announced, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Now you.”

He swallowed the last of his sniffles, voice small and soft.

“...Jackson.”

Sophia grinned, sharp and bright. “Jackson. Got it.” She stood up, tugging him along with her like he weighed nothing. “Well, you’ve got a friend now, Jackson. I’ll keep you safe.”

And just like that, the world wasn’t so scary anymore — at least, not as long as Sophia was there.

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They were caught somewhere between childhood and something else — not quite old enough to leave behind the world of scraped knees and sleepovers, but old enough for thoughts they didn’t yet know how to name.

Sophia had grown into herself like a wild thing finally learning to stand still. The frizzy, sun-bleached orange that had once crowned her head had deepened over the years, settling into a richer, darker shade of red that swayed and bounced when she moved — though the fire in her spirit hadn’t dulled a bit. She was lean and toned, the kind of strong that came from endless afternoons spent climbing fences and sprinting through fields, always chasing some thrill.

Jackson had grown, too — but into the opposite of her. Where Sophia was sharp edges and steady strides, he was all soft lines and quiet habits. His frame was thin, almost fragile, like he’d been stretched just a little too tall for his own good. His hair, long and pale, fell in bright, silken strands whenever he let it down from the loose bun he usually wore, the soft locks brushing against his narrow shoulders. He didn’t bother cutting it, not once.

When people asked why, his answer was always simple, almost sheepish.

"It just feels more natural."

Most days, the two of them spent their afternoons together in Sophia’s room, the silence between them a comfortable thing. She’d be sprawled on her bed, thumbs busy on her game controller or lazily scrolling through her phone, while Jackson sat cross-legged on the floor, thumbing through whatever manga or novel had captured his attention that week.

Without fail, Sophia’s hands would eventually drift toward his hair, weaving through the soft strands like it was second nature. Sometimes she’d just stroke it absentmindedly, her fingers combing through the pale gold, or twisting a lock until it curled and bounced back. The first time he’d asked her why, her answer had been simple, and as matter-of-fact as ever.

"Your hair’s pretty. And it’s soft. I like it, is all."

The words had painted his cheeks a delicate shade of pink back then, his heart skipping somewhere between embarrassment and something else he didn’t yet understand. But as the days blurred into months, the shyness faded, replaced by a quiet contentment. Now, he didn’t flinch when her fingers combed through his hair — he’d just hum softly, the sound more feline than human, his body relaxing into her touch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sophia’s favorite pastime, though, was braiding his hair. Almost every afternoon played out the same way: Jackson sat at the foot of her bed, legs folded, a book resting lightly in his lap, while Sophia perched behind him, her hands moving with gentle precision as she worked the soft strands into a neat, perfect braid.

Neither of them ever said much during those moments. They didn’t need to.

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They were on the cusp of adulthood, teetering on the edge between childhood and whatever came next — a mix of nerves and excitement pulling tight around both of them.

Jackson, ever the quiet one, had flown through school with ease, top of his class without ever really trying. Sophia, on the other hand… Well, she’d scraped by, more than once leaning hard on Jackson’s patience and his sharp mind to drag her through. What she lacked in academics, she more than made up for on the track, her body honed and athletic. Colleges had already come sniffing, waving scholarships for her speed, while Jackson had been offered a full ride purely on his grades.

Still, no matter how different their paths looked on paper, the two were inseparable. Always side by side, always orbiting each other. More times than either could count, there were little moments — a brush of hands, a glance held just a second too long, shoulders bumping on lazy walks home — sparks of something neither fully understood, but both felt all the same.

Jackson had struggled with himself as he grew, though he rarely spoke about it. He hated the rough shadow of facial hair creeping onto his face, always shaving the second it appeared. He lived in oversized hoodies, sleeves long enough to swallow his hands, and when asked about it, he’d only mumble, “It makes me feel safe… or whatever.” More than once, Sophia had caught him staring too long at the front windows of lingerie stores, and once, when she’d teased him — asking if he was shopping for a girlfriend — the look on his face had twisted her stomach with guilt. She never joked about it again.

His hair had grown long over the years, soft blond strands that hung almost to his back when let loose. His bathroom was lined with a small army of products — for his hair, his skin, his face. Sophia had marveled at it more than once, realizing he took better care of his appearance than even she did.

But somehow, graduation crept up on them, and with it came one last night of being kids. A final evening before the world would start pulling them apart.

That Thursday evening, Sophia had slipped out of her house under cover of dark, bare feet silent on the pavement as she climbed through Jackson’s bedroom window — a habit as old as their friendship. They’d talked for hours, voices low and soft, both buzzing with the same cocktail of anxiety and anticipation. And now, in the late-night quiet, they simply laid side by side, the silence warm and heavy. Words had run dry. Being close was enough.

But then Sophia reached out, fingers brushing against his, her hand curling around his own in a quiet search for comfort. Jackson had expected the usual flutter of embarrassment, but the gentle squeeze of her hand told him all he needed to know — for once, the unshakable Sophia wasn’t so fearless. She was scared. And right then, he wanted to be strong for her.

He shifted, wrapping his arm around her and drawing her in close, guiding her head to rest against his chest. She nestled there without resistance, hands clutching lightly at the hem of his pajama shirt as her breathing slowed.

“You smell nice,” she mumbled, voice soft as a feather. “Like lavender and honey.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled through him, his fingers weaving through her hair, gentle and slow.

“Are you complaining?”

She shook her head, the motion barely a whisper against his chest.

Silence stretched between them, long and comfortable, until Jackson thought she might’ve drifted off. But then her voice broke the quiet once more — soft, heavy, almost lost to sleep.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. You’re so important to me.”

Her words settled deep in his chest, blooming a warmth so bittersweet it nearly ached. He let the silence hang a moment longer, unsure if she was even still awake, before whispering back,

“You saved my life, Phia.” The nickname rolled off his tongue like an old song, worn smooth by years. “You saved me so many times, I lost count. I don’t feel like I can ever be myself with anyone else but you.”

Another pause, softer this time, as if the world had held its breath.

“I remember the day I met you,” he murmured, voice barely more than air. “That first day you saved me. I thought you were my guardian angel. I still think I was right.”

Sophia shifted against him, the weight of sleep pulling her down, her voice barely audible.

“I’ll always protect you. I never wanna be without you.”

Jackson’s eyelids grew heavier, his fingers still tangled in her hair, his gaze lingering on the soft red curls resting against his chest.

And, finally, sleep took them both.

----------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t unusual for Sophia to invite him over. She still called, still checked in, even if life had pulled them apart. The distance between them wasn’t measured in miles — it was measured in growing silences, in glances that lingered too long on his sunken eyes, on his increasingly thin frame, on the way his hoodies hung looser and looser over time.

Her voice on the phone had been soft, almost too soft.

"Hey... come over, okay? Just for a little while."

When he arrived, the house was warm — too warm, like it was trying to make him comfortable before he even noticed something was off. The walls were painted with soft, calming colors, decorated sparsely but tastefully, the way her success allowed. The scent of lavender drifted lazily in the air, sweet and familiar.

They talked, the same way they always did. About work. About people. About everything and nothing. But there was something strained under Sophia’s words, something Jackson couldn’t quite name. She kept watching him, her gaze flicking between his eyes and the way his fingers tugged self-consciously at his sleeves, the way his hand brushed against his chin when the faint shadow of facial hair caught the light.

When he excused himself for the bathroom, Sophia moved to the kitchen. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the tea. She crushed the small white capsule between spoon and porcelain, watching the powder dissolve into the dark liquid. Slowly, methodically, she stirred the tea, the motion mechanical — her gaze fixed on the swirling dark, as if the answer or forgiveness might float to the surface if she waited long enough.

When Jackson returned, he accepted the mug with that small, polite smile, the kind that never quite reached his eyes anymore.

The conversation drifted as the tea slowly vanished. His voice grew softer, his head heavier. His hands fumbled with the cup until it slipped from his grasp, clattering harmlessly against the carpeted floor. Panic flickered behind his eyes, but before it could bloom, Sophia was already at his side, catching him as his body slumped forward.

Her hands found his, clutching his fingers tightly, her thumb brushing gently across his knuckles like it might be the last time she’d ever be allowed to hold him this way.

"It’s okay..." she whispered, her voice barely steady. "You don’t have to fight anymore, Jackie."

----------------------------------------------------------------

When Jackson woke, the world was soft and dim, but wrong. His limbs felt heavy, weak. His head swam, the sharp edges of panic rising to the surface as his body shifted — and he heard the sound of metal.

A collar. Around his neck. A chain clinked against the cold wall when he moved too fast.

The basement wasn’t a dungeon. It wasn’t cold or cruel. The walls were painted a soft, pale color, the carpet plush beneath him. A proper bed sat against one wall, neatly made with soft sheets. A small bookshelf rested within reach, lined with his favorite books, arranged in careful order — the same titles he’d lost himself in as a child. There was even a toilet tucked neatly in the corner, and soft light spilled from a standing lamp rather than the harsh overhead bulbs.

Everything was too familiar. Too comfortable. And that only made it worse.

His voice cracked as panic finally overtook him.

"Phia! Phia, what’s going on?!"

She appeared in the stairwell, descending slowly, her face pale, her eyes swollen and rimmed red from crying. She looked at him like her heart was breaking all over again.

"You’ve been miserable, Jackie," she whispered, her voice small and strained, the old nickname clawing at her throat as she said it. "I... I’ve watched you suffer. I tried to talk to you, but you always smiled through it. You always hid it. And I can’t stand it anymore."

Her hands clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms, her voice trembling as the words tumbled out.

"I want to protect you, but I can’t if you won’t let me. You won’t let anyone."

Tears welled in her eyes again, spilling over unchecked.

"I... I had to do something, Jack. I had to help you. This is the only way I could figure out how."

She stepped closer, kneeling by the edge of the bed. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"You’re going to get a shot. Every week. It’ll knock you out for a while... and it’ll start replacing the hormones that have been hurting you. Estrogen, Jackie. It’ll help. I know it will. I promise you’ll feel better, even if you don’t believe me yet."

When she finished, silence swallowed the room.

Jackson’s wide, tear-filled eyes stared back at her, unblinking, the betrayal cutting deeper than any words could. His breath hitched, and the tears spilled down his face in hot, silent streams.

When she reached out, hand trembling to brush his hair away from his face, he flinched — recoiling from her touch like it burned.

And in that moment, Sophia’s heart shattered. She stayed kneeling, her hand hovering uselessly in the space where his warmth had been, watching him shake with silent fear.

"Even if you hate me, Jackie," her voice cracked, barely holding itself together, "even if you never forgive me... I’ll be okay with that. As long as you’re safe. As long as you don’t have to hurt anymore."

----------------------------------------------------------------

The first shot

He fights. Stars, he fights.

A thrown book, trembling hands, desperate strength that doesn’t match hers — Jackson tries, but Sophia is too strong, too practiced at protecting him, even from himself. She holds him down as gently as she can, pressing his face into the soft carpet, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over as the needle slips into the soft flesh of his hip.

When he wakes, his face is bare. His skin smooth. His hair still damp from washing. His body cleaned while he was unconscious.

Sophia sits a few feet away, eyes swollen from crying. She couldn’t let him wake up alone, even if he’d never forgive her.

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The days bled together in the dark, each one slower than the last. The first week, Jackson didn’t sleep — not really. When exhaustion finally pulled him under, it was shallow, restless, the kind of sleep that left his body aching more than rest ever could. When he woke, it was always the same: the collar cold against his throat, the chain heavy across the floor, the faint smell of concrete and old wood pressing into his senses like a second skin.

The first week, he begged. God, he begged. For answers, for mercy, for Sophia. The girl he knew. The girl who promised to always protect him.

But she never raised her voice. Never snapped at him, never argued back. When she came down the stairs, it was always with a tray — simple food, sometimes his favorites, sometimes just something soft and easy to swallow. She never set it too close, always sliding it along the floor like he was a frightened animal. He never ate while she watched. Not once. But when she climbed the stairs, he’d devour every bite, hunger winning out over his pride.

Some nights, he’d cry until his throat gave out. The kind of ugly, shuddering sobs that left him clutching the chain like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

“Please wake up,” he whispered into the dark. “Please let this be a dream.”

But it never was. The cold never changed. The silence never broke. The bruises on his arm where she held him down still bloomed purple and yellow, proof this was real.

When the second week came, and with it another shot, he fought again — weaker this time, his muscles drained from too many nights of crying and too little food. She still held him down, still whispered apologies, still slid the needle into his skin as gently as her shaking hands would allow.

The cycle repeated. Day after day. Shot after shot.

By the end of the month, the begging had stopped. The fight had dulled into a quiet, seething ache that lived behind his eyes, and Sophia — she never stopped talking. Even when he gave her no answer, she’d sit nearby and fill the space with stories, with memories, with dreams. Sometimes, just the sound of her voice would crack him open all over again.

But he never let her see. He waited until the light at the top of the stairs flicked off, waited for the sound of her footsteps to disappear, before he let himself cry.

Because even then, even through all the betrayal, he still couldn’t let her see him break.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The days stopped feeling like days. They stretched long and gray, a smear of endless sameness. The sharp edges of his anger softened, worn down not by peace, but by exhaustion. He didn’t fight the shots anymore. The last time he’d tried, he hadn’t even made it halfway across the room before Sophia caught him, arms wrapped around him more like a mother holding her child than a captor restraining her prisoner. She never hurt him. She couldn’t. But her strength always outmatched his, and that made the defeat cut even deeper.

Now, when she came with the syringe, Jackson just looked away. His silence had become his armor, the only piece of himself he could still control. The needle always came, whether he fought or not. He learned it hurt less if he didn’t resist.

Sophia talked to him every day. She told him about the world beyond the basement walls — the news, the changing seasons, the places they used to visit together. Sometimes she brought down little things. A new book. His favorite candy. A scarf in his favorite shade of blue. Small gestures, meant to fill the space between them. Meant to remind him of who she was, even if he could barely recognize her anymore.

The loneliness hit hardest at night, when the quiet pressed in from all sides. That was when the changes whispered to him, soft and unfamiliar. His emotions didn't fit the same way they used to. Anger came and went in waves he couldn’t predict. Small things made his chest tighten, his throat ache. Sometimes for no reason at all, tears welled up behind his eyes, hot and sudden, and he’d bury his face into the pillow, refusing to let himself cry where anyone could hear.

And his body...

Little things. So little he could almost pretend they weren't there. His face stayed smoother longer. The coarse stubble that had always shadowed his jaw grew in patchy, thinner. His chest felt... odd. Not painful, not yet, but sensitive. Brushing his arm too close or lying on his stomach would send a sharp little spark through him that he couldn’t explain. The weight of his own skin felt different. Softer.

It scared him.

And Sophia... she never looked away from the changes. She saw them. She watched them. But she never pointed them out. Instead, her voice grew softer, her touch lighter — careful, like she was trying not to frighten a wounded animal.

Sometimes, when she brought his meals, he found himself murmuring a soft “Thank you.”

And one day, out of nowhere, when she answered his whispered “Hello” with that old, warm, gentle “Hey, Jackie,” it didn’t make him flinch the way it used to. The nickname slid into his ears like an old song he couldn’t quite hate, no matter how much he wanted to.

That night, when the light at the top of the stairs flicked off and he curled beneath the blanket, he found himself running his fingers over his chest, tracing the faintest curve he swore wasn’t there before.

And for the first time in months, the tears that came weren’t all fear.

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He couldn't tell how long it had been, but, the silence wasn’t so sharp anymore. It had dulled into something soft, almost companionable. Jackson still spent most of his time with a book in hand or staring at the ceiling, but when Sophia came down the stairs, he didn’t flinch the way he used to. Sometimes, he even looked at her.

The changes in his body couldn’t be ignored anymore. They crept up slowly, day by day, until one morning he caught the way his chest curved beneath his shirt, the faint swell pressing against the fabric when he shifted. His skin had lost its roughness, growing softer to the touch, and his hair — longer now than it had ever been — slid like silk down his back, brushing against the small of it when he stretched.

The mirror, of course, was a luxury he hadn’t been given. Sophia knew better. But his hands were mirrors enough. The slope of his waist felt different beneath his fingertips. His thighs had filled out, carrying a new softness, a new weight. He hated it. He hated how natural it felt, how some part of him didn’t want to hate it at all.

And his emotions — they were worse than before. The littlest things could send him spiraling. Some days, the sound of Sophia’s voice was enough to make his chest twist and his eyes sting. He didn’t know why. Neither did she. And yet she always stayed, sitting at the edge of the bed, talking about nothing in particular, giving him the space to either answer or ignore her.

And sometimes, he didn’t ignore her. He started asking questions. Small ones, cautious and dry. About the world. About her work. About the weather. About books. About things that didn’t matter.

And sometimes, when the loneliness felt too heavy, he’d slip — and call her “Phia.” The old nickname didn’t taste as bitter on his tongue as it used to.

Sophia never pointed it out. She only smiled, soft and sad, and kept talking like nothing had happened.

The nights were the strangest. When he knew she was asleep upstairs, he let himself explore the body he barely recognized. The quiet glide of his hands over the curve of his chest, the way his skin reacted beneath his touch — it left him breathless, confused, and ashamed. But he did it anyway.

Because for the first time, it felt real. He felt real.

And when the guilt clawed at his throat, the only comfort came from the soft creak of the floorboards upstairs — the reminder that Sophia was still there, even if he didn’t know whether to love her or hate her for it.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“A whole year,” Sophia said, her voice bright, but her eyes betrayed her. They always did. The guilt lived there like an old tenant, too comfortable to leave.

Jackson sat on the bed, his hands folded in his lap. He looked thinner, smaller, though the softness in his body said otherwise. His hair was long now, hanging over his shoulders in dark waves, brushing the tops of his arms. He didn’t look at her when she set the box down on the bed, but he didn’t flinch away either.

“What’s this?” he asked, voice flat but not hostile.

Sophia shifted from foot to foot, rubbing her wrist nervously. “It’s... a gift. I remember when we were younger, you’d always stop at that little shop, you know the one.” Her words tangled together, long pauses breaking them apart, like she wasn’t sure which ones she had permission to say.

He opened the box slowly, like it might bite him. Inside lay the sundress — soft, light blue, with thin straps and delicate folds — and beneath it, black lace lingerie, neatly folded and paired with thigh-high stockings and a garter belt.

“You don’t have to wear them for me,” Sophia blurted out, hands rising defensively. “I just thought — if you ever wanted to — for you. Only you.”

He didn’t answer. Not at first. His fingers ghosted over the soft fabric, lingering too long before snapping the lid shut. “No,” he murmured, voice low. “I’m not wearing them.”

Sophia nodded, lips pressing into a thin line. “I understand.”

She gave him his shot, like clockwork, and left quietly, without another word.

But later that night, when the house was quiet and the dark pressed in close, Jackson sat on the edge of his bed, the unopened box back in his lap.

His hands trembled when he pulled the dress free. The fabric was softer than he’d imagined, and as he slipped it over his head, something shifted. The hem brushed against his thighs, light and easy, the neckline sitting awkwardly against his unfamiliar chest — but the fit, the feel of it, the weightlessness...

It felt right.

And that was the part that cut deepest.

He stared down at himself, hands fisting the skirt, and the guilt sat heavy in his chest, raw and searing. This wasn’t supposed to feel good. It wasn’t supposed to feel like home. And yet the longer he sat there, the more the weight of the dress comforted him, the more natural it felt against his skin.

Unseen, at the top of the stairs, Sophia sat curled against the banister, watching through the thin slats of wood. Her heart ached with the bittersweet sting of it — the quiet, guilty wonder in his eyes, the way he twirled a lock of hair around his finger like he used to as a kid, the fragile balance between self-loathing and self-acceptance written plain across his face.

She didn’t make a sound, only pulled her knees tighter to her chest, and wiped away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Time softened the sharpest corners, dulled the sting of memory, and reshaped the space between them into something more like habit than comfort. The basement wasn’t a cage the way it had been at first — but it wasn’t home either. It was... limbo.

The fights had long since faded. The panic, the begging, the tears that once soaked the pillow he tried so hard to hide from her — all distant echoes now, worn thin by the slow, grinding march of routine. The pills came with dinner, and Jackson took them without resistance, swallowing them down like one more spoonful of obligation.

The space between them, the silence, had softened too. Not healed. Just worn smooth like sea glass.

The trust between them had been shattered the night Sophia drugged him. A beautiful, irreplaceable vase, smashed into too many jagged pieces to ever be whole again. She had spent two years gluing it back together, conversation by conversation, meal by meal, tender moment by tender moment. The shape had returned, but the cracks were still there, spiderwebbed veins of old wounds, impossible to ignore.

And the edges still cut them, when they weren't careful.

Some nights, he asked her to braid his hair — the way she used to, when they were young and the world was simple and safe. His voice, small and uncertain, barely reached her ears when he asked. And always, always, Sophia said yes, no matter how much her hands trembled at the soft, familiar weight of his hair in her fingers.

But even those moments couldn’t smooth over the sharp places entirely.

Sometimes he would pull away halfway through, retreating to the bed’s far corner without a word. Other times he wouldn't meet her eyes, the gap between them wide enough to drown in, even when they sat side by side.

And Sophia never pushed. She couldn't.

Instead, she offered small gestures, like pebbles laid in the foundation of the shaky bridge between them.

One evening, she came downstairs with a binder — worn and heavy, packed with notes and pages printed from forums, guides, handwritten reminders, and encouragements. Voice training advice. Exercises. Diagrams. Tips for finding the soft, quiet voice that had always belonged to him, even when the world told him it shouldn’t.

She didn’t say much when she set it on the bed. Just... "In case you wanted to."

Jackson stared at it for a long time, hands folded neatly in his lap. His face unreadable, but his silence told her enough. The binder sat there for days, untouched — until one night, when she came down later than usual and heard the faintest, quietest sound from the darkened room. His voice. Practicing. Awkward, unsteady, but undeniably his.

Sophia sat on the stairs that night, head bowed, listening to the shy, broken notes floating up through the cracks in the door. Her throat ached with all the things she wanted to say, but couldn’t.

The trust between them would never be whole again — but it was something. Enough to cut her, enough to comfort him, enough to survive.

For now.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The lingerie had always been there, folded neatly at the end of his bed like a question he couldn’t answer. Some nights, it felt like a punishment — a reminder of the new skin he was meant to grow into. Other nights, the fabric called to him, whispering soft, dangerous truths he wasn’t ready to accept.

But it wasn’t the lace or the shame that saved him. It was the wire.

That sharp, cold strip hidden inside the softness, as if the thing had been designed for him all along. He spent nights working the wire against the metal frame of the bed, scraping it down until it was thin, sharp, and pliable. His hands bled for the effort, but he never stopped.

When the lock finally clicked open one silent night, Jackie didn’t cry. He just stared at the collar resting loose in his hands, and then fit it back around his neck, making sure the latch only looked shut.

And then, he waited. He needed one last piece: her trust.

The night of the plan, he played his part perfectly — letting her braid his hair, even asking for it. His voice soft, almost affectionate, as he mumbled, "I... missed when you used to do this, Phia."

Sophia’s hands trembled, pausing mid-braid. That little nickname — it had been so long. She didn’t want to read into it, but her heart ached with hope.

When she finished, Jackie turned, eyes wide and soft, and asked quietly, “Could you.....” a hesitant pause, and a deliberate one "The lingerie, could you help me try it on?"

Her whole body stilled. The words she’d longed to hear — an olive branch she’d imagined, but never thought would come. She nodded, swallowing hard, trying not to let her hope show.

Trembling hands reached for the shelf she knew he kept the lacy items on, she had stared at them hundreds of times, wondering if Jackie ever tried them on. Her attention was split, her gaze was soft, hesitant.

And that’s when he struck.

As she reached over, fingertips ghosting the soft fabric, he gave the collar a hard yank, popping the clasp and with a desperate movement, he shoved the metal collar around her throat.

The sound of the lock clicking shut was louder than any scream.

Jackie scrambled back, shoving himself agaisnt the far wall, out of her reach

Sophia’s breath hitched, but she didn’t fight. She didn’t even move.

She sank to her knees, hands gently curling around the collar’s weight, her head bowed. The silence stretched between them until her voice finally broke through, soft and so unbearably sad.

"...Jackie."

She’d known, deep down, this would happen. She’d always known. But the moment still shattered something inside her.

He stood there, pressing himself against the wall, as far from her as he could get, his chest heaving, tears already burning the corners of his eyes.

And Sophia? She just looked up at him, offering the smallest, almost forgiving smile.

“I always wondered... when you’d stop letting me win.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Jackie ran — faster than he thought his legs could carry him, heart clawing at his throat, lungs burning, the cold air upstairs slicing at his skin like it was trying to wake him from a dream.

The front door stood there, just a few feet away. Freedom. A world he’d almost forgotten how to exist in. His hand shot out for the lock — but froze, suspended midair.

Out of the corner of his eye, in the glass of a painting hung by the hallway, something caught him. A flicker. A ghost, maybe. But when he turned, it wasn’t a ghost at all.

It was him.

No — not him.

For the first time in more than two years, the face looking back wasn’t the miserable, hollow-eyed boy he'd carried like a burden his whole life. The sunken cheeks were gone, the harsh angles softened. His eyes, still wide, still scared, held something new behind them. His hair tumbled long and unkempt around his face, framing it the way he never believed it could.

He didn’t look like the person who’d been dragged down those basement stairs.

He didn’t look like Jackson.

His feet moved on their own, away from the door, away from the promise of outside. He stumbled into the bathroom, flicking the light on with trembling fingers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, stared at himself — fully, clearly.

And he didn’t hate what he saw.

The reflection was imperfect, unfinished, awkward in the way all new things are — but it was his. The curve of his face, the softened lines of his jaw, the swell of his chest beneath a shirt that hung too loose in all the wrong places, the way his hair slipped down over his shoulders.

He reached up, fingertips grazing his cheek, his lips, his throat.

It wasn’t the boy who needed to escape anymore.

It was the girl who had never been allowed to exist.

And the thought hit him harder than any locked door or heavy collar ever could:

Who am I, if not Jackson?

For the first time, the question wasn’t terrifying. It felt like a beginning.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Jackie didn’t go back downstairs.

Not right away.

The bathroom felt like another world, sealed off from the weight of the house — from the weight of her past self. The cold tile pressed through the thin cotton of her pants, the chill soaking into her bones, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

She sat there, back against the bathtub, knees pulled tight to her chest, eyes fixed on the foggy mirror as if the girl she’d seen there might disappear if she blinked too long.

Her mind was a storm. Guilt and relief clawed at each other inside her chest, raw and tangled. She should’ve run. She was supposed to run. That’s what this had all been about — the planning, the quiet obedience, the pills swallowed without protest, the collar unlocked, the trap laid.

Freedom was only a few feet away. And she couldn’t take it.

Not yet.

She wasn’t the same person who had been dragged down into that basement. That boy — Jackson — he’d been left behind somewhere along the way, his sharp edges worn away by months of silence, the slow drip of change, and the bittersweet comfort of Sophia’s presence.

And now... who was she?

She traced circles against her own wrist, fingers brushing over the soft skin — softer than she remembered, the kind of softness that wasn’t earned through survival, but through something else. Something intentional.

Every inch of her body felt foreign and familiar all at once. She’d grown used to the changes — the slight curve of her chest, the way her waist pinched in, the way her voice sometimes hit softer notes even when she wasn’t trying. But this was the first time she’d seen it. The first time the mirror hadn't lied.

She let her head fall back against the cold porcelain, closing her eyes.

Her chest ached. But not with fear, not anymore. Something else bloomed there now — hesitant, trembling, but undeniably alive.

The world beyond that front door would demand answers. Names. Identities.

And for the first time, Jackie didn’t know what to give them.

She didn’t cry. Not right away. The tears came later, soft and tired, when the weight of it all pressed too hard. When she let herself grieve the boy she was, the boy she was never meant to be.

And when the tears stopped, and the silence settled heavy and warm, she whispered the words to herself, testing their shape like a secret:

I’m still here.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The house had been silent for hours.

Sophia hadn’t moved from where she knelt on the basement floor, her hands still resting loosely in her lap, her breathing shallow and even. The collar around her neck felt heavier with each passing minute, a weight she wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted to take off. She knew this moment would come — she'd known from the moment her hands first trembled over a syringe, from the moment she'd crossed that line. But knowing and feeling it were two different things entirely.

The sharp click of the basement door latch made her flinch.

Her heart stilled. For the briefest moment, she imagined the heavy tread of boots — police, neighbors, someone who would take her away, finally. But the sound that followed wasn’t the cold stomp of authority.

It was soft.

Gentle footfalls. Careful, hesitant. Light.

She lifted her head.

And there, standing at the foot of the stairs, was Jackie.

But not the boy she’d known. Not the angry, flinching creature who’d once scowled at her from behind a curtain of unkempt hair. The figure that stood before her now held something else in her eyes. Not defiance. Not hatred. Not even fear.

Something unspoken hung in the air between them. A question neither of them had the strength to ask.

Sophia swallowed, her voice barely a whisper, fragile and cracked at the edges.

"...Jackie?"

The name tasted wrong on her tongue. And from the way the girl’s lips pressed into a soft, uncertain line — as if she didn’t quite recognize it either — Sophia understood.

“Sophia.”

The name floated from her lips like it had always belonged there, tender and careful, spoken as though saying it too loud might shatter the fragile thread stretched between them.

Sophia’s breath hitched at the sound, her chest tightening with something heavier than guilt, heavier than relief. It wasn’t the voice of the boy she'd once known — not entirely. It wasn’t the sharp, defiant child who had fought her every step of the way. It was new, unsteady, a little broken around the edges, but undeniably hers.

And for the first time, Sophia didn’t see the person she'd forced, or the person she'd tried to protect — she saw the person who had grown, against all odds, between the cracks.

Jackie stepped forward, slow and uncertain, like every part of her body was learning to move for the first time. One step. Another. The gap between them dissolved with each quiet, cautious motion until she stood in front of Sophia, the woman who had been both captor and comfort, the only home Jackie had ever really known.

Without a word, Jackie lowered herself to her knees, mirroring Sophia’s position on the cold concrete floor.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The silence wasn’t heavy with fear or anger anymore — only the weight of everything unsaid. Everything they couldn’t put into words.

Jackie’s voice, when it came again, was quiet. Fragile. Barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know who I am.”

And Sophia, her throat tightening, her voice cracking under the force of all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t, only managed a simple reply.

“…I know.”

The silence between them stretched long and heavy, filled with everything they’d been too afraid to say, everything they hadn’t known how to say. The air was thick with questions neither of them had answers to yet, and neither of them seemed to know where to start. It wasn’t comfortable — but it was real. Raw. True.

Sophia swallowed hard, her heart shattering in a thousand ways, yet she couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up from her chest. It was nervous, uncertain, but it came with the kind of ease that only a shared history could provide.

“Well… at least the collar’s not choking you anymore.”

Jackie’s lips trembled, the fight she had carried for so long crumbling with that one off-hand joke. Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to spill, and for a moment, she just stared at Sophia, seeing the woman she had once been and the stranger she was now.

The sound of her quiet laugh — a laugh that wasn’t forced — broke something in both of them. Sophia’s own tears followed, spilling over without warning, a fragile release of the tension that had weighed them down for so long.

Jackie let out a small, choked laugh, almost a sob, and for the first time in forever, she felt it. The lightness. The tiny flicker of freedom. It wasn’t complete. It wasn’t perfect. But it was there.

Sophia’s voice trembled, trying to hold on to the last shred of humor between them. “I guess... I didn’t get the size right, huh?”

And despite everything, despite the years, despite the pain, they both laughed. A soft, quiet sound that was more healing than anything else had been in a long time. Their tears mixed, not in sorrow, but in something that felt like a fresh start — the first step to something neither of them could quite grasp yet.

But they were there, together.

And that, at least, was enough for now.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun streamed in through the open window, warm golden light spilling across the cozy living room. It was quiet, serene. Jackie sat at the desk by the window, the soft click of keys filling the air as she typed, her focus entirely on the code flickering across the screen. It had been years since she’d felt this at peace, and the realization still hit her sometimes, like the calm after a storm.

From the kitchen, the familiar sound of Sophia humming softly, the clink of dishes as she prepared lunch, was a comforting reminder of just how far they had come. The past felt like an eternity, the pain, the struggles, now distant memories that were slowly fading, replaced with something more real, something that felt like home.

"Jackie!" Sophia’s voice drifted in, sweet and teasing, like it always had been. She entered the room, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a small plate of cookies in the other, a soft smile playing on her lips. Her presence still had the same calming effect on Jackie, even after all these years.

Jackie smiled, her fingers pausing on the keyboard as she turned to face her. "What's that?" she asked, the warmth in her voice unmistakable. The years had turned her into someone different, someone stronger, but it was Sophia's touch that always brought her back to who she had been — and who she was becoming.

Sophia sat beside her, placing the plate of cookies on the desk, then handing over the tea. "Just thought you might need a little break. You’ve been at that screen all morning." She stroked Jackie’s hair gently, her fingers lingering as if she could never quite get enough of the simple touch. There was so much tenderness in her actions now, a tenderness that Jackie had come to recognize as a part of her love.

Jackie took the tea, her hand brushing against Sophia’s as their fingers intertwined for a brief moment. There was no tension now, no fear, just the comfortable rhythm of two lives that had found their way back to each other.

"It's perfect," Jackie whispered, her voice thick with gratitude, her smile full of something deeper now. "Thank you, Sophia. You always know exactly what I need."

Sophia laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Jackie's face. "You deserve it. All of it. Every bit of it."

Jackie’s heart skipped at the softness in Sophia’s voice. There was a time when she would’ve fought against the comfort, against the love. But now? Now, it felt like the only thing that truly mattered.

As they sat there, together, the weight of their past no longer felt like a burden but a testament to their survival. The collar was gone, the pain had faded, and now they could focus on the future they were building together.

And that future, as they both knew now, wasn’t just about surviving anymore. It was about living. Truly living.

---

A few months earlier, things had been different. A sunny day on a hill, the warm breeze fluttering their hair as they sat on a blanket, surrounded by the vast expanse of sky and grass. They’d had a picnic, their laughter filling the air, untainted by the past. It was then that Sophia had reached into her bag, pulling out a small box, her eyes full of love, full of vulnerability.

"Sophia..." Jackie had whispered, her breath catching in her throat. "What... what are you doing?"

And then, with a soft smile, Sophia had taken her hand, the box in her palm. "Will you marry me, Jackie?"

It had taken Jackie a moment to process the question, to feel the weight of it. To realize that, yes, after everything, after all they’d been through — she wanted this. She wanted Sophia. She wanted a future with her.

The answer had come easy, tears welling in her eyes as she whispered, "Yes."

And that yes had changed everything.

---

Now, here they were, living together, building something new. Jackie, once locked in a basement, now working from home, her skills in software giving her the freedom she’d always dreamed of. The work was hard, challenging, but it was hers. It was something she could control, something that had been built through years of struggle and survival. And with Sophia by her side, it felt like everything was possible.

"I love you," Jackie whispered as she took Sophia’s hand again, her thumb brushing the back of her palm.

Sophia’s eyes softened, and she leaned in to kiss the top of Jackie’s head, the gesture so simple, yet so intimate. "I love you, too," she replied, and for a moment, there was nothing more important than that.

Their lives, though far from perfect, were finally their own — and that was enough.

[fic-girlie]

I got an idea that may interest you, I just learned that Pedro has an aristocratic background from his father side of the family. And that got me thinking, would you consider writing about a reader who Pedro met as children, but the reader has always been wary of him because of her shy personality whilst also knowing that Pedro is just way more economically richer than her family for the reason that she grew up as a struggling middle-class person? Like this girl grew up with a bad hand in life, and dosen’t expect much from it. She doesn't expect to stay long-time friends with him, she dosen’t understand why he would want to be her friend, or why he would even want to mention her infront of others, but she does appreciate him. Like a lot, she dosen’t believe she has the chance either, because they're way more prettier and more successful woman than her. Nonetheless, she is content with being his friend. However long that lasts.

The years between us

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader Summary: A shy girl grows up believing she’s not enough for Pedro, her wealthy childhood friend. But as he rises to fame, their quiet bond endures—until he shows her she’s the one he’s always loved. Warnings: slow-burn, fluff, comfort, reader doubting herself, softness

You meet him on your eighth birthday, though you don’t know then how long he’ll stay in your life.

The day is warm, sun-filtered through tired cotton clouds, the kind that stretch lazily across the sky like they have all the time in the world. Your party is in a park — not a fancy one, just a patch of worn grass beside a small playground and a few crooked picnic tables shaded by overgrown trees. Your mom strung streamers between two branches. They sag in the middle. One of them already tore free and flutters in the wind like it wants to leave.

Your shoes are too tight. You can feel the rubber sole coming apart at the side, catching against the dirt every time you run. You mentioned it once to your mom, in the car. She made a tired sound and promised to check for a sale next week.

You didn’t bring it up again.

Instead, you sit cross-legged beneath one of the picnic tables, your paper plate balanced on your knees, eating a slice of dry chocolate cake while your cousins run wild in the distance, chasing each other across the playground like a storm of limbs and screeches. You feel out of place, like you always do at your own parties — as if the celebration belongs to everyone else.

That’s when you see him.

You don’t know his name yet. He stands awkwardly next to your aunt, holding a gift bag like it might explode if he moves too quickly. His hair is dark, thick curls tumbling into his eyes, and he’s dressed nicer than anyone else here — a clean white shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, navy shorts that haven’t seen dirt, and shoes so white they look like they were born this morning.

He doesn’t look like he belongs here.

He looks like he belongs on the cover of one of the books from your school library — the ones you read alone while the other kids played handball, stories about children with horses and private tutors and long summer vacations in places you can’t even pronounce.

You assume he’s another cousin. Or a cousin-of-a-cousin. There are always too many people at these things, adults who know your name but never say it right, kids who show up for the cake and forget about you the moment they leave.

He catches your eye, just briefly. You glance away. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you — not with the sharp, measuring interest most kids use when they size someone up, but something gentler. Curiosity without expectation.

Then he disappears into the chaos.

You figure that’s the end of it.

Until he finds you.

He crouches down beside the picnic table a little later, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be here.

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft but clear, careful. He sounds like someone who chooses his words instead of letting them trip out all at once. “You’re the birthday girl, right?”

You pause mid-bite, blinking up at him. The sun’s behind him, bright around the edges of his head, making it hard to see his expression clearly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak again, just waits.

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He grins, and it transforms him completely — like he’s sunlight in motion. It’s not the polite smile adults use, not the smirking grin kids give when they think they’re better than you. It’s open, earnest.

“I’m Pedro,” he says. “My family’s staying with your tío for the weekend.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not good at new people. You’re especially not good at ones who look like they belong in stories with better endings.

He doesn’t seem to mind the silence.

“Want to play tag?” he asks, shifting slightly to rest on one knee. “There’s not many kids my age here. You looked like you might be bored too.”

You stare at him.

“Um… I’m not that fast,” you mumble, picking at the edge of your plate. “I’m not really good at games.”

He shrugs. “I’m not fast either. That’s why I usually try to be ‘It.’ Then I don’t have to run as much.”

That gets a small smile out of you. Just a tiny one, tucked into the corner of your mouth. But he sees it. You can tell by the way his eyes light up, like he’s proud of pulling it from you.

“I’ll be ‘It’ first,” he offers. “But only if you play.”

You glance around. Your cousins are still screaming on the jungle gym, chasing each other in packs. No one’s watching you. No one will care if you leave your half-eaten cake behind.

“…Okay,” you say, so quietly you’re not sure he hears you until he’s already grinning and standing up again, holding out a hand.

You hesitate. Then take it.

His palm is warm. Not clammy. Not sweaty. Just warm.

You let him pull you out from under the table and lead you into the sun.

And for the first time that day, maybe even in a long time, you feel like you belong.

——

After that first summer, you assume he’ll forget you.

Why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t belong here—not really. Not in the way you do, with your thrift store sneakers and your neighbourhood friends who all live in the same two-block radius. You expect him to disappear like most things do: quietly and completely, without anyone stopping to explain.

But Pedro keeps showing up.

At first, it’s only the summers. A week here, a weekend there. His family visits your aunt and uncle’s house when school’s out, usually around the Fourth of July or for someone’s birthday. And each time, he finds you.

It doesn’t matter where you are. You could be on the porch reading while your cousins shriek from the backyard sprinklers. You could be tucked in the corner of the garage during a storm, helping your uncle shell corn. You could be pretending to be invisible behind a plate of food you didn’t ask for at a family party that’s too loud, too chaotic.

He finds you every time.

At first, it’s small talk. Nothing special. Questions about what you’re reading or if you want to help him sneak another soda from the cooler. He never demands your attention like the other kids do. He just... drifts toward you like a warm breeze, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to sit on the edge of your quiet and make room for himself.

He makes you feel seen in a way you don’t entirely understand.

And more than that, he makes you feel safe.

You grow up quietly. Your parents are good, hard-working people, but life is always lived with a tight belt. Nothing comes easily. You don’t ask for new clothes when yours still technically fit. You eat what’s made, say thank you, and help with the dishes. You don’t speak unless someone speaks to you first—not out of fear, just out of habit. You learned early that being invisible meant you didn’t have to explain yourself.

Pedro, though. Pedro never makes you explain.

He listens. He laughs at things you didn’t even realize were jokes. And when you say something timidly—tentative, afraid it’ll come out wrong—he nods and waits for more.

It’s strange.

Stranger still is how comfortable he seems with the rest of your world. He never acts out of place. Not when he’s helping your uncle clean the grill, not when he’s pushing your little cousin on the swing set, not even when someone makes a comment that hints at the difference in his background—the nicer clothes, the private school, the summer trips to Europe.

He never flinches. He just grins, shrugs, says something easy and charming like, “They’ve got better tortillas here anyway.”

The grown-ups laugh. The tension passes. But you notice.

You always notice.

You see the way your aunt looks at him, like she’s proud. You see the way your mother watches from the kitchen window, her mouth a tight line, like she’s not sure whether she’s grateful or suspicious.

You notice, too, how your cousins treat him like a celebrity even before he’s anyone famous. Pedro always has stories. Always makes them laugh. He’s got this effortless way of being—warm, magnetic. Like he belongs anywhere.

And still, he chooses to sit with you.

Sometimes the two of you play cards under the umbrella by the kiddie pool. Sometimes he reads next to you on the porch steps, even if it’s not the kind of book he usually likes. Sometimes you just sit in silence while the party happens around you, both of you happy not to talk.

It becomes your pattern.

Summer after summer.

And with every passing year, the feeling in your chest tightens. Because you don’t understand why he keeps coming back to you.

There are prettier girls. Louder girls. Girls who don’t stumble over their own sentences or second-guess themselves every time they open their mouths. Girls who walk into a room like they belong in it. Girls who wear the right clothes and know what to say and don’t have to stretch a dollar past its limit.

You are not one of those girls.

You are quiet. Bookish. The kind of person who knows when to disappear so other people can shine. You never expect to be picked first. You’re grateful just to be included.

And yet—Pedro notices you.

You catch him watching sometimes. Not in a weird way. Just... curious. Like he’s trying to understand something you haven’t said out loud. Like he wants to memorize the way you fold your arms across your chest when you’re nervous or how you tap your foot when you’re deep in thought.

He remembers things you forget you’ve told him. The name of your childhood cat. Your favourite scene from that one cartoon you both loved. The fact that you’ve always hated pickles and still pull them off your burgers.

One summer, you bring a sketchbook to your aunt’s backyard. You sit under the tree by the fence and draw while the others swim and shout and eat popsicles that melt too fast. You don’t expect him to notice.

But Pedro sits down beside you with a paper plate full of chips and says, “That’s amazing,” like you’ve just revealed something extraordinary.

You flush immediately. Try to flip the page.

“No, don’t hide it,” he says, gently catching the edge of the sketchbook. “It’s beautiful. You’re really talented.”

You shrug. “It’s just for me.”

“Even more reason it matters.”

You never forget that moment.

And over time, a quiet ache blooms beneath your ribs. Because you start to want more. More than summers. More than passing conversations and polite hugs and memories that fade when the air turns cold again.

But you know better than to expect it.

He’s not like you. He’s going places.

And you—you’ve always stayed.

So when he hugs you goodbye that summer, taller and tanner than he was the year before, smelling like sunscreen and clean cotton, you let your fingers linger for half a second longer. You don’t say what you want to say.

You never do.

Because no matter how many times he shows up, you still don’t quite believe he’ll stay

——

You’re sixteen when you start to wish he wouldn’t come back every summer.

It’s not because you don’t like him. In fact, that’s the hardest part to admit to yourself. Because deep down, you like him — a lot. Maybe more than a friend should. But liking him makes everything more complicated, more painful. And you’ve learned to guard yourself.

This summer is different, though. You’re not a little girl anymore, hiding under picnic tables or slipping quietly through parties. You’re older now — maybe not confident, but aware. Aware of the way people look at you, and more importantly, the way they don’t.

Pedro has changed. He’s tall now, his limbs long and graceful, like he’s growing into something bigger than your small town can hold. His laughter is louder, his smile brighter, and the way he moves makes heads turn effortlessly. You’ve watched the girls in your school – the ones with shiny, perfect hair and clothes from expensive stores – lean closer when he’s around, whispering and giggling. You’ve seen their eyes flicker toward him, the way their voices shift to a sweeter tone. You’ve even caught the way his own eyes light up in response, and you wonder if you’re just a fading shadow compared to them.

You aren’t like those girls.

You’re quiet. You’re shy. You wear hand-me-downs and second-hand shoes, and your voice catches when there are too many people around. You trip over your words and scramble to find things to say, but it never feels enough. Never polished or sharp enough to hold anyone’s attention, especially not someone like Pedro.

And yet, every summer, when he arrives — fresh from a world you don’t belong to — he seeks you out.

That first day this summer, you find yourself standing by the edge of the neighbourhood pool, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Your heart hammers when you see him across the yard. He’s leaning against the fence, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, the way the afternoon sun makes his curls glow gold. He spots you instantly, and without hesitation, he starts walking over.

“Hey,” he says, voice warm and easy, as if he’s just dropped by your house for a casual visit. “You’re avoiding everyone.”

You shrug, cheeks burning. “I’m not good with crowds.”

He nods like he understands. “Me neither.”

You want to tell him that you’re not good at this — at being noticed, at being more than invisible — but your throat tightens and the words don’t come. Instead, you shuffle your feet, unable to look at him directly.

“Come on,” he says, taking your hand gently. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

His fingers are warm against your skin, and a strange flutter spreads through your chest. You hesitate, but the invitation is too tempting, too rare.

He leads you to the little shaded garden behind the pool, where the buzz of cicadas blends with the soft rustling of leaves. You sit on a weathered bench together, the cool wood grounding you in the moment.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You listen to the distant laughter of other kids, the splash of water, the drone of summer insects. It feels peaceful, like a secret place only the two of you know.

Finally, Pedro breaks the silence. “You don’t have to pretend around me,” he says softly. “I like you just the way you are.”

Your heart clenches. You want to believe him — want to believe that someone like Pedro could see past the quiet, shy girl you’ve always been. But old fears rise up, whispering that you’re not enough. Not pretty enough. Not interesting enough. Not worthy.

“I’m not like the girls you hang out with,” you say quietly. “You could be with any of them.”

He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I don’t want any of them. I want you.”

The words hang between you, fragile and powerful. You look up, meeting his eyes — earnest, kind, unyielding.

For the first time in a long time, you feel seen.

And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe that someone like Pedro could want someone like you.

——

You hear the news almost by accident.

It’s the kind of thing that starts small—whispers, headlines scrolling past on your phone, the faint buzz of conversations in the background—but it grows, fast and unstoppable.

Pedro is becoming famous.

At first, it feels surreal. The boy you knew from childhood, the one who used to chase you around the garden or share awkward laughs by the pool, is now showing up on screens, in magazines, on posters plastered across city walls. His face—so familiar and yet suddenly untouchable—lights up billboards and streaming platforms, commanding attention in a way that feels both incredible and terrifying.

You find yourself scrolling through articles late at night, staring at pictures of him that make your chest tighten. The effortless charm, the confident smile, the way the camera loves him—it’s everything you always thought he was, but somehow so far away now.

And with his rise, everything between you shifts, too.

You try to stay grounded, to hold onto the friendship you’ve always had, but it’s like trying to catch smoke with your hands. Pedro’s world is expanding beyond anything you could’ve imagined, full of flashing cameras, glamorous events, and people who laugh too loudly at his jokes. You see his name trending on social media, and with every new interview or role announcement, your quiet little world feels smaller.

When he calls or texts, it’s harder to read between the lines. You catch moments—his exhaustion after long shoots, his frustration with the endless public scrutiny, the loneliness masked behind his easy smile. But those moments are fleeting, tucked between stories of his red-carpet appearances and glowing reviews.

You want to be proud—more than proud—of him. After all, he’s worked so hard. You remember those late afternoons in the garden when he told you about his dreams, the endless rehearsals, the rejections that almost broke him. You want to shout to the world how amazing he is.

But there’s a quieter, harder truth, too.

You feel invisible.

Not because he’s forgotten you—he hasn’t. Not because he doesn’t care—he does, in his way. But because you’re still the same girl, the one who blends into the background, while he’s stepping into the spotlight.

You wonder if he sees it, the way your voice falters when he talks about his latest project, the way you shrink when he mentions the glamorous parties you’re never invited to. You worry about the distance growing between you, the unspoken gap filled with everything you can’t say.

One evening, after one of his premieres, he calls you. His voice is tired but warm.

“Hey,” he says. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You smile, biting your lip. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too. It’s been crazy, but I’m still me. I’m still your Pedro.”

And for a moment, the world feels smaller again.

You remember why you stayed.

Why, despite everything, you still believe in the friendship you share—and maybe, in something more.

——

The night you finally stop doubting yourself — the night everything changes — isn’t marked by fireworks or grand declarations. It’s quiet, soft, like the slow unfolding of a secret only the two of you have shared all along.

You’re sitting on the worn couch in his apartment, the city lights twinkling beyond the windows like a million tiny stars, but your focus is only on him.

Pedro’s eyes hold that same gentle intensity you’ve known since childhood, the one that made you feel seen when the world tried to ignore you.

“Why did you never give up on me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, a slow, tender curve that reaches his eyes. “Because I saw you. Not just the shy girl who thought she wasn’t enough, but the one who’s brave enough to keep going anyway.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, the weight of years and unspoken feelings pressing down on you.

“I was scared,” you admit. “Scared that I wasn’t enough for you. That someone like you—someone with a world at your feet—would forget me.”

He reaches out, his hand warm as it cups your cheek. “I could never forget you. You’re part of who I am. No fame, no lights, no one else — nothing changes that.”

Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, the silence between you filled with something powerful and real.

He leans in slowly, his breath mingling with yours, the space between you charged with all the things you never said.

When your lips finally meet, it’s gentle, full of years of waiting, hope, and quiet love. The kind of love that doesn’t need to shout to be heard—it simply is.

And in that moment, you know.

No matter where life takes you, no matter the distance between your worlds, you belong here. With him. Together.

The years between you weren’t wasted—they were waiting.

Waiting for this.

Waiting for you.

[kikyoupdates]

Goddess Wink ⭑˚💘⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

Ever since your Quirk first manifested, you’ve been the apple of everyone’s eye. With the goal of becoming a hero, you enroll to U.A. and soon find yourself drawing the attention of many. Will you form genuine connections with others, or is this all just your power's will?

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You were four years old when it happened.

As far back as you could remember, you’d lived in an orphanage. You’d never met your real parents, nor did it seem like they had any intention of coming to get you, just based on how your caretakers would act. They tried to convince you that your parents must have had their reasons; that they might not have been in the right place to take care of you, but it served as little reassurance. You felt unwanted, unloved. You wondered what you could have possibly done that your own parents wouldn’t want to be with you—why all of these children were missing their families. You didn’t understand, but it felt unfair. For whatever reason, you were undesirable. At least, that’s the way you felt.

On a rather uneventful day, you were out on the playground with some of the other kids from the orphanage. They were all playing together, but you were off by the sandpit on your own, fiddling with the outfit on your doll. At some point a cluster of them had broken off, and one of the boys came right up to you, grinned, and snatched the doll straight out of your hands.

You frowned at him. “Give it back.”

“Nuh uh,” he jeered. “You’re always so boring, [Name]. You never play with the rest of us.”

“I’m not in the mood to play right now. Can you please give me my doll back?”

“What’s so fun about these dolls anyways?” The boy squinted at the toy in his hands, and without wasting a beat, popped one of the doll’s legs clean off. “Whoa!” he cried out. “They break so easily!”

You felt like you should be bursting into tears, but oddly enough, the tears didn’t come. You were eerily composed, a sense of calm washing over you. Something was telling you there was no reason to get worked up. You felt your chest growing warm, and your eyes began to glow a faint, pink shade. You stepped up to the boy and grabbed him by the wrist.

“You ruined my doll,” you said. “Apologize.”

“Huh—?” He stared back at you, dubious, and something akin to realization overtook his expression. He began to grow red in the cheeks, his breaths became irregular, and he swayed unsteadily on his own two feet. The boy stared down at the doll and its now missing leg in shock, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “I-I’m so sorry!” he spluttered. “I didn’t mean to… [Name]. I’m really, really sorry!”

You’d never seen the boy act like this before. He was always up to some sort of mischief, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to go around teasing the other girls. You glanced down to where your fingers were laced around his wrist. You tightened your grip, watching the way his blush only deepened.

“I want a new doll,” you told him.

“Of course! I’m so sorry… I’ll tell the supervisors what happened and get you a new one right away, I promise!”

Even his accomplices seemed to be confused. “Dude, why are you apologizing to her? She thinks she’s so much better than everyone else!”

“She thinks she’s too good to play with the rest of us!”

You pulled away from the first boy and stared at the other two. Still hesitant, you reached over and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. You felt something rushing or pulsing through your body. The air felt like it tasted richer, sweeter. And this time you were sure of it—the moment your hand made contact with their bodies, each of the boys grew red in the face and started rocking on their feet as if they were drunk.

“Apologize,” you ordered again.

“We’re sorry, [Name]!”

“So sorry…”

You took a step back and marveled at what had just happened. All three of them were staring at you with flushed, puffy cheeks, as if they were awaiting your next command. Your small limbs were practically oozing with power. You were sure that this must have been what everyone was always talking about—the birth of your Quirk.

“You guys can leave me alone now,” you said, crouching back down inside the sandpit. “Please make sure I get a new doll and tell the supervisors that you were the reason it broke in the first place.”

They nodded their heads furiously, already rushing over to confess their wrongdoings. You hugged your knees to your chest and inhaled shakily. You didn’t know exactly what kind of power it was, but the feeling of others being so helpless before you… it was oddly exhilarating.

—

You explained to the caretakers the gist of what had happened, and they began speculating as to what type of power you had. It was worth noting that while some became more interested in you as a result of your newly-developed Quirk, others were a bit more apprehensive after finding out what had happened to the three boys. The teachers and caretakers instructed you not to use your Quirk on others needlessly, since you presumably had a power that could control people.

Of course, you didn’t listen.

The next couple of weeks cleared up some questions you had about your Quirk. To be more exact, you weren't consciously using it. It was a difficult power to control, and you would find that it activated on its own without your awareness. It became evident that your Quirk didn’t simply enable you to control others; there were other aspects to it that you were struggling to grasp. You were too young and naive to make sense of it all, but the one thing that was seemingly apparent was that your powers relied on attracting others to you.

You’d been rather quiet and reserved for the majority of your stay at the orphanage, but now the others flocked to you like birds. The boys especially seemed most susceptible to your powers. They would follow you around for near hours at a time, even going so far as to give you presents that you hadn’t even asked for. On some occasions, the caretakers themselves would tilt their heads and smile, saying what a “cute, charming girl” you were, before letting you get away with things that normally wouldn’t have been allowed.

At first, you thought you liked your Quirk. You were getting more attention than you ever had, and for the first time, you felt loved and desired. You thought that maybe if you’d been born with this power, your parents might not have abandoned you. All of the boys in the orphanage loved you, all of the girls wanted to be your friends, and they would each go to any lengths to make you happy. You could get anything you wanted. Truly, it was the best possible Quirk.

But this too, was a fleeting feeling. Before long, the attention became overbearing. You could never get away from it all, from the looks of desire and adoration. The friendships you’d developed with the children started to feel less genuine and more fabricated. You felt like they weren’t really your friends; that your power was just forcing them to be. These ugly thoughts started to pile on more and more, to the point that you began to resent your Quirk. You couldn’t control the power leaving your body, and it felt as if you were living life trying to navigate through a misty pink haze.

Several months passed, and a visitor came to the orphanage.

“I’ve come to take you in, [Name].”

It was a man with pin-straight black hair and striking red eyes. He introduced himself as Mikael, and declared that he’d already filled out all the required paperwork to adopt you. The orphan children began to cry, lamenting the fact that you would be leaving them. You were both relieved and anxious. Even if you couldn’t control your powers, here, at least, you could rest easy knowing that everyone adored you. You’d spent all of your life in the orphanage, and you were a little afraid to leave.

This guy will probably listen to anything I say anyways…

Mikael held you by the hand and led you outside once you’d bid farewell to everyone. He looked down at you, eyes gleaming, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. “I think you’ll find that your Quirk will have no effect on me, descendant of Aphrodite.”

“Aphrodite?”

You stared up at him, confused. He didn’t answer your question and instead chuckled to himself.

“Not to worry. I will teach you how to control your Quirk in due time. You’ve been blessed with a gift, young one. A beautiful power capable of touching the hearts of many.”

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[makeitworse]

BAD HABIT

your best friend who’s hopelessly devoted to you.

𝓬ontains: f!reader x jeongin. indented format. childhood friends to lovers. slowburn. fluff. jealousy. angst. miscommunication. smut. masturbation. 18+

𝓷otes: i wasn’t intending to write so much but the ideas just kept coming. i love this concept and i love my man

since your first playdate as kids, jeongin hasn’t stopped hearing about how you’ll get married some day.

your mothers worked at the same company, and whenever their shifts clashed, they’d swap babysitting duties— handing one kid off to the other like clockwork. it worked out better than they could’ve imagined, because from the moment you met, you and jeongin were inseparable. best friends before you knew what the word meant.

you were birds of a feather. chasing each other in the grass, drawing on the pavement with chalk. you’d always ask for sleepovers; confused and pouty when your mother would turn the idea down. jeongin would bawl his eyes out when it was time for you to go home, clinging to your sleeve like it’d change their minds. you’d share everything without thinking— snacks, utensils, sipping from the same juice box straw.

once, you were playing dress up with him, trying on boy clothes from his closet. the colour drained from his mother’s face when she saw you walking around in his shirt— she gave him an earful for it. that’s when you both learned about boys and girls needing boundaries. at the time, it didn’t make any sense to you. he wasn’t just any boy. he was your favourite person in the world.

when you and jeongin started school together, the other kids caught on quick. you always sat next to each other, shared snacks, held hands on the playground. it was like walking around with a target on your back. they’d sing about you both sitting in a tree, laughing as they’d shove you together during recess. the teasing always made jeongin bright red, ducking his head and mumbling that it wasn’t like that. but once your parents caught wind of it, playdates became scarce. jeongin started wondering if the other kids saw something you didn’t understand yet.

one day, in the shade of his backyard, you’d kissed him. clumsy, silly. just another part of play— the kind of thing kids do on a dare or because they saw it in a movie. nowadays, it’s a running joke between your families, a sweet little footnote in your shared history. you don’t count it as your real first kiss, the titleholder of that coming later in your teenage years, and jeongin never contests that. but for him, that fleeting moment counts. it always did.

once puberty hit, the shift was palpable. he doesn’t know when it started exactly, but jeongin started noticing things he once didn’t pay any mind. the curve of your smile, the way your head throws back when you laugh. how your back arches when you stretch, the way you nuzzle into his shoulder when you’re sleepy. you were his awakening, no doubt about it. but he knows he’s not the only boy to see you.

he tries not to be fixated; you’re his best friend, and his mother raised him better than that. but his once innocent affection for you had become something that embarrassed him to think about. suddenly, he was averting his gaze when you’d cross your arms, pulling away when you’d reach from his hand. afterschool walks became just a memory instead of routine. he thought he was shielding you from these feelings— distancing himself out of respect. he didn’t know you noticed, or rather cared.

jeongin tried to find an outlet for the urges simmering under his skin. hallway crushes, flirting with classmates, anything to distract him from the fact what he really craved was his best friend. and besides, you started getting busy: kissing boys at parties, telling him about the cute guy you gave your number. he had no shortage of suitors of his own, but he never has the courage to go through with any of them— to just say yes when he gets asked out. but one day, it dawns on him: any girl he found himself drawn to reminds him of you. they could be your twin if you squint. it’s no coincidence.

he starts releasing these feelings in the night— when the day’s got him pent up and his thoughts are louder than his morals. in the dark, with his hand around himself and shirt between his teeth, it’s your face he sees. your voice he hears. he really tries not to— not think about how he caught your shirt ride up earlier that day, or how you clutched onto his sleeve in the crowded hallway. it’s never as good when he doesn’t imagine it’s you. but afterward, when he’s calling your name as he coats his hand— reality sinks in when you don’t answer. the shame’s always twice as heavy as the brief pleasure. sometimes he can’t even look at you the next day.

jeongin’s halfway to insanity when you start hooking up with mutual friends. he never thought being so close could become a double-edged sword. it’s an effort to hide his disapproval— nodding with a tight lipped smile when you tell him about last weekend’s hookup. but you know him better than that. you reassure him that they’re nothing serious. short-lived sparks that’ll inevitably burn out. jeongin tells himself not to let it get to him. you’re not his, and you don’t owe him anything. he repeats it like a mantra, even when resentment starts to churn in his stomach.

he wants to be supportive, to be the one you can always count on. even with all these nights spent with other guys, jeongin’s door is always open for you when you need someone. but, every time one of those flings ends and you cut them off without a second thought, a quiet fear settles in him— would that be him, too, if he ever crossed the lines he drew in the sand? he can’t risk finding out the hard way. he locks his feelings in a box and tosses away the key. it’s safer this way. even if part of him is aching to find out what would happen if he put your friendship on the line.

he really tries to force himself to move on. you even set him up with a friend— sweet, pretty, even if she’s not what he’s looking for. they end up making out at some party, her lips warm on his as she presses her body closer— but none of it’s right. nothing about her is … well, you. only when he closes his eyes and your faces flashes behind his lids that arousal finally sparks— sudden, hot, unmistakable as it digs into her thigh and she giggles in his ear. he’s pushing your friend away from him in the next breath. he won’t disrespect her like that, and your gratitude by extension. he won’t put on a farce and lead this poor girl on, when all his body has ever wanted is his best friend.

after a particularly bad breakup, it’s jeongin that you run to. it’s late, too late to knock on the front door, so you climb through his window like you used to when you were kids— only now, you’re older, heavier with hurt, and you’d be in a hell of a lot more trouble if his parents saw. jeongin holds you as you cry, tears staining his shirt as he cradles you into his chest. you sob that you just want to feel wanted— to know you’re enough for someone to stay. and when you look up at him, eyes glassy and lips trembling, his resolve snaps. he kisses you— only gently, a small peck to prove you wrong, that you are enough. it can be just like when you were kids. even if the barely contained desire behind his actions isn’t.

that night was the last time your friendship was ever the same. what followed happened slowly— neither of you sure if you’ll stop now or keep going and find out. his hands trail up your back, hesitant at first, like touching you too much might make you have second thoughts. but you’re the one to pull him closer, threading your fingers in his hair, sliding into his lap. his breath stutters when your lips find his, deeper this time, more certain. your kisses turn frantic, like you’re eager to drown out the ache with something— someone— familiar.

jeongin doesn’t push. he hasn’t gone this far before with anyone. while he wasn’t exactly waiting, it feels like it was always meant to be with you. he’s tentative in how he touches you, memorising every spot that makes you shiver, every sweet noise he can pull from you. he keeps looking to you for reassurance, where you just smile and praise him for how good he’s making you feel. you tug your pants down for him, hands fumbling beneath the covers. you guide him through it all. it’s not rushed, not careless. he must’ve asked if you were sure fifty times over.

with a hand cradling your cheek, jeongin works himself in, and he can’t help how he moans when he fills you to the hilt. he’s messy with his thrusts. a little desperate. he’s wanted you for so long he almost forgets to breathe. he’s sure he must be the worst you’ve ever had until you’re muffling your own cries by wrapping your lips around his fingers. that sends him off the edge. and when you come undone shortly after, in his arms and calling his name like he’s done for your countless of nights before— jeongin realises he’ll never get over you. not now. not after this.

after that fateful night, things fall into a rhythm— casual, easy, like second nature. you keep bickering over what movie to watch, steal bites off each other’s plates, lie side by side talking about nothing until you both fall asleep. it’s almost like you’re kids again, still just playing. only now the games involve tangled sheets and stolen kisses, soft moans muffled into pillows and skin against skin. you’re both having fun. it’s light. no pressure. the same old friendship, just more physical and intense than before. that’s what jeongin tells himself, anyways. he’s happy to be this close to you— to finally have you in the ways he’s been too afraid to admit. but it’s still not everything. is it greedy to want all of you?

home alone one evening, you invited jeongin over for drinks, which usually meant fucking like rabbits before your family got back. though this time, he’s too eager with his liquor— properly wrecked within an hour. and that’s when the words come tumbling out. years of repression soaked in tequila. he’s crying, slurring through the truth like it’s been choking him all this time. telling you how much he loves you. just how long he has. since before he even knew what love really was. and you sat there, stunned, silent. because you’d felt it too.

you’d always wanted jeongin. but it was when he started pulling away— when the touches grew cautious and the looks turned unreadable— that you thought he’d never want you the same way. so you smothered those feelings with attention from other guys, all paling in comparison to how your best friend could make you feel. the shared confessions settle between you both. you sit in the weight of everything unsaid, everything that could’ve been if either of you had just known. and when jeongin’s reaching for you, pulling you into a hug against his chest, you both agree that it’s time to stop pretending.

when you finally start actually dating, it feels both natural and entirely new. the shift from just hanging out to real dates is subtle, but it changes everything. jeongin is clumsy with it, shy in a way he never was when things were undefined. he opens car doors too fast, stumbles over compliments, and keeps checking in like he still can’t believe this is real. the truth is, he never let himself hope he’d get this far. he spent so long loving you in silence, he never once let himself imagine what it would be like to be allowed to love you out loud. it’s something he's learning in real time, one adorable misstep at a time.

jeongin becomes the kind of boyfriend who listens, even if you’re not outright telling him what you want. if you mention something you’ve been craving in passing, he’s showing up with it fresh the next day. he memorises your takeout order, your work schedule, the way you like your hair played with and how to massage you when you’re stressed. he says good morning with a kiss before you even open your eyes, and goodnight after he makes sure you got home safe. he takes candids of you when you’re not even posing or looking. and it’s not because you asked— but because he swears up and down you look prettiest without even trying.

he’ll learn how to cook your favourite dish, even if it takes a few burnt attempts and near-misses of food poisoning. when you’re upset, he doesn’t try to fix it— just sits with you, holds you, lets you fall apart in his arms without judgment. sometimes you’ll catch him staring with a stupid grin on his face. even now, he still can’t believe that he gets to call himself your boyfriend. but despite it all, he’s the same jeongin. still, always, your best friend.

✉️: @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @loveesiren @ttturnitup @breakmeoff @pinkpunkdynamite @hydeonysus

[catladyoftheyr]

She has her father’s eyes

Nanami Kento X fem reader

Dad! Nanami x reader blurb, rambling about Nanami’s daughter being a tinier version of him. Mostly fluff, little bits of past grief, protective and anxious dad

AN: this was supposed to just fluff about Nanami raising an old soul but it got real angsty in that last paragraph I’m SORRYYYYY

When your daughter was born the very first thing you’d said to Kento was “she has your eyes”. But as she grew it was becoming impossibly clear that wasn’t the only thing she’d inherited from him. You often teased your husband that you were raising the tiniest office worker in the world. Your six year old was virtually a clone of Nanami, blonde hair, chestnut eyes, and an identical personality. You’d never met a more serious child.

Report cards came home with full marks, and comments about her quiet and studious nature. Her teachers always remarked that she was an old soul, preferring reading in the shade or jumping rope with select group to rambunctious activities on the playground. Her penmanship was neat and your husband teased it was more legible than your own. She enjoyed following the rules, often complaining when other students misbehaved. One time she’d come home completely aghast and telling the story of how another girl in her class had gotten bubblegum stuck in her hair and had to have it cut out. The six year old swore off chewing gum on the spot, her pale twin braids bouncing as she babbled.

The first grader loved to help around the house as well. She delighted in dusting and sweeping with her father. Much like Kento she disliked mess, once reprimanding the family dog for a trail of muddy paw prints left across the kitchen floor. When she was done playing with her toys, she made sure to carefully arrange them how she liked; every plush friend in their designated spot and all her dolls gingerly shelved within reach.

She took a particular interest in caring for her favorite stuffed rabbit as if it were her own child. Affectionately named Dandy, the bunny was always in her arms, and held a designated seat at the dinner table as well. Dandy was well traveled for a rabbit, coming along for every car ride, vacation, and doctor’s appointment. Your heart melted every time you saw her asleep with the hare cradled in her tiny arms. You knew these days were flying by far too fast and wanted to cherish them while she was still young.

Your daughter clung to her father, a daddy’s girl through and through. You often found her cradled in his arms while he read her favorite books aloud. Whenever he had to leave for work trips the goodbyes were long and tearful, the girl begging him not to go. You held her and smoothed her hair as you tried to assure her that “papa will be just fine.” You hoped to god it was true because you knew how dangerous being a jujutsu sorcerer was. He would promise to call as often as he could and truthfully he wishes he could stay right here, to crawl back into bed with his daughter and the woman that he loves.

The two of you were his whole world and he’d never quite found the right words to express how much he cared for his family. A man who was worn down from the weight of the world on his shoulders, who learned how to share life’s burdens when he met you. He said you made him lighter and his heart grow softer. And when he held his daughter in his arms for the first time he cried. He cried joy at the miracle of life, a tiny infant who looked like all the parts of you that he loved so well, who you insisted shared his tawny eyes. But he cried out of fear as well, knowing how fragile life is, how quickly it can be taken. He knew he’d do anything to protect the child he’d made. He cried remorse and guilt, her cries reminding him of those he’d lost. He still blamed himself for friends gone far too soon, the smile of Haibara in the back of his mind, now he saw him in his little girl.

[oleander-cup]

crush next door 𖹭.ᐟ || a kiyoomi sakusa series

ch. 1 - playground // wc: 1.2k // prev - masterlist - next // content: childhood memories, moving, ooc sakusa (a reoccuring theme)

-‘๑’- Fall, 16 yrs ago (elementary school)

“Just one game?” A small child's voice calls to another child. It was a sunny day, birds were chirping and leaves were bristling in the wind. Most days as a child are remembered as nice, when you still have an optimistic view on the world. 

Currently two children are in a bit of a standoff, one wanting to stay where he is out of the sun and in the cooling shade. The other wants him to play with her, she doesn’t have a good reason for picking him out of everyone else on the playground. Perhaps it was because he was sitting by himself and she thought he could use a friend. 

Whatever the reason may be there they were. “I don’t want to. I want to sit right where I am.” The boy huffed as he crossed his arms and kept distance between the two of them. 

“But I want to be your friend,” the girl responded as she took a step closer to him. “We can play in the sandbox! There’s a shaded area so you won’t be in the sun.” She tried to bargain with the boy.

“Will you be quiet if I do?” 

“Come on,” she holds her hand out and waits for the boy with the dark curls to take her hand. He lets out a sigh —it’s quite a funny emotion to see on a child his age, and takes her hand. The two walk to the sandbox and sure enough there’s a small patch of sand that remains untouched by the sun. As much as he hates the feeling of sand getting stuck in his clothes he climbs in with her.

“What’s your name?” The girl asks beginning to make a hole in the sand. 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he answers simply as he helps her make a hill in the middle of the hole she was digging. 

“I’m L/N Y/N,” she gives him a kind smile as he helps her. Sakusa can’t quite place the feeling but his heart seems to beat a little faster at her smile. He gives her a small smile back, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. 

The two stay like that until their teacher calls them back inside. Playing in the sand and talking about meaningless things like why is the sky blue, how do leaves change color in fall, do you think if I jumped off that I could land on my feet? The endearing things children usually ramble about.

-‘๑’- Summer, present time

You see the moving truck in the driveway of the house next to you and smile. It had been so long since someone had lived there, you were happy the house was finally getting used. You rush around your kitchen gathering flour and other ingredients to makes cookies. 

You wanted to make a housewarming gift for the neighbor. You hoped they liked sweets otherwise it would be an awkward walk back to your house with a container of cookies. While the cookies were in the oven you changed out of your flour stained clothes into something a little more presentable. 

When the timer finally went off to let you know the cookies were done you grabbed a Tupperware from your cabinet and placed a cloth inside to put the cookies on. You put an oven mitt on and carefully set the warm sheet tray on top of the stove. You let them sit for ten minutes as you gathered bottles of water and a can of soda. 

If they didn’t like the cookies they would at least take the drinks, you hoped. Once the cookies were safely sealed inside of the container you start making your way over to the house next door. The moving truck had left so you hoped it was a good time to visit and that you weren’t interrupting anything. You take a deep breath before knocking on the door. 

What you weren’t expecting when the door opened was to see a familiar set of curls. A wide smile breaks across your face as your eyes light up. “Kiyoomi,” you say simply. It seems he’s just as shocked as you were. It doesn’t take him very long before he’s pulling you into a hug. 

The hug is a little awkward with the Tupperware still in your arms but you take it in stride. You pull away and look up at him in awe. “It’s good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you too,” he says with a smile of his own etched into his face. “I didn’t know you lived down here.” 

“Yeah, have for a few years. What are you doing here?”

“I play for the MSBY Black Jackals.”

“Oh! You still play volleyball?” He nods and notices the Tupperware in your hands. 

“Here,” he holds his hands out and takes the Tupperware from you. “You’re still baking I see. I’ll finally get to have your sweet treats again,” he says with a smile.

“Yeah, I opened up my own bakery. You’ll have to come by some time, my treat.” 

“It’s a date. You should come to one of my games, I can save you seats.” He sounds a little nervous as he asks, like he’s expecting a rejection. 

“I would love to. It’s been forever since I’ve seen you play.” Your feet shuffle around, you were elated to see him but it was also a bit nerve racking. You hadn’t spoken in years, losing touch after you had to move. 

“I have to get back to unpacking but why don’t you come over Friday? We can have dinner and watch a movie.” 

“I would like that,” you say softly and plays with her necklace. He catches the glint of metal moving on the necklace and he teases her lightly.

“Still wearing that?” He motions his head towards her necklace. You pull it out from under your shirt and show off the ring hanging from it, it’s slightly rusted from age but still in decent condition.

“Of course, where’s yours?”

“I don’t want to lose it so I put it on a keyring and attached it to my volleyball bag.” You let out a small laugh as you think of the circumstances. 

“It seems I was right about them.”

“You were.” 

“Do you need help unpacking?” You ask and gesture towards the boxes piled high behind him. 

“No, I already have someone helping. You get back home, I’ll see you Friday.” He turns to set the Tupperware of cookies down before he pulls her into another hug. “It was good seeing you Y/N.” 

You wrap your arms around him and take a deep breath. You almost forgot how nice his hugs were. “It was good to see you too, Kiyoomi. I figure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other since you’re so close again.”

He gives you a gentle squeeze before you pull away from the hug. “I would like that.” You give him one last smile and a wave as you begin walking back over to your house. He doesn’t close his door until he sees you’re safely back inside. 

“And who was that Omi Omi?” His face drops as he heard the voice of Atsumu. He sighs and picks the Tupperware up to take it to his kitchen. 

“A friend.” He doesn’t offer more context than that, he doesn’t need to.

“Aww, I didn’t know you had friends outside of the team Omi Omi!” Atsumu teases him as he breaks down a box and throws it in the recycling can. 

“Just keep unpacking Atsumu.” He rolls his eyes as he goes back to unpacking the box of kitchen supplies.

gen (fill out this form) @tansypansydandy @phoenix-eclipses @h-llsp-wn

masterlist

[jazziejax]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Lamont Diggs x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Who knew that coming back to city where her parents were raised would lead to something cute happening between her and this random man

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none…I think…

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳��𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 -I don’t even know if this is anyone’s cup of tea but I wrote it. This has been my man since Earl and the dying girl, so don’t even. I’ve searched high and low for anything for him in any way, shape or form and I’ve only seen one. So this was lowkey just for me, but I hope y’all enjoy. As you can see I’ve been in a a little writing rampage a bit but that doesn’t mean get your hopes up.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3,629+

The morning sun poured into the Porsche panoramic window as the car curried through the Miami streets. The woman driving kept glancing in the rearview mirror, looking at the small boy in the back seat as he nodded his along with the song on the radio. He sat in his car seat, swinging his little legs, his curls pulled into the intricate stitch cornrows she had given him the night before, still fresh on his scalp. She smiled softly as she looked back at him, in his own world as he passionately mouthed the words to ‘As’ by Stevie Wonder. They had been in Miami for almost a month now, and she wanted to check in on how he was feeling about his new school.

“How’s school going, lil dude?” She asked, breaking him from his song trance while she adjusted her shades, pulling them to rest on her head as she slowed down at a red light.

Raheem perked up, kicking his feet a little. “It’s good! I got new friends!” He grinned, looking over at her in the driver's seat rather than trying to look into the mirror. Cree smiled, glancing at him through the mirror. “Oh yeah? Who?” What are they like?”

“Um… Mateo, he’s funny. And Louie, he’s my best friend ever because we like Power Rangers. And—oh!—Melissa! She always shares her fruit snacks with me!”

Cree raised an eyebrow, amused. “Your best friend, huh? Well, what ranger is he?” She asked curiously but fully amused by his storytelling and enthusiasm. She was so relieved that the move from Brooklyn didn’t have that much of an effect on him. They had their struggles at first, new school, and her trying to explain why they up and moved so abruptly, but things seemed to be going better.

“If I’m the blue ranger, he’s obviously the red one, Ma,” Raheem stated, as if it was as clear as day. And to him it was, this was basic ranger knowledge. Cree simply scoffed a bit, jerking her head back at his little attitude even though she wasn’t facing him. “Oh, well excuse me then, Mr.Blue Ranger. Sorry if I want to be sure.” She said. “You know, I liked the Power Ranger before you were even born.” She said, causing the boy to let out a small groan at the words she always seemed to have ready to repeat.

“I know, Ma.” He said, causing Cree to laugh a little since he sounded genuinely disappointed that he wasn’t the first Power Ranger fan in existence. “What else has been up at school?” She continued. He continued to tell her about what he learned, his friends, and he always loved telling her about what they had for lunch and recess his favorite parts of the day. Today, he told her about how they played kickball and he won a pack of gushers from a student. Cree chuckled. “Well, sounds like you’re running the playground already.” She cheesed, even though it sounded a little like gambling since the students sort of better on him to win.

Raheem grinned, dimples popping, before turning his attention back to the colorful backpack on his lap and the new song on the radio, ‘Apparently’ by J. Cole. Soon, they pulled up to the school, and Cree put the car in park near the drop-off area. She hopped out of the car and walked over to his side as she pulled her shades down, opening the back door and looking down at him.

“Alright, little man, you ready?” She asked with a small smile and an expectant brow. Raheem nodded as she helped him unbuckle. Once free, he hopped out with his backpack on. They did their small handshake, three fist pumps before backing away with an explosion, they then pointed at each other, a knowing look on their face. “And that’s what happened to the dinosaurs.” They stated at the same time, causing Cree to laugh at the stupid joke he had come up with while Raheem was genuinely amused.

He then began to walk into the building, being dined by his teacher waiting out front. She waved at her, causing Cree to do the same with a polite smile. Raheem looked back at her expectantly.

“Be good.” She called out.

Raheem nodded his head at that, giving her a small wave as rich brown skin glowed in the Miami sun, his dimples deepening as he smiled wide at her before disappearing into the school building.

From down the lot, Mia stood by her car, watching the adorable exchange while she waited for Melissa to head inside. Her eyes flicked back to the woman standing by the sleek black Porsche, dressed in oversized shades, a cute little white dress that showed liked legs, paired with a light blue flannel and cute blue sandals that showed her manicured toes—nothing too out of the ordinary for Miami, but something about her felt familiar.

It wasn’t until the woman turned toward her car that Mia’s eyes widened in realization.

No way.

Cree.

The Cree.

Mia’s breath caught for a second as Cree rounded her car, and through the dark shades, Mia swore the woman had glanced her way, offering a small, polite smile before sliding into the driver’s seat like it was just another regular morning and driving off.

Mia stood frozen for a second before quickly jumping into her car. She grabbed her phone and dialed up the girls, her voice hushed but urgent.

“Y’all… tell me why I just saw Cree at my kid’s school.”

They immediately doubted her.

“Nuh, uh!”

“Girl, stop playing.”

“I swear it was her! I saw her drop a little boy off—she had on the shades, this cute ass outfit, and everything.” Mia screamed.

“Cree don’t got no kids, girl.” One of the girls said to her.

“I’m telling you, I know it was her. She looked at me. And she was driving a fucking Porsche, don’t non of these bad ass kids mama’s drive no damn Porsche!” Mia tried to get them to understand, but they still didn’t believe her.

“Maybe it was some girl that looked like her. I mean, she ain’t all that to not have a few bitches around here that she favor.” One of the girls stated.

“Plus, what would she be doing out here anyway? Especially with a kid.”

Still met with disbelief, Mia huffed and hung up before calling Shawna and telling her who she saw at Melissa’s school, and this time, she got more of a reaction closer to hers.

Shawna didn’t even hesitate. “Wait… like Cree Cree?” The woman asked, on her cell phone at the front desk of her job at the Plymouth Hotel. “The Cree? The one that made Pretty Little Birds, Cree? Or the Cree Summer, who is equally as iconic in my opinion.”

“No, bitch, not that Cree. The one that made Pretty Little Birds, Cry Baby, all that.” Mia stated causing Shawna to gasp loudly, before quickly looking up and around her surroundings. She paused for a moment before looking back down at the phone, gaping. “Are you for real? Was it really her?” She questioned excitedly.

“Yes!” Mia practically whispered in excitement. “The one who got her money stolen—Cree.”

Shawna gasped. “Nooo. What the hell is she doing in Miami? And at Melissa’s school?”

“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”

Without missing a beat, Mia sooner ended the call and opened her Instagram, hit record on her Story, and stared into the camera.

“Y’all… I think I just saw Cree at my kid’s school.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Cree hadn’t planned on going to the studio that day.

She was supposed to just run errands—hit the grocery store, pick up some things for Raheem, and maybe squeeze in a quick workout before heading back to his school to pick him up. But it seems as if fate has other plans, because she was texting her good friend, Joey, about that studio he knew about in Miami and getting not only the address, but her own secession for a few hours, and she couldn’t pass up that offer.

She stepped into the dimly lit studio, adjusting her shades as she took in the familiar scent of burnt sage and the hints of weed lingering in the air. The space wasn’t anything fancy— or what she was used to, just a simple setup with soundproofed walls, a sleek mixing board, and a booth on the order side of the glass panel. But it was enough. She didn’t need luxury right now; she needed a place where she could work.

She set her bag down and pulled out her laptop, connecting it to the system while scrolling through some beats she had been messing around with. It had been months since she had been in a studio like this, just her and the music, no distractions, no deadlines, no industry bullshit clouding her thoughts. She cracked her knuckles, took a sip of her iced coffee, and got to work.

The first hour was all about finding the right vibe. She tapped through instrumentals, tweaking bass lines, layering synths, and shifting drum patterns until something finally clicked. The beat she landed on was slow but heavy, dripping with Miami influence—smooth keys, a deep, rolling bassline, and a rhythm that made you want to ride down Ocean Drive with the top down.

She hummed along, letting the melody sink in before pulling out her notebook. Lyrics had been piling up in her head for weeks now, bars scribbled in the margins of receipts, on the backs of grocery lists, and even typed into her Notes app at random times of the day. She flipped through the pages, piecing together the words that fit the mood.

“I'll touch that fire for you

I do that three, four times again, I testify for you…”

She smirked, nodding along as she caught the flow. The pen hit the paper again, and she kept writing.

The next two hours flew by in a blur of recording takes, layering harmonies, and punching in lines until they hit just right. Cree wasn’t rushing anything—she was just feeling it. It was the first time in a long time that making music felt fun again. It’s been months since the scandal of her scamming manager hit the internet and no one has heard from her. Not a post on social media, not a single interview, nothing. And she wanted to stay silent until her case was over because one thing she’d learned from being a celebrity, is to just shut the hell up. Nothing you say will ever protect your ass from people who already set out to hate you, and you never know how your words can be twisted. Plus, this was a court case about her hard-earned money, not some show for people to watch.

By the time her session was wrapping up, she had a solid demo. It wasn’t perfect, but it was her and it was something she was going to work on. And right now, that was all she needed.

She glanced at the clock—Raheem would be out of school soon. With a satisfied sigh, she packed up her things, saved her files onto her hard drive, and made her way toward the exit.

Cree adjusted her shades as she stepped out of the studio, her mind still wrapped up in the music she had just been working on. It had been months since she last dropped anything, but today felt right. Being back in Miami, back in a space where she could create freely, had sparked something in her again. She was zoning out, already thinking about her next session, when—

BAM.

She walked straight into someone.

Her denim tote bag slipped off her arm, and before she could catch it, everything in her hands went flying—Raheem’s iPad, her phone, her keys, and her hard drive, all clattering to the floor.

“Shit.” She muttered, quickly bending down.

“My bad.” A voice said at the same time, reaching to help.

Cree’s heart skipped for a second when she glanced up. The man crouching in front of her was tall, built just right, with smooth brown skin and a face that looked both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He took up the black phone first, taking it into his hands and quickly checking for scratches before handing it over. “This yours?”

She took it, brushing her fingers over the case. “Yeah, thanks.” She said as she picked up the fallen items from her purse, stuffing old receipts, loose candy, and even a small Power Rangers action figure, into the large bag.

The stranger picked up Raheem’s iPad next, glancing at the colorful case before handing it over. “Got a kid?” He questioned casually with a tilt of his head, though a small smile was on his face.

Cree nodded, shoving the tablet into her bag. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.” She sighed, trying not to overthink the question and get into explaining her complicated life situation.

The man hummed like he had a response on the tip of his tongue but held back. He simply handed her the rest of her things before standing up. “I ain’t mean to run into you like that. You good?”

Cree dusted herself off, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Yeah, I’m straight. It’s cool.”

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on her for a beat longer than necessary, like he was trying to place her. She knew that look.

She also knew better than to stick around for it. As attractive as he was, she had no pleasure in dealing with that right now.

“Alright then.” She said, offering a polite nod before stepping past him, and making her way toward the exit. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away.

The man stood there for a moment, brows slightly furrowed. Her face, her voice—something about her nagged at him. Before he could think on it too long, something colorful on the ground caught his eye.

“Oh, shit.”

He bent down, picking up a red hard drive that had a worn Denzel Washington sticker, his character from American Gangster slapped on the front. His eyes flicked up just in time to see the door down the hall close behind her as she exited.

“Yo, wait!” He called out, breaking into a jog toward the exit. “Aye!”He tried again, but by the time he pushed through the door and stepped into the Miami sun, the Porsche was already at the lot’s edge, easing onto the main road. “Hey!” He yelled again, picking up his pace. He made it halfway across the lot before the car merged into traffic. He stood there, hands on his hips, watching as it disappeared down the street.

“Shit.” He hissed softly.

He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders and slightly shaking his head before looking down at the hard drive in his hands. He flipped it over, hoping for some kind of contact info on it. Nothing—just one word, engraved in smooth cursive in the back.

‘Cree.’

His brows furrowed as he repeated the name in his head. It sounded familiar. Before he could think on it too long, he glanced at his watch. His eyes widened.

“Shit!”

He was almost late to pick up Melissa from school.

Cree, however, had no idea her hard drive was missing. All she could think about was her music and getting to school to pick up Raheem. Well, that and the man she bumped into earlier.

He was fine as hell. Tall, and built just right with his slim but muscular body. He had dreads, his black hair completing his smooth brown skin—it had been a while since she’d looked at a man like that and actually lingered on the thought. Being famous from a decently young age messed with how she saw relationships. She didn’t really get to have many normal ones, at least not the kind that didn’t make it to the public eye or was with someone in the industry. But even if she were looking for something—which she wasn’t, not with how life was going right now—she wouldn’t be dumb about it.

Still, that wasn’t gonna stop her from smiling a little at the thought of seeing him again. He was fine as fuck.

The school’s parking lot was already packed when she pulled up. She had to wait a few minutes before the teachers started escorting the kids out. Getting out of the car, she leaned against the side of her door, eyes scanning the sea of kids until she spotted that familiar brown skin and those neat cornrows.

As soon as Raheem saw her, his face lit up.

“Ma!” He said as he began to run over to her.

Cree opened her arms, laughing as he ran straight into her, wrapping his little arms around her waist. “Hey, baby! You had a good day?” She asked.

“Mhm! We had pizza for lunch, and Ms. Carter let me be the line leader today!”

“Ooooh, big boss moves, huh?” She gave him a high-five before leading him to the car. “Alright, let’s get you buckled in. We might go see GG and ‘nem today.”

She was strapping him into his car seat when she felt someone walking up behind her. Years of being in the public eye, where paparazzi and strangers had no boundaries, had her instincts sharp as hell. Without thinking, she flinched back and balled her fist, ready to swing at whoever was creeping up on her.

“Woah, it’s not even like that!”

The voice made her pause just as she was about to let her fist fly. She paused as she studied the person before her, eyes narrowing—and sure enough, it was the man from earlier. Except this time, he wasn’t alone. He stood with a little girl beside him, hand in hand. She was cute, all big brown eyes and two neat ponytails, smiling up at her politely.

Cree exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she lowered her fist. “Damn, you can’t be sneaking up on people like that.”

He chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “My bad, my fault. I ain’t mean to startle you like that.” He stated, trying not to laugh at her startled expression since he almost got sucker punched in the face, in front of his daughter.

Said the little girl blinking up at her. “Hi.” She said with a cute smile. Her locs were in adorable pigtails and her brown skin made her chubby cheeks look so kissable under the Miami sun. Cree’s face softened as she returned the smile. “Hi.” She said with a little wave.

The man cleared his throat, breaking himself out of his own stare of starting at the woman before him before extending his arm, something red in his hand. “You dropped this back at the studio.”

She looked down and her eyes widened when she saw her hard drive, immediately reaching for it. “Oh, shit—” She caught herself, glancing at Raheem, who was already watching closely. “I mean, shoot. Damn, I didn’t even realize it was gone.”

“Yeah, I tried to catch you, but you was already gone.”

Cree smirked, tucking the hard drive into her bag. “I be moving quick.” She said, trying to remove the awkward tension that sort of lingered from her almost hitting him, their literal run-in and just all-around speaking since they didn’t know each other.

“I see that.” He smirked as he tilted his head slightly, that same lingering look from earlier settling in his eyes. “You Cree, huh?”

She arched a brow, catching the way her name rolled off his tongue. She liked the way he said it. “I mean, that’s what it says on the back, don’t it?”

His lips twitched in amusement, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he nodded toward the girl beside him. “This my daughter, Melissa.”

Cree looked down and gave her a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Melissa. This is my nephew, Raheem.”

Raheem, who had been quiet up until now, squinted up at the man before looking down at Melissa. “This is Melissa from my school.” He said, looking back at his aunt, who made a face of surprise since she remembered he mentioned the girl earlier.

Melissa nodded. “Yeah, we’re in Ms. Carter’s class.” She grinned, looking up at her dad. The man’s brows lightly raised as she nodded, indulging in the information the kids delivered. Raheem’s face lit up. “Me too!” He said as if the little girl hadn’t already said that. Cree chuckled as the two kids immediately fell into small conversation, excitedly chatting about their classmates to the adults.

Cree folded her arms, eyes flicking back to the man. “So, do I get a name, or you just gonna keep staring at me like you tryna figure something out?” She asked eyes squinted to block the sun that shined over his head like a halo as she arched a brow at him.

He let out a low chuckle, running a hand over his loc’d hair before finally extending his other one toward her. “It’s Lamont.”

Cree took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Well, Lamont, I really appreciate you returning my hard drive. You don’t even know how much this truly means to me.”

“No problem. It looked important.”

“It is.” She, hosing the device tight in her grip as she moved to finish buckling Raheem into his car seat, before turning back and giving him a knowing smirk. “Lucky you found it.” She said. “I probably would’ve never seen this thing again if it wasn’t for you.”

Lamont smirked back. “Yeah… lucky me.”

@saturnville @henneseyhoe @notapradagurl7 @sy-monee @zillasvilla @slvt4her @saltburnsworld @melaninhawtie @j0ysyndr0m3 @moooonluvr @

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: You haven’t gotten along with Tabito Karasu in a long, long time. However, when a chance encounter with a mysterious woman leads to the two of you switching places, you find out that maybe there’s more to him than you realized.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 8.4k

Content Warnings: crack fic, reader is implied to be smaller/weaker/less athletic than karasu, miscommunication of the sort you’d expect from a k-drama, VERY unserious and stupid, crude humor, non-explicit mentions of karasu’s dick, reader explicitly does NOT have a dick, i haven’t watched the movie freaky friday in ages so don’t expect it to follow that plot or anything, random old lady’s divine intervention saves this dumbass girl failure x boy loser relationship

A/N: to be honest i have nothing to say for myself. there is 0 reason for this to be as long as it is considering how legitimately idiotic of a plot it has LMAOAO but i couldn’t help myself from writing it…i watched an edit of **** and ***** from jjk set to the song ‘freaky friday’ and i was like. inspired. idk. if this is your first time reading smth by me i promise i usually am better than this 😭

The margins of your Mathematics notebook were littered with intricate sketches, pretty birds and flowers arcing alongside the equations that you copied down from the board when you remembered to look up at it. If anyone else in the class could see how little you truly paid attention, they’d likely be furious; after all, you consistently had high marks, often even managing to be first in the class despite your constant distraction.

One person in particular would likely have a heart attack, but considering you liked him the least out of everyone in the entire school, the prospect filled you with a sort of joy and determination to continue in exactly the manner you had been. Tabito Karasu — in his honor, you drew a crow next to the swoop of an integral that you had not bothered with solving, and then, for your personal satisfaction, you crossed it out.

“Yo.” You had not noticed the bell ringing, so caught up were you with shading in the petals of a sunflower, the tip of your pencil growing dull from the heavy, repetitive strokes. “My mom told me to tell you that yours left her purse at our house, so if you could come get it after school, that would be great.”

You glanced up at Karasu, who was standing in front of your desk, his bag slung over one shoulder, his lopsided smile noticeably vanished. It always was when he spoke to you, his face never anything but solemn on those occasions.

“Again?” you said. “Sure.”

“Cool,” he said. “See you then, I guess.”

You wrinkled your nose at his receding back, gathering your own things and following him sedately out of the classroom before splitting off to head to your next period, not even affording him a farewell in return for his half-hearted attempt.

There had been a time, when you were both very young, that you and Karasu had been friends. It wasn’t really your choice, of course. Your mothers had known one another since their college days and thus had been determined to raise their children side-by-side, but neither of you had minded too much.

When your minds were innocent and plain, things came easily and simply. You would make castles in the sandbox of the playground by his house, racing one another down the slides as your mothers watched you and conversed. It had been nice. Back then, Karasu had been a person you could be fond of, and so you had been. He had been your best friend, your only friend, really, and he had even sworn to you that he would always be so, interlocking his pinky with yours and saying that it was a promise.

Anyways, promises were easily made and easily forgotten back then. Not so long after you entered grade school, he abandoned you entirely, sneering at you if you dared to approach him, turning away whenever you waved at him in the hallways. You understood quickly enough what he meant by it, and you grew to resent him as much as you had once cared for him.

It had happened long enough ago that now, there was just an awkward sort of tension between you two whenever you spoke. He must’ve known that you didn’t like him, hadn’t for a while, and he never really pressed the issue, though he never did anything to fix it, either. You doubted he cared; after all, he only ever spoke to you if he absolutely could not avoid it, and you operated by the same policy.

“Hey, Y/N, we’re all thinking of staying after school to study for the Chemistry exam,” your best friend said to you as you settled into your seats for Economics, the one class you both shared. “Wanna come? I know you don’t really need it or anything, but it’d be fun if you were around.”

“You just want me to explain everything to you so you don’t have to read the textbook,” you said.

“Guilty,” she said with a grin that suggested she did not feel very guilty at all. “Sorry, but it’s a really boring textbook.”

“It’s a drag,” you agreed. “I’d say yes, but I can’t. My mother forgot her purse at Karasu’s house when she was visiting, so I have to go with him and grab it on my way back home.”

Your best friend winced. “I’m sorry. Will you be okay? I can come, if you want.”

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” you said, shaking your head. “It’ll be alright. You need all of the studying time you can get, so don’t concern yourself with me.”

“If you say so,” she said reluctantly. “Call me if you change your mind, okay? I think my exam grade is well beyond the point of saving now, so I don’t mind giving up some studying time to help you out.”

“All the more reason for you to study longer,” you said. “Seriously, relax. It’s not like I’m planning on staying there for long. I’ll be so quick that there won’t even be any time for things to get weird.”

The day was over before you knew it, and then you were trudging out of the building, scanning the front entrance for Karasu and finding him leaning against the brick wall of the school, gesturing wildly as he laughed at something one of his teammates had said.

You waited for his teammate to leave, and only then did you approach, stopping a distance away from him and folding your hands behind your back as you waited for him to notice you. He did so almost immediately — he was keen like that, ever aware of everything happening in his general vicinity — and his back straightened, the mirth from earlier dropping into the melancholy you were more used to.

“Let’s go,” you said.

“Yes, let’s,” he said. “Come on. If we cut through town, we’ll get there faster.”

“Okay,” you said.

The two of you walked in silence after that, Karasu’s hands shoved in his pockets as he shuffled along beside you. You hugged a never-opened Economics textbook to your chest, your heart beating against the hard cardboard of the cover.

“How have you been?” Karasu said after a while, when the quiet must’ve grown to be unbearable for his typically talkative self.

“Fine,” you said.

“Same,” he said.

“I didn’t really ask,” you said.

“Right,” he said, “Sorry.”

“There’s no need for any of this,” you said. “We’re not friends, so don’t act like we are. I’m going to your house to pick up my mother’s purse, and then I’m leaving. That’s it.”

“Right,” he said again. You thought he must be relieved that you had given him leave to disregard you. Thus assured that he would leave you alone, you allowed your mind to wander, mulling over the assignments you had due the next day and figuring out a plan to complete them that would require the least amount of effort possible.

“Excuse me!”

You both were passing through a part of town that you did not frequent when the door to a storefront swung open, revealing a wizened old lady. Her thick gray hair was gathered in a knot at the nape of her neck, and her posture was stooped over but her expression was no less intense for the age she showed. You jumped at the abruptness of her exclamation, and you sensed Karasu had been equally as surprised, though he remained far more collected than you had.

“We don’t want to buy anything,” he said bluntly, without even waiting for her to explain.

“It’s not wares I sell,” the woman said. “It’s fortunes.”

“Not interested,” he said, though not without glancing at you, so briefly that you almost believed you had imagined it.

“Listen, boy, I don’t look into the future for just anyone. It’s a rare soul that attracts my attention, and here I have two in front of me! You’ll avoid a lot of misery if you agree to it,” she said.

“We’ll take the misery,” Karasu said. “Like I said, we’re good. Leave us alone, old crone.”

“Be careful who you’re rude to,” the woman said, her irises gleaming. “It’s already cost you once, hasn’t it?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched from how hard he grit his teeth at that. “You’re just saying things.”

“Ma’am,” you said, finally deciding to speak up. This entire conversation was such a waste of time, and furthermore if Karasu was irritated, then you felt as though there was a chance he’d lash out and you’d be the unfortunate victim. “Every minute we are delayed here is another minute I must spend with him, and considering I don’t like him all that much, I’d prefer if we could get on with it.”

“Is that the case?” she said, and then she beamed at you, her lips peeling back in a more sinister form of the expression than she ought to have been capable of. “But wouldn’t you give anything if you could go back to how things once were? I know that he would.”

“Shut up,” Karasu snapped, his face uncharacteristically red. “What the hell do you know about me, anyways? About either of us?”

She began to laugh, and it was a rattling, wheezing sound which made even your own chest ache. Karasu glared at her, but she ignored him completely, cackling and cackling, slapping her knee as if he were an award-winning comedian who had just made the joke of the century. Despite yourself, you inched towards him; he was far from your preferred partner, but you thought that if she were to suddenly lunge at you or something, he was probably your best bet at survival.

“I have seen many versions of you in my lifetime, and you have all said the same. What do I know about you?” the woman said. “Well, well. I’d wager I know quite a bit about you, indeed. How about this? I’ll give you a gift — on the house, of course. Then we’ll see who knows what.”

“We don’t fucking need any gifts,” Karasu said. “Y/N, let’s get out of here. She’s crazy.”

“You can’t deny a gift that’s been freely given!” she shouted gleefully after you as you strode away. “It’s yours, whether you like it or not. Enjoy yourself, baby crow — you may thank me yet!”

Whether it was a placebo borne of the woman’s odd behavior or a symptom of the atmospheric pressure dipping before an out-of-season storm, you noticed that there was a headache mounting behind your left eyebrow. You kept silent about it as you dutifully followed Karasu towards his house, but it was definitely uncomfortable, and whenever he looked away, you’d press the pads of your fingers against the source of the pain in a fruitless effort to alleviate it.

Neither of you said anything until you reached his porch; he had been jarred by the conversation with the woman, though he disguised it with a scowl — it was obvious from the tension of his shoulders, however, and as for you, you relished in the tranquility, which was what you had been seeking the entire time.

“She was full of shit,” he informed you as he unlocked his front door and motioned for you to go inside. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you, but you had long ago come to the conclusion that the woman was just searching for a way to make a quick sale, so you were unruffled.

“I didn’t think otherwise,” you said. You hadn’t been to his house in a while, but it still looked the same as you remembered it, down to the Siamese cat curled up on the couch — although, of course, far more gray peppered her muzzle than the last time you had seen her. You scratched her under the chin as you waited for Karasu to return with the purse, and without even opening her eyes, she purred at you, rubbing her face against the back of your palm.

“Here you go,” he said, tossing the purse at you. You reached up and caught it with the hand you weren’t using to pet his cat, and then you offered her one last stroke in farewell before heading back to the front door.

“Thanks,” you said.

“Right,” he said. “Anytime. Later, Y/N.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder before nodding, figuring there was no harm in one final act of politeness. No matter the grudge you held against him or how justified it was, you supposed you could be the bigger person this singular time. “Later, Karasu.”

The walk between your houses was not so long, but for some reason, it dragged on and on — a symptom of your headache, maybe? By the time you reached your own doorstep, the world was spinning, and after returning your mother’s purse to her, you stumbled up to your room, flopping face-first on your bed.

A few minutes later, there was a knock. With a groan, you rolled over so that you were lying on your back, a hand covering your eyes so that the fading twilight did not worsen the pounding that had spread from your left eyebrow to your forehead and the back of your neck.

“Come in,” you mumbled out. Your mother poked in her head, a bowl of soup in her hands, a kind frown on her face.

“Are you alright?” she said, sitting beside you and setting up your pillows so you could lean against them.

“My head is killing me,” you said. She pressed her hand against your brow, pursing her lips.

“Doesn’t feel like a fever,” she said. “Here, have this.”

She handed you the soup, which she must’ve been making for dinner. You accepted it gratefully, the heat of the bowl against your skin helping, if only slightly. Taking a sip, you sighed and offered a smile.

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m just going to do my homework and then sleep early. Hopefully it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“It looks like there’s going to be a nasty storm tonight, so that could be what’s messing with you,” your mother said, confirming your earlier thoughts. “On the bright side, your father and I won’t have to water the plants.”

“That’s good,” you said as she got up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and closing your curtains so that only your dim, warm lamp lit the room.

“Text me if you want me to bring up some ibuprofen for you,” she said. “But finish that soup first. It’s not good to eat on an empty stomach.”

“I’ll keep you posted, but I think just getting to bed is going to do the most good at this point,” you said. “Thanks again, mama.”

“I miss when you used to call me that all of the time,” she said. “Now my baby’s growing up. Soon you’re going to get married and leave your father and I all alone.”

“Not for a while,” you said with a smile. She scrunched up her nose and blew you a kiss.

“I’ll leave you alone. I hope you feel better soon, honey. Try not to work too hard,,” she said, shutting the door gently, so that it did not slam.

Your homework took you a couple of hours, and it was dark by the time you finished. Only the thought of the further aggravation it would bring should you not complete it managed to push you through the maddening exercise, as your headache had not lessened any in that time. If anything, the steady process of your schoolwork only made it worse, and it was all you could do to get ready for bed before diving in between your sheets and burying your face back in your pillow, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

You had many dreams that night, most of them unrelated, though the common thread was Karasu. He was in all of them, whether in the background or as a main focus, and indeed when you woke up gasping and in a sweat, his face was the only thing you remembered.

Based on the sun streaming through the window, you had slept for the entire night. An unfamiliar alarm was blaring from your nightstand, and you reached out to silence it before pausing.

The room you were in was not your own. It was different, the sheets a deep navy shade, the blanket a plain gray, an L-shaped desk with a PC on it in the corner. There was a shelf beside the desk, books shoved in between gold soccer trophies — soccer trophies?

“What the fuck?” you said before clapping your hands over your mouth, your jaw dropping as you scrambled out of the bed, your limbs flailing about when the drop ended up being smaller than you had anticipated. Grabbing your phone off of its charger — what the hell was with that bland case? — you raced over to the mirror propped up by the closet.

Upon seeing the reflection in it, you screamed, because for some reason, instead of your own body, it was Tabito Karasu’s staring back at you. You raised one hand and then the other, hoping and praying that it wasn’t real, that you were hallucinating or something, but the reflection followed your movements exactly. When you pinched yourself, that, too, hurt, which meant that somehow, this was happening.

If you were in Karasu’s body, then what about your own? Was he in yours, or had it just vanished or something? You turned on his phone, unlocking it using Face ID and opening the call app. You doubted he had you saved as a contact — after all, the two of you had stopped being friends long before either of you had gotten cellphones — so you went straight for typing in your number, pausing for a moment as it suggested a contact name.

Y/N <3

“What?” you said. There were so many things that needed to be unpacked there, but you decided it wasn’t even worth considering. You had more pressing issues; namely, how had this preposterous situation even developed?

Clicking on the Y/N <3 contact, you held the phone up to your ear, hoping that whoever currently had possession of you would pick up instead of ignoring the call.

“Hello? Who is this?” Hearing your own voice on the other end of a call would ordinarily have been one of the most disconcerting things to happen to you in the last twenty-four hours, but considering you were still reeling from whatever body-swapping nonsense had just transpired, it ended up being kind of underwhelming.

“Karasu?” you said. There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you prayed they would not hang up.

“Y/N?” he said after a moment.

“Yes!” you said.

“So you’re in my body? I was wondering what might’ve happened to me…” he said, trailing off thoughtfully.

“What the hell is going on? Why am I you, and why are you me?” you said. “More importantly, how do we switch back?”

“How would I know? I’m just as lost as you are. By the way, um, why don’t you have my number saved?” he said.

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on?” you screeched. “There is a dick attached to me! I have a genuine, bona-fide dick right now, and more specifically, it’s your dick! How about we focus on that?”

“Sorry,” he said. “But also, I was trying not to think about that. This is already weird enough, why’d you have to make it worse?”

“I’m trying to impress upon you just how dire our situation is,” you said. “By the way, while we’re on the subject, don’t even think of looking down my shirt. I’ll kill you if you do.”

“I wouldn’t,” he protested.

“Uh-huh,” you said. “Whatever. What are we going to do now?”

“How did this even happen?” he said. “Maybe if we work backwards, we can figure out what we have to do to fix it. What were you up to last night?”

“I just did homework,” you said. “And then I slept. I had a really bad headache, so I didn’t do much.”

“Wait, I had one, too,” he said.

“That doesn’t really mean anything. It’s not like headaches are uncommon,” you said.

“It’s a start, okay? I’m trying here! Why can’t you be cooperative for once?” he said.

“Why can’t you be cooperative for once?” you muttered under your breath, finding that the mockingly high-pitched voice sounded much more derogatory in Karasu’s harsh tones than it ever had coming from you. “Fine. When’d your headache start?”

“While we were walking back from school,” he said. “To my house.”

“That’s about when it happened for me,” you said. “Now that you mention it, it was right after—”

“—right after we talked to that old lady,” he completed for you. “Two steps ahead of you.”

“No, you just cut me off. That doesn’t mean you were ahead of me,” you said. “It just means you’re rude.”

“Sure, sure, whatever,” he said. “Do you think this is that gift the old lady was talking about?”

“Hm,” you said. “You think she was serious about that?”

“It’s as good a guess as any. Back then, I figured she was full of bullshit, but what if she actually does have some kind of supernatural powers?” he said.

“Then this is all your fault!” you said.

“What?” he said.

“You heard me. Why’d you have to be such an asshole to her, huh? Like always. Jeez. You can’t help but be a jerk and fuck things up, can you?” you said. “Well, we’re going to be late for school if we don’t get a move on, so I guess the only option we have is getting through the day and then going to visit her after classes.”

“I don’t — do you really think so?” he said.

“Obviously? She’s the biggest suspect at the moment, but I’d really prefer if we didn’t miss school. What with board exams and all coming up…” you said.

“Never mind,” he said. “Anyways, why do you care? It’s not like you do anything but draw in class.”

“How’d you know that?” you said. “Are you some kind of stalker or something?”

“I’m not a stalker. I just…pay attention to people,” he said.

“Sure,” you said. “And you put little heart emoticons after everyone’s contact names, too. How’d you even get my number?”

“You saw that?” he said.

“How do you think I called you?” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “We were in a class group chat together in seventh grade.”

Now that he mentioned it, you did recall something along those lines, although of course, you had not saved his number in return. You hadn’t seen a need to — out of everyone in that class, you would’ve texted him for help last.

“Okay,” you said. “Bye.”

You hung up immediately, finding the entire discussion to be unproductive, and then you sighed. It seemed that, for now, you were stuck as Karasu; massaging your sore jaw, you gave up on procrastination and began to get dressed for the day.

Somehow, you were able to get through it with minimal embarrassment, and you even shaped his hair into the style he preferred, which you were particularly proud of, given how absurd it was. You could only hope he was showing your own body the same kindness you were reluctantly giving his.

“Good morning, Tabito,” his mother said absently when you strolled into the kitchen.

“Morning, Mrs. — Mom!” you said. “Mom. Good morning.”

It would be a little strange if Karasu began referring to his own mother as Mrs. Karasu. You had to keep in mind that to everyone else, you were no longer Y/N L/N, and if you didn’t want them all to treat you like you were insane, you had to play the part of Tabito Karasu in a convincing manner.

“Time for breakfast?” she said. You nodded.

“Do we have any cereal?” you said. She furrowed her brow at you.

“Cereal? You made us throw it all away because it was too sugary, remember? Your energy bars are in the pantry, though, and there’s apples in the fridge if you want,” she said.

Your eye twitched. A health freak, really? His body and soccer career were impressive, but did both really take so much maintenance that he restricted himself from even cereal?

“Thanks,” you said, rifling through the pantry, picking out a random bar and an apple to snack on as you walked to school. “See you later!”

“See you,” Mrs. Karasu said, not even looking up from the laptop she was working at. You frowned, used to your own mother, who always responded with as much energy as you gave her. Brushing it off as the relationship she and her son must’ve had, you bit into your apple and vowed not to think about it further.

The energy bar was absolutely disgusting; you weren’t sure how Karasu could stand to eat them on a daily basis. It was some German brand with an umlaut in the name, and it tasted like cardboard coated in glue. You were barely able to force it down your throat, but you knew a mere apple wouldn’t last you until lunch, so you had no other choice. Still, it put you in a foul mood and set the tone for the day, which, considering what tone had already been created by your migration into Karasu’s body, was not a good thing.

“Karasu! Hey, Karasu, wait up!” You had no idea what his name was, but as soon as you walked into the school building, a boy was shouting out after you, panting as he sprinted to catch up. From your vague knowledge, he was one of Karasu’s friends and soccer teammates, though not one he was particularly close with. “You deaf or something, man? I’ve been trying to get you to slow down for ages! What’s the rush?”

“Rush?” you said.

“Why’re you walking so fast? First period doesn’t start for another ten minutes,” he said.

“Sorry,” you said. There had been no intention behind your pace, actually. It was just that you were unused to the length of Karasu’s stride and so found yourself going along at a far greater clip than you meant to. “I didn’t realize.”

“Okay, Captain,” he said. “I get it. Some of us are just average guys, you know, so let’s keep it nice and easy, alright?”

“Yup,” you said. His friend squinted at you.

“You’re being oddly nice today,” he said. “I don’t like it one bit.”

“We’ve been speaking for all of two minutes, how can you tell that already?” you said. His friend cocked his head at you before elbowing you in the side. You blinked at him. He blinked back, and then he punched you in the arm. You barely even felt it, so you didn’t react, which only caused his friend to wail.

“See? What are you plotting? You only act this nice when you’re planning to be really mean later! What did I do to you? Is it because I went and studied with L/N’s friends? I’m sorry! Just hit me, please, and let’s get it over with!” he said.

“Why would I care if you studied with my — with L/N’s friends?” you said. “And I’m not hitting you, dude, calm down.”

“You’re always calling them mediocre,” he said. “Though I guess you call everyone mediocre, so that’s not really saying much.”

“Of course,” you said dully, unconvincingly. “Mediocre. That is what I think of them. Absolutely.”

His friend shrugged. “They’re not that bad, though, in all honesty. You shouldn’t be so hard on them just because you wish L/N was friends with you instead. She doesn’t even like you, bro. You should just give up.”

Your mind went blank at this. “I wish that who was what with who now?”

“Oh, are we back in the denial stage? My bad,” his friend said.

Karasu wanting to be friends with you? It was a laughable idea. He was the one who had left first. Your dislike was only a symptom of that, of the act which he had never explained nor apologized for, and he knew that as well as you did. He was popular, too, even more popular than you were — which was saying something — so what use would he have in befriending you? This boy was delusional. Or maybe there was another Y/N L/N at the school. You doubted it, but wasn’t it technically a possibility? At any rate, it was more plausible than Karasu harboring any kind of affection for you.

When you entered your first period classroom, you almost made the mistake of walking to your normal desk. In fact, you were about halfway there when you realized that your desk partner was giving you an odd look, her face souring with every step you took. For a moment, you considering asking her what was wrong, since the two of you usually got along well, but then you remembered — you were Karasu at the moment, and though you had never told her in your own body how much you detested him or why, she had picked up on it through the course of the semester.

Turning on your heel, you made a beeline for Karasu’s normal seat. His partner was unfamiliar to you, but you couldn’t recall Karasu ever talking much to him, so it probably didn’t matter much that you had no idea who he was.

“’Sup, Karasu,” his partner said.

“’Sup,” you said, omitting his name and hoping he didn’t find it strange. Thankfully, his partner only nodded at you before returning to his homework, which he was completing in the seconds before the bell, for some reason. You rifled through Karasu’s bag and pulled out his own paper, which was perfectly done, missing all of the adornments which often littered your assignments. You believed that this week, you had drawn a little cat playing with a ball of yarn next to your answers. You were sure it would delight your teacher immensely, at least based on her reactions to the previous doodles you had included, though you also had a sense Karasu would judge you when he saw.

The class passed by even slower than it usually did. If you started drawing to while away the time, you’d make your desk partner suspicious, so you had nothing to waste your energy with, bar watching the minute hand creeping along against the clock.

After all, Karasu was an attentive person, raising his hand in class to answer every question the teacher asked, the first to know how to solve a problem and the first to explain it upon prompting. It was another one of those things that made him so well-liked; despite his brusqueness, he really was willing to help people out if they needed it, in his own insolent way.

It was unnerving. When did you learn so much about Karasu? You thought you had been ignoring him quite successfully. You could hardly even tolerate him, so why were you so knowledgeable on the kind of person he was, his routines and friends and quirks? Was it an old habit that, even now, you could not quite put out of your mind? A remnant of that former friendship? You had not understood until you took on this new role how much of him you were still familiar with, how much of him was still the same as you had remembered.

At lunch, you headed over to the table where Karasu’s friend group was waiting, giving your own friends a mournful glance as you did so. Karasu was sitting in your normal spot, listening to your best friend as she ranted about something. There was a small frown on his — your? — face, as if she was saying something that he didn’t agree with but was too scared to speak up against.

“Bro, enough with the longing stares. This shit is embarrassing.” You were shocked out of your trance by someone socking you in the abdomen. Doubling over with a cough, you glared at Karasu’s best friend, wondering why every one of his relationships was so violent.

“What was that for?” you said, shoving your shoulder into him so that he would move over. He did so willingly, albeit not without a snicker as you set your lunch down beside him.

“Just saying,” he said. “Now that we know what your deal is, you can hardly expect us not to mention it.”

“My deal?” you said.

“Told you he’s back in the denial phase! As if we didn’t just have an hour long confessional video call last night,” Karasu’s teammate from earlier said.

“Huh?” you said. Karasu hadn’t mentioned anything about an ‘hour long confessional video call’ when you had been discussing what you had done the night before the body switch. Actually, he hadn’t mentioned anything at all. You had brought up your headache before he had gotten the chance, and then the two of you had jumped topics to the old lady, so he hadn’t needed to.

“You don’t remember?” his best friend said, clearing his throat and lowering his voice in what you were sure was meant to be an impression of Karasu’s. “I miss Y/N so much. Sooooooo much. Sosososososo much.”

He burst into laughter, high-fiving their teammate. You gave them an unimpressed look, which only made the duo laugh harder. The rest of the table seemed similarly amused, though they had the dignity to not giggle about it aloud.

“It wasn’t like that, exactly,” a different one of Karasu’s teammates said, taking pity on you. “But I definitely recall you going through a crisis about how you wished you could be friends with her again, and how you secretly miss her and whatnot.”

“You mentioned some freaky lady, too,” his best friend said. “That’s what prompted you to spill your guts to us, wasn’t it? She started going on about how she knew your past, and then L/N said she didn’t like you and didn’t want to spend even a minute more with you, which made you so depressed that you yelled at the old lady and L/N.”

“Um, I don’t think I yelled at Y/N — L/N,” you said. As far as you could recall, he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary to you, though perhaps it was just that you were used to him being caustic and had brushed it off.

“What’s with you?” his best friend said. “Just yesterday, you were throwing a fit about how you’d never be able to fix things with her, and now you’re all nonchalant about it? You need to see a doctor.”

“Why would I even want to fix things with her?” you said. “We’ve not liked one another for a while.”

His friends all exchanged looks before his best friend, apparently the designated spokesperson, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Are you feeling alright?” he said.

You could not answer this truthfully. Of course, you were, at the moment, feeling the furthest thing from alright, but how could you say that to them? Oh, actually, I feel shitty, mostly because I’m currently stuck in someone else’s body. Wait, did I forget to mention that? Well, surprise, I’m Y/N L/N! Not Tabito Karasu. By the way, am I supposed to aim when I take a piss, or is this like a freestyle thing? They would have you hauled off before you could say ‘creepy old bat with possible witch powers.’

“I’m fine,” you said.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Did you, uh, get into your dad’s liquor cabinet last night by any chance?”

“Not that I know of,” you said, which was as sincere as you could get. Whether Karasu was an underage drinker or not was none of your business, but for what it was worth, you didn’t think that you were hungover at the moment, so either he complied with the law and stayed sober, or he handled his alcohol better than he probably ought to at this age.

“Right, then,” he said. “Just let us know if anything changes and you need to skip practice or something.”

Practice? There was no way you could go to practice. Even if you were piloting Karasu’s well-conditioned body, you had nothing resembling his soccer know-how or field awareness. You’d fail miserably if you had to attend, and what then? He’d get kicked off of the team and be denounced as a fraud, maybe, and it’d be your fault. It was a worst-case scenario, but it was still a scenario, and one you didn’t want to consider further.

“You know, I do feel a bit queasy. Maybe you guys are right,” you said. “I think I’m off today.”

“For you to be admitting that aloud means the problem is worse than we realized,” one of his friends said.

“We’ll let the coach know you had to go home sick,” his best friend assured you. “Don’t worry about it. You haven’t missed a practice yet, so he won’t be mad.”

“That’s right! Rest up, Captain. We need you at your best for our game this weekend,” another teammate said.

They were kind of sweet when they weren’t pummeling one another, you thought. It wasn’t in the warm, affectionate, supportive way of your friends, but they showed their caring in whatever manner they could. You didn’t prefer it, but you could see how someone would.

It wouldn’t have seemed like a role reversal to anyone else, but you alone recognized it for what it was. Waiting in the spot that Karasu had been yesterday, you made designs in the dirt with the toe of your left sneaker, periodically glancing at his phone for the time.

“You waited for me!” he said.

“Ahh!” you said, jumping backwards, your back smacking against the wall. Being this close to your body, hearing your voice and knowing it wasn’t coming from you, was perturbing, and you narrowed your eyes, leaning forward and inspecting it. “Hey. Looks like you didn’t fuck things up too terribly. My hair is its original color, and I’m not breaking out anywhere, so it’s a success story in the end.”

“What about you? D’you go around doing dumb bullshit to make me seem like an awful person?” he said. Though it sounded like you, the words were so utterly Karasu that it was obvious he was the one speaking.

“Why would I do that?” you said.

“Dunno,” he said. “Apparently you hate me more than I realized.”

“And that came as a surprise?” you said.

“Kind of,” he said as you began walking towards the part of town where you had met the old lady. “I thought you were just indifferent to me. Didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Do you even know why?” you said. “Or do you just think I’m mediocre and unreasonable and annoying?”

He looked at the ground instead of at you. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You went and you made your new friends and that was that.”

“Wait, what?” he said in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? What are you talking about? I’m referring to why I don’t like you, of course,” you said.

“Isn’t it because I’m not good enough?” he said. Before you could stop yourself, you were scoffing at him. His shoulders slumped.

“Are you fishing for compliments? Save it, jerk. You haven’t changed a bit,” you said.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “That’s the reason, right? You’re Y/N L/N. You draw all over your homework and are still the teacher’s favorite, you’re good at school without even trying, and you only talk to people you approve of.”

“What about you?” you snapped. “You think I’m perfect? You’re the captain of your fancy-ass soccer team, everyone at school loves you, you’re smart and talented and good-looking, and you know it! You walk around like you think you’re better than everyone — like you think you’re better than me! You told your entire group how you wished you could be friends with me, right? We were friends! Until you decided that, for some reason, we couldn’t be.”

“I didn’t decide that,” he said. “You stopped talking to me.”

“What did you expect, that I’d just keep hanging around someone so horrible?” you said. “You completely ignored me once we started school. I tried to talk to you, to acknowledge you, but you just acted like you had no idea who I was. Why would I ever, ever be friends with someone like that?”

“That’s why?” he said. “You’re mad about how I acted when I was six? That’s a little immature, don’t you think? We’re obviously not in grade school anymore. I mean, it’s a little unwarranted for you to be holding a grudge for this long.”

“You were my only friend back then,” you said. “You were my only friend, and you left me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you. You were a pain as a child and you’re a pain now.”

“A pain?” he said. “You wanna talk about being a pain? You decided you didn’t like someone when you were a kid, and you’ve refused to change your mind about them in the years since. It’s not like I haven’t tried! Do you think your mother was incapable of driving over and grabbing her purse? Do you think mine suddenly forgets the route to your house every time she leaves something there? I want to see you. I make up excuses to be with you, but you’re so damn hostile that it doesn’t matter! What am I supposed to say? Hey, Y/N, I really like you. I think you’re cool. I wish that things were as effortless for me as they are for you. And that side-eye of yours? Totally appealing.”

“Because appealing to you is my life goal,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t think appealing to anyone is in your playbook,” he said. “You just do what you want, and it works out somehow.”

“As opposed to you?” you said. “Whether it’s an innate skill or an earned talent, at least I don’t have a stick up my ass about it. I would ask you if it’s uncomfortable, but considering I’m in your body right now, I can answer that it’s not, really, which is impressive, considering how big it must be. Got some preferences you want to share?”

“Seriously?” he said. “You’re pulling out that kind of joke now?”

“Just trying to method act,” you said. “Since I’m you and all. It’s your modus operandi, isn’t it? You can’t help but criticize people, even when they’ve done nothing wrong. Even when you’re the one who's done something wrong. You’d rather blame me than apologize, but despite what you say, it doesn’t matter how long ago it happened. It hurt my feelings. The fact that you don’t recognize that is all the proof I need that you’re just as self-centered now as you were back then. Forget about trying to be friends with me. You’re right: I only talk to people I approve of, and you’re not one of them. The second we’re back in our original bodies, I want you to leave me the hell alone.”

Karasu’s body’s superior athleticism allowed you to put enough distance between you two that you could clear your mind. This was the first time that either of you had had anything resembling a proper conversation since you were kids, and it had not exactly gone the way you had wanted it to.

What had you wanted? You weren’t sure. Maybe for him to apologize. Grovel and tell you that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant any of it, that he had an explanation for why he had treated you like a stranger instead of a friend, some magical clarification that would make everything better again.

Somehow, he caught up to you. You must’ve slowed down as you were thinking, the speed of your mind and the length of your stride not quite correlating. He was huffing, though, which did bring you some measure of gratification — which vanished when you remembered that it was your body which was struggling in comparison to his and not the other way around.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really, I am. I didn’t want to hurt you. I know that I did, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t my intention. It just happened, and then before I knew it, it was too late for me to stop things from blowing up. And once they did, I avoided the mess I had made as best as I could, because I was too afraid of facing your distaste to do anything to remediate it. I thought it would be worse if I brought it up and you still kept avoiding me than if I never made an attempt at all.”

“Why’d you even do it in the first place?” you said.

“You want an explanation?” he said. You nodded. He shrugged. “I’m sorry. There really isn’t one. Sometimes it’s just like that. I was dumb, and when the other boys in class told me it was lame to be friends with girls, I believed them. I know it’s not right, but that’s really all there was to it.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Expecting fairness from a six year old is a little much, don’t you think?” he said, not unkindly. “I should’ve apologized earlier, I would’ve, but I didn’t realize that that was the reason you spurned me at all. I thought it was because, well, I mean…you’re so you. You’re amazing, and now that I’ve lived your life, that fact is only all the more evident to me. You’re so wonderful, Y/N, and I’m just the mediocre Tabito Karasu. It was only natural that you left me behind. I’ve spent this entire time trying to become someone you’d look at again, but no matter how much effort I put forth, it was never enough. You never did.”

You both had wanted the same thing. For all those many years you had run from one another, you and he had only ever wanted to be with each other. But you had thought Karasu had abandoned you, and he had thought you were too good for him, and so you both had denied yourselves that very thing, which had always been within your grasp, if only one of you had made a genuine effort to reach out and take it.

Stopping, you turned to face him. Squeezing your eyes shut — it was a little awkward, after all, gazing into your own eyes when you were being so vulnerable — you extended your pinky finger out to him, waiting for him to interlock his with yours, like you had when you were children.

“Let’s be together again,” you said, the moment he did so. “For good this time.”

“For good,” he agreed. A cold, slimy sensation slithered down your back, and you opened your eyes with a shiver, only to find yourself looking up at Karasu’s face, his actual face, not the one he had borrowed from you. His lashes fluttered open, and when he noticed you standing in front of him, back in possession of your own body, his eyebrows drew together in confusion before his expression cleared with understanding.

Not even bothering to detangle your pinkies, he interlaced the rest of his fingers with yours. Then, for the first time in years, he gave you one of his sweet, genuine, lopsided grins.

“What the hell? I could’ve sworn this was where she was!” Karasu said, pointing at the storefront where you had encountered the old lady. Somehow, miraculously, it had vanished, replaced with a bustling restaurant that seemed to have been there forever.

“How’d they set up a new restaurant in the span of a day?” you wondered. “That wasn’t there before, I’m sure of it.”

“I was going to give that woman a piece of my mind,” he whined.

“Watch your mouth, baby crow,” you said. “Who knows? Next time you yell at her, she might turn you into one.”

“Would you kiss me and turn me back into a prince if she did?” he said, puckering his lips at you.

“Prince, my ass. You’re still on thin ice, so don’t push it,” you said.

“Alright,” he said amenably. “You know what? Maybe it’s for the best that she’s gone. I think she’s one of those people that you’re only meant to meet once in your life.”

“Very wise,” you said. “The time you spent in my body must’ve had a positive effect on your mentality.”

“Ha, ha,” he said. “Hilarious. C’mon, you have to hang out with me today. You’re the reason I’m missing practice, so entertain me.”

“I guess I don’t have that much homework to do, so I don’t mind,” you said. “Okay. Your place or mine?”

“You pick,” he said. “Though we are over halfway to my house already. And my cat does miss you. Just saying.”

“Convincing argument,” you said. “Lead the way.”

As the two of you turned in the direction of Karasu’s house, your conversation flowing as easily as if you had never not been friends in the first place, the owner of the restaurant ducked out to flip the sign from open to closed.

“Oh, are you shutting down for the day already?” a young man said, frowning at her. The old lady only smiled at him mysteriously.

“Once my work’s done, it’s done,” she said. “Why would I stay open longer than that?”

The man gave her an odd look before wandering off, perhaps aware that arguing with the eccentric old lady would be more trouble than it was worth. The old lady paid him no heed, folding up a stray menu and holding it to her heart as she watched you and Karasu disappear into the distance, chuckling self-indulgently all the while.

Welcome to Freaky Friday! Ask your server about our special — critics call it life changing!

[racinggirl]

promise

Lando Norris Fic - requested

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a/n: Oh my godness I'm back y'all! It's been so long! It's the first request of hopefully many to come. So far my inbox is empty again, so don't hold back to send in some requests, one, or more. You can even send some anonymously! I hope you will like this story, and keep reading to find some little extra's I added, because I loved making AU's as well. Let me know your thoughts, tips, tops, anything really. It keeps me motivated to write more, so any form of feedback is very welcomed! Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy this fic 🧡

‘’Promise.’’ You linked your pinkie finger with the 5-year-old curly haired boy, giggling as the both of you were running around the playground, hiding from his mother.

‘’Come on, I’m nearly 25 already! I can easily go on vacation on my own!’’ You had always wanted to go on a road trip, preferably with a partner on your side, but that hadn’t been the case yet. So, you decided to go alone, because why not? You were old enough to look out for yourself, even though your parents weren’t too keen on the idea of their daughter traveling around Europe on her own.

‘’The world has changed, Y/N, it’s not safe to go on your own.’’

‘’But-…’’

‘’No, you’re not going on your own, end of story.’’

You groaned at your parents’ reaction and went to your room, frustrated, upset, but somehow you got their point. They weren’t wrong, the world had changed, and wasn’t that innocent anymore. Wherever you were watching the news, reports about murder, drunken drivers, kidnappers, it was all out there.

‘There’re more crazy people out in the world than there are behind bars’ was something your father would say, and he wasn’t wrong.

However, you wished you would have been able to do what that curly haired boy did. Sometimes you were jealous of him, jealous of how he travelled all around the world, going from one country to another, flying from Finland to Australia to Bali and back to his new home, Monaco.

Him and you met when you were karting in Bristol, the both of you loving the sport more than ever. However, karting wasn’t a girl’s sport, at least not to the world at that age. That’s why you moved on from it, where he pursued his dream career, you were only there to cheer from the side lines.

You hated learning, studying, it’s something you never were good at, or at least, not in school. Whenever you saw the data on the karting track, you’d spent hours trying to understand every piece of data that was coming through.

You begged your parents to let you go to engineering school, university. They didn’t want you to, it wasn’t a ‘girl’s thing’ to do, but after you refused to do anything else, they eventually agreed on letting you go to engineering school.

4 years later, and you had your engineering degree. You couldn’t be happier, because right now it meant you might do something you’d actually enjoy. Even if it wasn’t a ‘girl’s thing’ to do, you loved it.

‘’Hey’’ you smiled as you brought the phone close to your ear, lying in bed as you checked the time.

‘’Hey, did you see?’’

‘’Oh yeah, I did.’’ You laughed, looking up at the ceiling. ‘’You were flying! Pole position baby!’’ You giggled, smiling even harder when you heard him on the other side, repeating the final three words of your sentence.

‘’You still have to come for a race someday, you know?’’ His deep voice was ringing through your ears, and it immediately made your chest feel warm, it always did, he always did.

‘’Mhm.. I know, and I will, when my parents finally let me.’’ You sighed, playing with the ropes of your hoodie.

‘’You’re almost 25, when will they ever let you do your own things?’’

‘’I don’t know,’’ you sighed heavily, ‘’when I’m 40?’’

The sound of his laugh made you sit up straight, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink as you heard his laughter.

‘’Nah, I’ll have you kidnapped by then.’’ He smiled, causing you to giggle next. ‘’They’ll destroy you when you do that.’’

‘’Good thing I have my bodyguards, then.’’ And that made your heart feel a thousand times warmer. He was never one to brag about his success, never. He always was very modest, very gentle, and never liked it whenever people talked about the amount of money he had, or how famous he was. That’s why you clicked so good. You knew each other from when you were 3 years old, and he knew you liked him as a friend, and not because he was a driver.

‘’I asked them if I could go on a road trip, alone.’’ You quietly said, hearing how he fumbled around on the other side of the line. A soft ‘hold on, I’m busy’ made you smile, knowing he told whoever was there to wait, because he was talking to you.

‘’And let me guess, they wouldn’t let you go alone because the world is dangerous.’’

‘’Yep, exactly.’’ You sighed but sat up straight when you heard him gasp.

‘’Lando, what did you do?’’

‘’Nothing.’’

‘’What are you thinking?’’

Silence…

‘’Lando?’’

‘’Come with me.’’ You could hear his grin through the phone, and he could hear your brains working overtime because he immediately started to explain himself. ‘’You won’t be alone, you’ll be with me, my team, my crew.’’ He said. ‘’You can travel the world with me, I might even be able to work around some things here to have you here for some sort of internship, so you won’t have any expenses, and you’ll be able to come to the races with me. Your parents know me, I’m not a stranger.’’

You wanted to say yes, you wanted to give in because honestly, it was a great idea.

‘’But, and these aren’t my worlds, but you’re famous, Lando, and you-…’’

‘’I’m still the same Lando from 20 years ago.’’

‘’I know, I know that, but my parents don’t, you know how they are…’’

You hated the fact you just basically told him you couldn’t go with him because he was famous, and you hated that word as much as he did. Your parents were always so fond of him, they loved him, but they also always made sure to tell you that he had a lot of money, was very well known around the world and that most famous people weren’t the same people they were before they had the money. They’d say that the fame got to their heads, but it wasn’t the same with Lando. He had always been that giggly, funny, sweet, and caring boy, but simply because he wasn’t around during Christmas dinners, or the traditional ‘start of spring’ picnic, they assumed he felt too good for those kinds of things. You explained to them that he was just busy, that because of his job, the start of spring was in the middle of the start of the season, and that he simply couldn’t make it. But they were your parents, stubborn as always.

‘’Y/N?’’

‘’Hmm, sorry, what?’’ You said, hearing him chuckle on the other side of the phone.

‘’Let me talk to them, okay? Let me try to convince them, because honestly, you wouldn’t be the only one to benefit from that decision.’’ He whispered, causing your cheeks to heat up again.

‘’Okay.’’

‘’Lando?’’ Your parents were surprised to see him at your front step. He promised you he’d come to talk to your parents, and he always keeps his promises.

‘’Y/F/N, Y/M/N, it’s been a while, it’s good to see you again.’’ He was always very polite. Calling your parents by their first name was something you always did; you did the same with Adam and Cisca.

It was a good conversation, you occasionally tried to mix yourself into it. A reassuring smile from the curly haired boy made you confident enough to speak up to your parents, and this time, with success, because only a few weeks after your conversation you were packing your clothes.

One year. For one year you’d join Lando with his journey around the world. You had no idea how he did it, and especially this fast, but he had managed to give you an internship position at McLaren, meaning you could come along to the races, the dream scenario for every Lando-girl out there.

‘’You’re the best, you know?’’ You laughed, placing your phone on the bed as you zipped up your suitcases. Instead of living here in London with your parents for a year, you and him both decided it would be the best if you would live in his apartment near Woking. It was still close to home, and to the factory.

He was the best one could imagine, and you knew he was, because he was always there, and he always kept his promises.

You put your phone away and collected the things you had to before ordering a taxi to head straight to the airport. You had been living in his apartment for almost 2 weeks now, and things were good, they were great. He occasionally came to Woking for work, but also to spend time with you. You were best friends ever since, and nothing could ever change that.

The moment you arrived on the airport you felt it again. Those feelings you have been trying to ignore the moment they appeared again, the moment your brain wandered off and thought of him. He always made you feel that way, but you ignored it, always. It might sound cliché, and you hated thinking about it because in every romance book it got romanticized. Having feelings for your best friend never worked out great, except in those books.

But reality is, you’re not living in a book, you’re living in the real world, and it was dangerous. Feelings weren’t mutual all the time, and you didn’t want to find out if it was the case this time because you didn’t want to get your heart broken, so being friends made you be close, feel good without the heartbreak ending it.

It went quick, you got in the jet and 1 hour and a few minutes later you were already back on the ground. He was right, it was faster. Of course he was right, he always was, and that made you fall for him even more, how silly it may sound.

He had texted you, saying he was waiting in his car because of the fans wandering at the airport. Someone spotted his car on the way here, and the FBI agents they are, they immediately put one and one together. He was picking up someone, or his girlfriend, something most fans would say.

‘’Hey.’’ You smiled as you embraced him in a tight hug, he smelled good, he always did. A mix of Dior Sauvage and his own scent made you inhale his scent deeply. It felt like home. You explained him that mixing 3 very expensive perfumes wasn’t making him smell 3 times better, he used to mix most of his perfumes until you made that comment. He asked which one you liked the most, and ever since you mentioned Sauvage all he wore was that. But you never noticed the reason was because you mentioned it, you always thought he simply liked that fragrance the most.

‘’Hey, how was the flight?’’ He opened your car door after helping you put the suitcase in his trunk, the real gentleman he was, and hopped in the driver’s seat.

‘’Amazing, the most relaxing flight I’ve ever had.’’ You sighed, putting on your seatbelt before looking over at him, how he started the car and drove out of the parking garage.

You talked more, about the flight, about how things were at the apartment, his apartment here in Monaco, you even talked about your plans these next upcoming days.

‘’We’ll go to London tomorrow.’’ He whispered. The both of you were laying on his couch in his apartment here in Monaco. Instead of watching TV, you had moved the couch so you both could see the harbour, and the sun setting in the ocean.

The couple of weeks you had been here were the best you ever experienced. You did many things, from shopping to karting in Italy, a day at the beach in France, simracing and even streaming. You made chat very clear you were best friends and nothing more, but when people in chat started to ask about his feelings, and about yours, he told you, quietly, to not answer and ignore them, whatever that might have meant.

‘’Really?’’ Your smile grew wider when he mentioned that. It would be your birthday in 2 days, and you always spent your birthday at home, with your family and friends. Last year he couldn’t make it, as the season started the day your birthday was, but this year he made his way around it. Your birthday was on Tuesday, so Wednesday you’d both fly with his jet to Bahrein for the first race of the year.

‘’Mhm, I wouldn’t want to break your birthday tradition.’’ He smiled, his lips placing a tender kiss on your temple. You were lying when you said your feelings towards him hadn’t grown these couple of weeks with him in Monaco. Everything he did gave you tinglings in your stomach and you couldn’t help ignoring them anymore. You surrendered to the fact you had a crush on him, you liked your best friend, and it was the best feeling ever.

‘’Happy Birthday!’’ Your parents were waiting in the living room when you entered the house. They decorated the entire room with balloons, garlands, and pictures from your first till your 24th birthday.

‘’Smile!’’ They held the camera out in front of you, and you immediately felt an arm wrapped around your shoulder. This caused your smile to grow even wider.

‘’Happy Birthday, beautiful.’’ He whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple as his scent immediately went through your nose.

‘’Thank you…’’ You whispered, looking into his bright eyes and immediately looking down after, trying to hide the fact you were blushing because of his actions.

Later that evening, after you spent time with your family and friends, you and Lando went back to his apartment. You got many gifts, and you couldn’t be happier about this day.

‘’How was your day?’’ You felt the vibrations of his deep voice going through your entire body, leaning against him as you were seated on the couch of his apartment.

‘’Amazing.’’ You smiled. ‘’Couldn’t be better.’’

‘’Oh, but I think it can.’’ He reached for something in his bag, and once he got the box, he handed it to you. ‘’Happy Birthday, beautiful.’’ He whispered again, watching how you opened the box slowly.

You pulled the black coloured leash that was hanging from the side of the box and gently placed it on the table in front of you. You lifted the lid and grabbed the small bag inside of the box.

‘’Lando.’’ You gasped, touching the velvet bag and opening it slowly. Tears were burning in your eyes at this point, because you realised he made all this effort to get the perfect gift for you. And he succeeded because it was more than perfect.

‘’This is way too crazy.’’ You whispered, feeling how he moved your hair to the side, helping you clipping the silver Swarovski necklace around your neck.

‘’Look inside.’’ He said, tucking some hair away from your face with his fingers, causing your nervousness to grow even more.

You opened the necklace and smiled when you saw the picture inside. It immediately gave you flashbacks, because even though you were only 4 and 5 years old, it was the brightest memory you had from the two of you.

FLASHBACK

‘’Dating is stupid! Kissing is stupid!’’ You laughed when you were seated on the swing, holding tightly when Lando pushed you carefully.

‘’I know! My mommy and daddy kiss when daddy comes home from work and it’s so weird!’’ He laughed, making sure you wouldn’t fall from the swing.

‘’Lando! Y/N! Come on, it’s time to go home!’’ You heard Cisca calling for the both of you, and you jumped off the swing immediately.

‘’Come on, run!’’ He held your hand and while the both of you laughed, you ran to the playground, hiding from Lando’s mom. ‘’Shhh..’’

You stayed there for almost 5 minutes, which seemed like an eternity when you’re just 4 years old. ‘’I have an idea.’’ The curly haired boy smiled and held your hand tightly.

‘’Okay, tell me!’’ You giggled.

‘’When we’re both 25 and we’re still single, I’ll ask you to marry me.’’ He smiled, causing you to giggle and laugh, him doing the same. ‘’Okay!’’

‘’Lando! Y/N, come on we have to go, it’s getting dark!’’ You ran away again, running around the playground as you linked your pinkie finger with him. ‘’Promise’’.

END OF FLASHBACK

After he clipped the necklace around your neck, he took a hold of your hand and grabbed the second box in his bag. He kneeled in front of you, a smile on his lips as he opened the box with one hand.

‘’Marry me.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not now, don’t worry. But one day. You know I am a man of my word, and I still remember that day so well.’’ He smiled, looking at your necklace and then back into your eyes. He always maintained eye contact with you, and it made you feel safe and secure, because you know you can trust those eyes.

‘’I’ve been counting the days till your birthday, knowing that the day you turned 25, I was able to ask this question. I’m lying when I say I was hoping you wouldn’t find someone to be by your side, because, and maybe I’m being selfish, but I want to be that man. It’s too fast to immediately ask you to marry me, because I can’t force you to say yes, but God… Y/N. See this as a promise ring. See this as a promise ring that we’ll be together, that I’ll be the man in your life that makes you the happiest you’ll ever be.’’

Tears were streaming down your face as you listened to every word he said. Every word chosen so carefully yet so chaotically, because this is the moment you knew you weren’t the only one feeling this intense love for him. He felt it for you, too.

You answered him by cupping his cheeks with your hands and doing the one thing you have been dreaming of doing for almost 22 years. You kissed him, his lips moving on yours almost instantly caused you to smile against his lips, him following your movements. This kiss was something else, something that made all the butterflies in your stomach explode with fireworks, like they were all holding a fairy light and lighting them all at the same time.

‘’I love you, Lando, I always have, and I’m so glad I can finally say it out loud now.’’ You giggled, feeling his hand reaching for yours and the ring slipped around your finger so effortlessly.

‘’I love you too, and I promise I’ll get you a proper engagement ring.’’ He whispered before pressing his lips on yours again, firmly, full of love.

2 years later

[newtonsheffield]

Girl dad Anthony is my favorite Anthony. No shade to Edmund and Miles at all and I know he loves them all equally but when he called hyacinth down fir a dance and did that like smirk to the crowd and stood all proper I died in the best way he cant WAIT for mini Kate biologically his or not

I think in the original posts Charlotte’s bio dad was a guy Kate had been seeing casually who didn’t want to be a Dad but I really think this Kate just wanted to be a Mum and she didn’t want to keep waiting for the right person.

Anthony is Charlotte’s Dad. Thank you to the sperm donor, he’s got it from here. He was there at all of the appointments, he went to birthing classes; if that’s not a Dad what is it?

And when Charlotte grows up she knows that Anthony isn’t biologically her father but she absolutely doesn’t give a fuck. He’s been there her whole life, it’s his name on her birth certificate. If a Dad isn’t someone who held you when you fell over in the playground and hurt yourself what the hell is it? They belong together. Anthony, Kate and little Charlotte.

Anthony’s be ready to throw hands with anyone that says he’s not her father. He wouldn’t even feel bad about it.

[cameronspecial]

Ghost Of A Memory

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Loss of a Spouse During Childbirth and Grief

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: All Rafe wants are memories of his family, but sometimes he has to remind himself that he can't have that.

Masterlist

The warm summer sun glows across Rafe’s pale skin, kissing it so that it will soon tan his skin a darker shade. Laughter fills the air and a sappy smile falls on Rafe’s face as his eyes fall on the sight of his wife and daughter on the playground. Hannah is climbing the ladder on a mission to go down the slide again; Y/N is waiting for her baby girl at the bottom of the slide to catch her. Hannah plops her butt onto the plastic contraption and squeals in delight as she zooms toward her mother. He finishes laying out the sandwiches on the plates and calls out to his girls, “Lunch is ready.” Y/N keeps her daughter in her arms, taking them both to the picnic blanket, where their lunch is laid out on it. “Salami, tomato, arugula and garlic cream cheese for me. Cheese and lettuce for Little Lady. And turkey, lettuce, tomato, and Havarti for my love,” Rafe announces, pointing to everyone’s meal as he lists the ingredients. Y/N leans forward to kiss his cheek, “Thank you for getting this all ready, Handsome.” Rafe’s cheeks warm like they always do at the nickname. It’s such a basic nickname, but coming from her, it makes him feel like he can do a thousand backflips one after the other. Hannah throws herself into her dad’s arms with her own thank you directed towards him.

The family finishes their food and Hannah is invited to play ball with a boy around her age. Y/N rests her head on Rafe’s shoulder as they both watch their daughter play with her new friend. “I think we should have another one,” she whispers to him. He beams at the idea and presses his lips to her temple, “I think I would love to have another one. Maybe a little boy with your hair and my eyes this time.”  “Hmm, that sounds like a great idea,” she agrees. Hannah lets out a scream in delight, except the longer it goes on, the more it starts to sound like a cry.

———

Rafe wakes up with a jerk into a sitting position. He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands as he looks around the dark room. Hannah stands in her crib in the corner of the room, rattling against the bars with her cries. Her father swings his feet over the side of the bed and pads over to her. She reaches her arms up toward him and he picks her up. He brings her to his chest, letting her nuzzle his neck. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, Little Lady,” he soothes. He bounces in hopes of providing her with some sort of comfort. He is so tired, yet he can’t go back to sleep because it seems as though Hannah doesn’t want to sleep. He presses his lips against her forehead, “Please, Little Lady, go back to sleep. Daddy is tired.” He tries to see if she is hungry and quickly learns that she isn’t. “What can I give you so you can go to sleep?” he begs, picking up her stuffed penguin. The penguin is rejected, so he tries offering her blankie. Hannah screeches and throws it on the ground in dissatisfaction. His eyes dart around the room in search of anything that will appease the bebe. Finally, he spots what he thinks is going to cease the crying.

He picks up the fading navy zip-up sweater and wraps it around his daughter's shoulders. The nine-month-old immediately calms, snuggling into the fabric of the hoodie. Rafe sighs, “I know. I miss her too.” He sits in the rocking chair opposite the crib. He looks at the empty spot on the bed beside his, drawing in the figure that should be there for himself. The woman creating a dip in the bed sits up and gives him a lazy smile. “Did she wake up? I don’t know how I slept through her cries. Is she hungry?” Y/N mumbles, standing from the bed. Her footsteps drag against the floor to stand in front of them. He grins up at her, “It’s okay. I figured out what she wanted. It was your Chapel Hill sweater.” He lifts Hannah up a bit so Y/N can see the school logo on the back. “That makes sense,” she agrees. “She’s always been a Mama’s girl.” Rafe chuckles, “So true. I can’t blame her though. She has a pretty amazing mom.” Y/N leans over to kiss her family members and he closes his eyes to embrace the feeling, but just as her skin is supposed to make contact with his, the daydream he is creating for himself dissolves. Instead of the feeling of her lips, he gets a kiss from the wind and he opens his eyes with furrowed eyebrows.

The room is void of any other human being, except for Hannah in his arms. He looks over to the other side of his bed and finds it empty. Likes it has been for the last nine months. The room lacks air and Rafe begins to hyper-ventilate. His immediate thought is to get up to look for the missing link in the room. And then he finally remembers that his dreams can only ever be the ghost of a memory he never gets to make because the love of his life never made it out of the hospital with their baby girl. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[stubz]

Darn spider monkey

"Tag! Your it!"

"...can we play something else?" huffs Tuk, her tail swishing back and forth in boredom.

"You don't like tag?" asks Marl scurrying back to their large blue friend.

"I do but we always play it! How about a new game?" The na'vi smiles as she sets her little friend on her shoulder.

"Hmmm...I can't think of anything."

"...neither can I."

"Put your foot in for grounders!" shouts one of their teachers in a nearby clearing.

"...grounders?"

"Grounders."

.

"So for those who don't know what grounders is, like Tuk and Marl, it's basically tag but the person who is it closes their eyes when on the...well not on the ground since we don't have a playground here." Explains Max.

"If the person who is it isn't on the ground and shouts grounders then whoever is on the ground is it. Now, if you're climbing high you can keep your eyes open until in a safe spot. But if your peeking to cheat then you have to go back onto the ground, that's called broken dishes."

"Why is called broken dishes?"

"...I have no idea. Anywho! If your tagged but really don't wanna be it then me or Kim will be it instead. Right Kim?"

"I prefer to be the hunter rather then the hunted."

"Got it? Okay! Game starts in 5...4..."

The younglings scattered. Some went straight for higher ground so as to have the advantage of sight while others focused on putting as much distance between them and the human male. Tuk and Marl obviously went for the high ground.

Being as it they were on her home planet, Tuk had a clear advantage in growing up in these very forests, she knew all the best ways to climb and scale these massive trees. Marl while being very small was still a ursa, creatures that typically spend the first 3 years of their life in the treetops. The two friends easily made it up 15 feet of the ground in two bounding leaps.

"This'll be so easy."

"Right? We just have to stay up here and we'll never be caught!"

..

"...this is kinda boring now." huffs Tuk. For 10 minutes they've stayed in the same spot watching their teachers chase the other younglings.

they haven't been ignored but were too far off the ground to be reached. The trunk was too smooth and the branches were too high for the humans. After multiple attempts by Max he gave up and focused on the other younglings.

"I find it entertaining! Go Pollix! GO! He's right behind you!" Marl cheered as the tighalax weaved through trees trying to lose the human. With a burst of speed he dropped down onto all fours and ran under a tunnel of roots.

"Yeah! Too bad mister Max!" the human ran even faster but this time to the right, away from the root tunnel. Tuk raised her brow as she watched him run up to a nearby tree and quickly begin climbing up.

"...Pollix get out of there! He's gonna-!"

"GROUNDERS! Got ya Pollix!"

"Darn it!" growled the cub from tunnel.

"Okay I guess it is entertaining." Tuk smiled.

...

By the 20 minute mark more than half the younglings were tired and sitting in the shade with Max. Tuk and Marl still in their spot. Kim and a few others on the ground running around.

"...wanna change spots?"

"Sure, how about that sunny spot over there?"

"Looks good."

"...wait. They're planning something."

"Who?"

"Kim and Piper." Marl pointed and true enough the adult was whispering something to the child while occasionally glancing towards them...while leaving just the smallest bit of space between them. When the girl smiled and nodded Kim grinned as well and together sprinted towards the tree they were on.

But rather than try and climb it as they had thought they would do, Kim turned and squatted against the tree.

Knee, shoulder, then waiting for Kim to stand, and finally using the adults palms as the final step Piper jumped and grabbed the lowest vine.

Piper was now it.

Piper was now scaling the tree like a prolemuris. The human youngling turned and swung her body in ways that the older humans couldn't and thus helped her go higher and higher.

"...We should start climbing."

"Way ahead of you!"

....

Together the humans managed to tag Tuk as she was a larger target than Marl.

With Kim's help Piper could reach the lowest vine or branch and from there she was set. granted she was not as fast as them but she had knocked down vines for others to climb so as to tag Tuk and Marl, the only two haven't been it yet!

A tragedy that must be corrected!!

The trees were no longer safe for the na'vi or ursa nor were the ground as that was the adult's domain.

While Tuk was bigger than the adult and therefore could outpace her she hadn't realized how committed human adults are to games. Even if it was children's game.

Deliberately Kim would go after Marl, the slower of the two, and make a show of almost catching them. Tuk, not wanting her friend to be it would always try to reach Marl first and carry them away. An abrupt stop would be Tuk's only warning before the human turned towards her and lunged.

If that didn't work then she would use the smallest youngling's affections to her advantage. Thrice she had ordered Anwred and Tarlak to hug her legs thus slowing her down.

"...I'm done..."

"Me too..."

"You guys did good, miss Kim hardly ever uses Piper in grounders." smiles Pollix.

"How does she do that? I mean, Spider, my human friend, can do that too but he grew up doing that. So how does Piper do it?"

"Apparently she has other teachers that taught her how to that and is just one of those humans whose better at climbing than others."

"Yeah! She used to climb miss Kim and mister Max all the time! Right onto their shoulders!" chirped Xw.

"She's a little spider monkey alright." said Kim walking over with said spider monkey clinging onto her back smiling rather proudly.

"...darn spider monkey." muttered Marl while Tuk laughed.

[sturn-saturn]

don't worry, darling

pairing: fempregnant!reader x chris

synopsis: y/n is afraid of raising a baby girl

warnings: tears, angst??, fluff, small mention of blood

a/n: wrote this real quick, hope you like it!!

you both met when you were 7 years old. you tripped trying to chase your ball which caused you to scrape your knee. you see a boy run to you who looks about your age.

"are you alright?" he asks holding his hand out.

you take his hand and he helps you up.

"i think so. my knees bleeding though."

"come on. i'll help you to your mom" he smiles "i'm chris by the way!"

"i'm y/n" you said shyly.

"oh y/n honey! what happened to your knee!?" i hear my mom exclaim as chris and i walk towards her.

"i fell and this is chris, he helped me up!" you smile back and forth at him and my mom.

"thank you for helping her chris that was very nice of you!" my mom says

"you're welcome! feel better y/n" he smiles as he runs back to the playground.

years later...

"it's crazy to think how we met because you scraped your knee" he says rubbing your belly with one hand and holding the steering wheel with the other.

you're 19 weeks pregnant with your first baby and you both are currently on the way to the park you first met in as kids for your gender reveal, just the two of you.

"what do you think they'll be?" you ask.

"hopefully a healthy happy baby"

"i hope so" you smile

chris parks the car and he walks over to you side to help you out the car. you walk, hand in hand, to a picnic table under the shade and unpack the cake from the box. you brought plastic knives and plates as well as forks.

"are you ready y/n?"

"to tell you the truth, no but let's do it."

chris holds the knife and you put your hand on top of his. you close your eyes and cut into the cake together. you feel your heart pounding out of your chest at the moment and i'm sure chris feels the same.

you finally pick up the slice of cake and place it on a plate.

"okay we open our eyes in 3...2...1..." he says

you open your eyes to look at the plate and you see a layer of pink frosting between the two layers of cake.

"A GIRL. I'M GONNA BE A GIRL DAD. Y/N WE'RE HAVING A GIRL!" he yells excitedly and hugs you.

tears start to flood dow your face and you throw your head in your hands with a wave of emotion coming over me.

"baby whats wrong?" he asks pulling you close.

"i'm scared chris"

"hey, hey, hey, it'll be fine, the doctors can give you an epidural and just listen to what they tell you to do in order to get through it."

"not about birth chris, about h-having a girl. i'm scared of raising a girl. i'm scared of bringing her into this world and i'm scared we wont be able to p-protect her." you sob.

"don't worry, darling. we'll protect her, we'll love her, and we'll teach her all she needs to know. she's gonna be amazing just like her mama." he kisses the side of your head and rubs your arm.

"you know, your parents did a great job raising you." you smiled up at him wiping your tears. "from the moment you helped me up when i fell, i knew i would love you for the rest of my life.”