#guess i could grab a coffee or something and go for a walk... i feel okay enough for that. and i could make it a short walk

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Jin "Jiji" Enjoji relationship headcanons

warnings: fem!reader, spoilers beyond the Cursed House arc, OOC, tooth-rotting fluff.

Special thanks to @miaurieee for beta-reading this draft before I posted it :3 I am caught up with the Dandadan manga series up to Volume 10, which somehow I was able to acquire over the Christmas break by nothing short of a miracle given to how my local bookstore keeps running out of stock 😅 So if you don’t want to be spoiled, it’s probably not a good idea to venture any further.

For those who have chosen to stay, I hope you’ll enjoy these headcanons~!

Although he is a flirty and weird-ass drama queen by nature, Jiji is the sweetest guy that a girl would love to have as a boyfriend. Not only is he charismatic, funny, easygoing, he is also loyal. Once he knows he has found that special someone, he is in it for the long haul. And he knows that it’s you because…well, he’s got great instincts! :3

He would definitely walk you to and from school.

Do you want a drink from the school cafeteria? No problem! Just give him a few and he’ll be right back~! He might seem a little flighty, but Jiji has a really good memory. Remember how he knew Momo preferred Pompy even when it’s been years since he’s seen her? Yeah, he’ll have your likes and dislikes memorized in no time.

Dates with Jiji would be spontaneous; ranging between cozy and quiet, like window-shopping around the city and then grab something at the coffee shop, adrenaline-pumping like playing against each other at the local arcade to see who can win the most tickets or going on all the rides at the amusement park, it’s honestly the luck of the draw. But please don’t feel obligated to do everything in one day just to make him happy, okay? If you’re feeling tired and want to go home or if you’re hungry, he’ll totally understand.

Communication and honesty are important foundations in your relationship, so bottling everything up inside is not a good idea and might cause Jiji to second-guess himself or think he’s doing something wrong.

Now, in regard to the whole Evil Eye scenario: he will insist that you stay away from the Ayase residence until the exorcism is completed. He has a mountain yokai inside of his body, and it was his own fault for inviting him inside. The last thing he wants is something to happen to you and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. This would happen if you two started dating right after he transferred schools or continued dating until he left town for the city after his parents’ hospitalization.

Flash forward to Okarun making a deal with the Evil Eye and fighting the yokai on Tuesdays after school, with the cursed underwear being safely kept at Manjiro’s shrine. Once he knows that the Evil Eye will not break his promise, especially after accidentally transforming a few times at home, Jiji will feel a little more at ease being around you. Just don’t go around splashing anything cold on him, just in case. Room temperature is fine. His chi training is paying off, so in the unlikely event that it does happen, he can revert the transformation and go back to normal. He might be a little tired afterwards, though.

If you two weren’t already together prior to the Evil Eye situation, Jiji would definitely be falling head over heels for you as time passed. He would see you as someone who is amazing in their own way, even if you had some glaring flaws and were a bit of a weirdo too :3 Brownie points if the Evil Eye actually doesn’t call you a turd and is semi-well-behaved when he’s around you at school or in public.

Treat this eccentric dude right, and your relationship will definitely be one heck of a rollercoaster ride that will be full of firsts, maybe some scary things, but he’ll be by your side through it all.

Taglist: @bdudette @hoodiepandaninja16 @napbatata @karai-frost @kazudare @myduality @shidousprincess @sleep-all-day-everyday @taesy-miranda-lee @osarumi @satorousgf @cherie-soup @skwunkler @melodiblues @anonymity-222 @cumbersome-robes @zero-in-kyoto @h0undd0gzw0rld @decay-1 @justamegafan @minnie-1-3 @bumblebeebutter @theofficialfem @sadprimrose @bigbodycity @daniiixoxo @silentbreathss @skelletonscloset @mira-belcul18 @thatstrangesheep @thewindigo

[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 11

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Warnings: hungover reader, i think thats it

Summary: 1 day after your intense dinner and "after party" with Joel, your head is fogged. you arent sure where to go or what to do from here. (1400k+)

a/n: hey im back. probs gonna end this soon bc tbh, idk where its going. leave feedback but be nice :P. ps didnt proof, prob lots of errors, oops. pps sad soppy soft joel inbound.

Chapter 10 - Masterlist - Chapter 12 (Coming Soon)

You wake up and your head is pounding. Last nights clothes still littering the floor, and the sun barely creeping in your window. You stumble into the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and grabbing the bottle of Advil. Popping the cap off and turning the sink on simultaneously, you throw 2 into your mouth and stick your face under the faucet, taking in 2 giant gulps of water. You walk back into your room, sighing at the sight. Yesterdays memories flooding in, playing in your brain like a movie you cant turn off. You pick up your ripped shirt and toss it in the trashcan, and your jeans in the hamper. 

The coffee pot is dripping and the aroma fills your house. You get your favorite mug out of the cabinet and pour yourself a cup, leaving room for a splash of creamer. You plop into the same spot as usual on your couch, not even turning the TV on. You begin to sequence every event of yesterday, nitpicking every singular detail. Instead of your usual tears, you begin to feel anger. You’re mad at how you were spoken to, how you were treated, how you were left. You decide that this time, you arent extending the olive branch. One too many times have you tried to make up for actions that aren’t your responsibility. 

After 4 hours of deep cleaning, you grab the 3 baskets of clean laundry from the laundry room and haul them to your couch. You begin folding everything you’ve let pile up since Penny was here. You miss her. You go to reach for your phone, and it isn't there. You remember Joel grabbing it from you, dropping it on your bedroom floor. You head to your room, and pick it up off the floor. It’s dead. Of fucking course. You let out the 50th sigh of today and grab the charger. You turn the TV on and flip to How I Met Your Mother, another comfort show of yours. While you wait for your phone to turn on, you fold and hang fold and hang. A never ending cycle it seems. After the first basket, your phone comes back on and you dive for it, checking to see if you have any missed calls or texts from Joel. There isn’t a single one. 

You call Penny, detailing your Thanksgiving with the Millers. 

“And then he left. He just fucking left.” You say, peering out your window towards Joels. Hoping for any sign of life.

“What the fuck do you mean he ‘left’?!” Penny says, loud enough that you have to pull the phone away from your ear. 

“He left. His eyes looked different, but he just walked out. I didn’t chase him and he didn’t come back. AND he has a fucking girlfriend. I truly don’t-” Penny interjects. 

“A fucking girlfriend?!?! Im actually going to kill this man.” 

You let out a sigh. “I just don’t know what to do Pen. The sex was so fucking good. I loved being dominated like that but the circumstances surrounding it fucking blow. I refuse to be the first to speak so I guess parent-teacher conferences will just have to be awkward from now on.” 

“Honestly, its his loss Yellow. I wish I could do something or help.” Penny says, disgruntled. 

“I know Pen, but just talking to you about it helps.” you say calmly. Soaking in her vibes through the phone. 

Your phone beeps. 

“So, Im thinking about-” 

“Hold on Pen” you say, switching her to speaker and checking your texts. 

“Holding!” she says cheerfully. 

“Its Joel.” you say. 

“What?” Penny says, every ounce of cheerfulness leaving her voice, a sort of rage fillingit instead. 

You didn’t mean to say it outloud but you did. 

“Well what the hell did he say?!”

“I refuse to look. He can kiss my ass.” You retort, both of you erupting in laughter. 

A couple more hours go by on the phone with Penny. You learn that her time in Ireland may be cut short due to her moms health. It’s a weird feeling for you. You want Penny to be happy but you also miss her so much. 

“Okay Pen. I’ve gotta make some dinner and get this laundry put in drawers instead of living in a basket.” 

“I miss you yellow. I’ll see you soon, okay? Let me know if anything happens with Joel.” she responds. 

You had completely forgotten Joel texted you. You’re nauseous. 

“I will. Love ya!” 

“Love ya!” 

The call disconnects. You sigh, dragging the 3 laundry baskets to your room. You sit on your bed, and look out the window. Joel’s curtains in the same place they have been, neatly on the windowsill. 

You follow through on your word, and you don’t even read Joels text. You put your laundry away and scrounge up some dinner. You eat leftover pasta and garlic knots and settle in for the night, cozying up under a blanket on your very loved couch. 

You wake up to a knocking on your door. It’s dark so you’re weary. Looking out the peephole, you see Joel. He’s in jeans and a flannel but he looks disheveled. His normally bright eyes are now withdrawn and dull, his arms sitting heavily at his sides, holding flowers. You’re hesitant to open the door. Partially because nothing good comes from late nights with him, and partially because you have no desire to speak to him. He drained you emotionally, and made you feel small. 

“What do you want, Joel?” you say through the door, pulling yourself away from the peephole. 

“P-please open it. I just wanna t-t-talk to ya.” His voice sweet as molasses, but cracking.

“Joel, realistically I have nothing to say.” You take a deep breath, struggling to keep your voice from shaking. “We are not good for each other, in any capacity. I think we both made that clear to each other over the last few weeks.” 

A tear falls slowly from his right eye. 

“Yellow. P-p-please.” He blubbers through a few more tears. 

You sigh and open the door, leaving the storm door shut.

His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is a wreck, and his posture is depressing. 

“Joel-”

“Please just let me talk, and then I’ll go. I promise.” he says. You nod, signaling him to go ahead. 

“Im so sorry. For everything. Im sorry for how I spoke to you, for how I let Celeste speak to you, for not sticking up for you-” he takes a deep breath in, “Most of all, Im sorry for not being more clear with my intentions from day one.” his head drops. 

"From the moment I saw you, everything changed. I can still remember the first time our eyes met—it was like the world paused for a second. I didn’t know you yet, but something about you felt familiar, like I had been waiting for you without even realizing it.” he pauses, sniffling. 

“There was this quiet kind of magic in the way you moved, in the way your smile lit up the room. I didn’t know it then, but I was already falling. It’s like my heart recognized you before my mind did, and it just couldn’t let go. I tried to ignore it, tried to convince myself it was just a fleeting moment, a passing attraction. But the more I saw you, the more I couldn’t escape it.” 

And you say nothing. Because he’s lowkey been a dick from day one, so you’re confused. 

“Joel, respectfully, you were an ass to me the day we met. You don’t treat someone you care about this much, like that.” You say blankly. 

“I was scared. After Sarah’s mom cheated on me, I had no interest in finding someone. As far as I was concerned, it was just her and I. No one else mattered, and I didn’t mind it.” 

“That still isn’t a reason to treat me the way you did. Nothing about what we did was normal. Fun? Sure. Normal? Not really.”

He sighs. “I know, and I’m sorry. I want to fix it. I want to do right by you.” he says, his puppy dog eyes looking up at you. 

“Joel I don’t-” he interrupts.

“You dont have to give me an answer tonight, or hell even this week. But I like you, and I want to give you the world. And I think if we could start over, I could do that. I could be better, for you.” He says, a glimmer of hope in his eyes for the first time in weeks 

You nod your head. “I’ll let you know.” you say, opening the storm door. “Thanks for popping by, and for apologizing. I appreciate it.” 

He hands you the flowers with a nod, and turns back toward his house, borderline disappearing in the haze.

[leatherbookmark]

it's half past 8am 20 to 9am and i'm feeling kinda. hmm. not exactly sleepy but i've been awake forrrrr 12 hours. どうすればいいか

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Barista who is the “poster boy”of the coffee shop he works at. It is honestly deserved: he has a pretty face, a charming smile and a playful yet sweet attitude. He is especially popular among the girls…who he keeps rejecting. He is just not looking for something casual, you know? He dates to marry, not to be someone’s eye-candy.

Yandere!Barista who, one day, sees you walk into the store. Is that a Corroded Coffin shirt you have on ? He loves that band! This is what he tells you when it is your turn to order. What do you mean he looks too much like a goody two-shoes to be a fan? Alright, Miss “I am so dark and edgy”, what do you want to order? Black coffee? The banter goes on until he has to shoo you away, with an amused smile, as the other people in line are starting to get impatient.

Yandere!Barista who glances your way every chance he gets. Not only are you fun to talk to, but you also look really cute. Sometimes, between orders, he gets to converse with you. He eagerly returns your small wave when it is time for you to leave. As he goes to your table to collect the receipt, he finds your cup still there. On it, there is a small doodle of him along with your number. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he brings a hand to cover the side of his face. He is definitely keeping that cup.

Yandere!Barista who saved your number under “Cutie <3”. The more you text each other, the more you hang out together, the more he becomes obsessed. It is honestly starting to scare him. The other night, he had your cup in his hands to look at the doodle. Next thing he knew, he had his lips where yours had been when you were drinking from it. It flustered him so much, he threw the cup in the trash bin afterwards…only to go get it back five minutes later…He is asking you out on a date for sure next time he sees you.

Yandere!Barista who does your coffee with trembling hands. He really doesn’t want to do this, but you didn’t leave him a choice. Today, on your usual table, you are sitting with a man other than him. He can’t possibly lose the only person who took the time to get to know him beyond his looks. The drug should work in about fifteen minutes, five minutes after closing time. This should be perfect, you always wait for him to close the shop and walk home together. He can do this, he can do this, he can do this…You will be happy at his house, you will be happy with him. It is with a heavy mind and painful heart that he gives you your order.

Yandere!Barista who you got pinned against the wall of the storage room, one hand beside his head and the other one holding your cup. He is as white as a ghost. He keeps looking around. He is sweating all over. This couldn’t be. You couldn’t possibly know- You firmly grab his jaw and turn his face towards you. “Drink”, you say coldly. What are you gonna do to him after he becomes unconscious? Will you report him to the police? Will you hurt him? He closes his eyes tightly as you bring the cup to his lips. The moment it reaches them, you drop it on the floor and replace it with your lips. His eyes open in shock as you give him a small, tender kiss. “That was my cousin, idiot”, you tell him affectionately. You look at him for a couple more seconds before putting on your bag. He is still frozen in place as you add: “Tomorrow, 6pm, at my house. Alright?”. You leave before he can answer.

Yandere!Barista who slides down the wall until he is sitting on the floor. All that is left of him is a blushing, quivering mess. With shaky fingers, he touches his lips; a small whimper involuntarily comes out his mouth. He is about to combust. He feels so weak, he can’t get up. You scared the shit out of him, but that was so hot ahh…He didn’t know you could be this assertive. And that kiss…he buries his face in his hands and groans. Kissing you is all he has ever dreamed of, yet he stayed still like a dumbass when it finally happened. He is so lame-you make him so lame. Guess tomorrow would be his chance to redeem himself.

[euthymiya]

part two

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”

[babyleostuff]

things they unconsciously do for you | ot13

[☁️] seungcheol

protecting you

choi seungcheol is a protector through and through (you could say that sometimes he’s a tad too protective, but it’s simply because he loves you so much and he would most likely end up with a meltdown if he saw you hurt). covering sharp corners, walking on the outside of the pavement, holding your hand in big crowds, cutting the meat for you - doing all of these things is like second nature for cheol. he never thinks about doing them, like “oh, they dropped their spoon, maybe i should cover the table corner so they don’t bump their head”. no no. he just does it, simple as that. and good luck to the person that tries to make you uncomfortable or invade your personal space because well… choi seungcheol will fight them

[☁️] jeonghan

wrapping you up with a scarf/ putting on beanie 

jeonghan, as someone who gets cold easily, is very vary around the people around him being cold as well. he’s always more than happy to share some of his body heat with someone else, especially because hugging means more warmth. when it comes to you, though, there is no way you’re getting out of the house without a thick scarf and a beanie. it doesn’t matter if you get easily cold or not, jeonghan does not let you out of the house before you’re properly bundled up. the first thing he grabs when you’re getting ready to go out is your/ his scarf and a beanie, and he dresses you up like a mom dresses up a child, but there’s nothing you can do about it. and if you come to the practice room without anything wrapped around your neck, jeonghan is quick to change that, as he pulls out his own scarf to give it to you.

[☁️] joshua

ordering for you

sometimes being social - even if it’s just ordering food - can be overwhelming, and shua understands that completely. he never judges you for it, he could never, and that alone makes you feel so much better. he never minds it when you cling to his arm, standing beside him while he’s ordering coffee, or when you point to the food on the menu so he could tell the waiter what you want to eat. sometimes he doesn’t even has to ask you what you want to order because he knows you so well by now that he can guess what type of boba you’re craving that day or which type of pasta you want to get. 

[☁️] jun

brushing your hair 

jun likes his silent acts of service, brushing your hair being one of them. whether it be after you wake up, or after a shower, jun finds brushing your hair to be very calming, so it’s also a way for him to distress and spend some time with you as well. sometimes you sit in silence, sometimes you talk about your days, but it’s always so intimate without being sexual, and there’s something beautiful about that. and he adores looking at your sleepy reflection in the mirror, your eyes closing on their own, as he gently runs a brush through your hair, making sure not to pull too harshly.

[☁️] hoshi

carrying your bag 

it doesn’t matter what colour it is, if it’s a tote bag or a small baguette one - hoshi is going to carry it, like the gentleman he is. for one, he figures it must be uncomfortable and tiresome to carry a bag around all the damn time, also he doesn’t want you to strain your shoulders too much, so whenever he’s around he is going to be the one to carry it. and he always makes sure before you go out that you have all of your necessities packed in case you forgot something too. also, as much as he’s easy to distract, when he holds your bag at parties he turns on his bodyguard mode, protecting that bag like his life depends on it, clutching it closely to his body (will glare if someone dares to step too close to it).

[☁️] wonwoo

taking of your glasses after you’ve fallen asleep 

as a person who wears glasses himself he knows how annoying and uncomfortable it is to fall asleep with your glasses on (not to mention that they can break too), so this is as natural as breathing for him. he probably has a couple of photos in his camera roll of you asleep with your glasses on, but sometimes you look too adorable for him not to take a quick picture for him to coo over later. he always gently takes them off as not to wake you up, and places a kiss on your forehead, before putting your glasses away so they wouldn’t break on accident.

[☁️] woozi

(i don’t really know how to name this?) 

woozi is an insanely attentive man, which is one of the reasons why he’s so great at those silent acts of service that make your heart flutter so much. he picks up the smallest things - like shifts in your mood when you’re upset or feeling a bit down, and while at the beginning of your relationship he was a bit awkward with that since he wasn’t really sure how to help you, now he knows exactly what you need. it’s not even that he has to think about holding your hand or hugging you, or just simply sitting next to you - it’s almost like his body gravitates towards you on its own, like it knows you need him by his side in that moment. you could argue that it’s the bare minimum (which it is), but with jihoon it’s so natural, like i hope you get what i’m trying to say - but the way he’s always there right by your side when you need him without having to mention that you’re not feeling that well is everything you could ever ask for. 

[☁️] dk

holding your hand in big crowds 

all seokmin wants is for you to be happy, loved, and safe. grabbing your hand when you’re in big crowds is a no brainer for him, it’s like his hand moves by itself, finding yours, and intertwining your fingers. he never lets go, not before he’s sure you’re safe with a smaller amount of people around you, where you wouldn’t get lost or swarmed by the crowd, and even then he usually keeps on holding your hand. and if you get stuck in a big crowd, like during a concert or a festival, he often pulls you to his chest, and puts his arms securely around you, so he’s sure no one will bump into you or step on your foot.

[☁️] mingyu

cooking for you 

mingyu loves cooking and eating, that much we know. but what he loves more is cooking for you. to be honest, making food for you has always been something obvious for mingyu, from the very beginning of your relationship, and he never saw it as a chore or something he felt obligated to do. preparing breakfasts on your days off, making you lunch for work/school, cooking dinner for your at home dates - it brings him so much joy because not only does he get to do what he loves, but it also reassures him that you’re eating well and not skipping any meals (whenever he finds out you skip meals you end up with a very sulky and low key angry kim mingyu).

[☁️] minghao

buying you clothes

it’s not that he doesn’t like your style or thinks you’re bad at choosing your outfits, on the contrary - during the first stages of your relationship he payed a lot of attention to what you liked to wear, and for which types of clothes you went for, so that he could spoil you with clothes and accessories you liked, making sure you’d be comfortable in them and feeling 100% you. now, whenever he saw something he knew you’d like he immediately bought it, with no second thoughts. it’s kind of comforting to know that your significant other knows you so well that they know exactly what you’d like or what would draw your attention if you were shopping yourself.

[☁️] seungkwan 

singing/ humming you to sleep 

it’s not like he lays down and automatically starts singing, but he does that whenever he sees you need it. sometimes it’s singing, sometimes it’s only humming, but it’s like his body just knows you need something to soothe your mind to fall asleep. whenever he feels you shuffling around, tossing and turning, unable to find a comfy position - he gently grabs you by your waist, and pulls you a bit closer to him, and starts singing/humming. he doesn’t think much about doing it, it’s like an automatic response because one of the most heartbreaking sights for boo is seeing you unable to rest, unable to get your well deserved sleep.

[☁️] vernon

refilling your snacks drawer 

there’s just something about vernon and him noticing all of those small things about you, and what you love. and one thing you definitely love is him and your snacks. he noticed early in your relationship that you had a drawer in your kitchen dedicated solemnly to your favourite snacks, but also how bad you were at refilling it. thus, he took it upon himself to refill it so you could always have something to munch on, and with time it became such a habit of his that he stopped paying attention that he was actually doing it. whenever he was doing grocery it was obvious to him that the first aisle he had to go to was the snacks aisle so he could pick up all of your favourites. 

[☁️] dino

refilling your water bottle 

another very attentive man with acts of service as his love language. whether you’re actually good at keeping track of how much you drink, or if you don’t pay much attention to it - chan always re-fills your water bottle for you (he was probably the one to buy it in the first place, choosing a colour to match your aesthetic). he knows how important it is to drink proper amounts of water throughout the day, so making sure you drink sufficient amount of it is as natural as brushing his teeth for him. whenever you’re studying/ working he comes into your room, grabs your water bottle and re-fills it. same as when you’re getting for school/work in the morning - he fills it with water, and puts it back in your bag (sometimes he sticks a note to it as well, with a cute “i love you” message).

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[aceday]

Agatha Harkness x Reader and Rio Vidal x Reader

summary: you’re but an innocent young actor slightly in over your head filming a movie opposite rio vidal, directed by milf extraordinaire agatha harkness. what could possibly go wrong and what could possibly go right?

warnings: age gap, slight dub/non!con themes, fingering, oral, slight exhibitionist themes, public sex

*afab gender neutral reader

@covenofagatha @d-z20

i guess i straight fucking lied when i said i don’t do this last time bc here we are again whoop de fucking doo

The Director’s Cut

With a satisfying pop, Rio Vidal’s fingers slip out of your mouth. The fingers of her other hand tighten around your throat, wrangling a strangled moan from your lips, and she pushes you back onto the mattress. Your fingertips scratch desperately at her forearm, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you fight for breath, and Rio’s knee shoves your legs open.

“Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head fervently, a plea in your eyes. Rio releases your throat and you gasp, only for her mouth to be on yours immediately, smothering you, her hands greedily grabbing at your hips, sides, ribs. Her mouth detaches from yours only to find itself immediately at your neck, her hands now attempting to tear your shirt off of you.

“Professor,” you gasp out, voice strained with blissed pain, with velvet panic. With some frantic struggle the shirt is wrenched off of you and the air nips at your skin. The hair on the back of your neck lifts. Rio finally stills for one cold, heavy moment, to stare at you under her, her face contorted in a cool sort of snarl, her eyes sharp.

“You act up, you play by my rules.” Her hand grabs your face, squeezing your jaw painfully. “Understood?”

“I-”

“CUT.”

A scatter of voices and murmurs arise immediately. Rio lets you go and heaves a barely-restrained sigh.

“Cut!” The voice of the director demands again, and both you and your co-star sit up on the mattress. You scratch awkwardly at your throat and look around for your costume shirt somewhere in the sheets.

“It’s wrong, really. Wrong. Fuck.” Agatha Harkness steps onto the set. You squint against the spotlights, feeling your face burn. You and Rio exchange a glance. “The energy, the dynamics. We’re going to have to totally rework this.” She paces furiously. Rio stands from the bed and grabs your shirt, which had apparently been tossed off in the heat of the scene. She hands it to you and you nod gratefully, pulling it back over your head. Agatha has been in an awful mood all day. “We’re going to take twenty. I want everybody to go splash cold water on themselves and get their heads out of their asses.”

You can’t conceal your exhausted sigh as you wriggle awkwardly off the bed. You’re about to go get some water when Agatha snaps her fingers at you, freezing you in your place. With an inward groan and your heart going a million miles a minute, you turn dejectedly to your director.

“Not you. You’re going to meet me in my trailer, asap.” You stare at her for a moment with bald-faced shock, but she’s already turned to her assistant director and is complaining her ear off. You swallow your… so many things, your pride, shame, embarrassment, fury, and stomp off set to the trailer lot.

You don’t bother waiting for Agatha to catch up to throw open the door and walk inside, toeing off your shoes. You’ve never been in her trailer before. It’s not as sterile as you would have imagined; there’s stacks of books and papers and binders and folders and a whole bunch of other boring shit on every flat surface, along with more than a few half-full mugs of what seems to be black coffee.

You slouch doggedly onto her couch, rubbing your eyes. It hasn’t been your best work, you know, but you’re certain you haven’t been bad enough to quite warrant getting chewed out in private. You stare out the small square window. It could be worse, you suppose, she could be chewing you out in public. This is easier to manage, even though you hate the thought of your director being unimpressed with you, but you might as well cut your losses now and move on.

As you sit and stew, the door flies open. Agatha marches in, doused in all black, the sleeves of her button up pushed up to her elbows and her hair tied up into a messy ponytail. She seems to have calmed down a little, a very little amount, well, maybe not at all, actually, maybe she looks angrier than she did before-

The door slams shut and knocks you out of your thoughts. There’s a sizzling silence. A huge knot forms in your throat.

“What was that back there, hmm?”

You don’t know what to say. You cried that take. “I cried that take.” It’s impossible to hide the desperate edge to your voice.

Agatha holds out a finger and your mouth snaps shut. “No excuses,” she hisses, “your face is fine, more than fine, but you act like you’ve never been fucked before.” A huge, violent, and deep blush spreads immediately from your collarbones up. You look away quickly. “You’re simultaneously stiff as a board and loose like a slinky. You wanna look like a slinky out there?”

Agatha has such a way with words. You shake your head. “No, I do not want to look like a slinky out there.”

Agatha doesn’t seem to notice nor care that you’ve spoken. The heat in your face burns brighter as she paces exasperatedly in front of you. Your fingers begin to scratch anxiously at your jeans. “Rio Vidal is a hot young woman. I can’t imagine that she’s not your type. And yet- hours of intimacy coordination later and we’re still at square one.” That’s firstly not true and secondly a bewilderingly unfair thing to say. The rejection stings. Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away furiously, adamant on keeping a tough front for your director. She paces furiously, dizzyingly, back and forth and back and forth. “Seriously, kid. Hours of intimacy coordination and talking and talking and going over the movements step by step. I could do your part in my sleep by now. And maybe I will!” She whirls on you, then pauses. You can’t imagine what you look like right now, your body unnaturally still to keep your leg from bouncing, feeling neon you’re blushing so hard, your jaw clenched, your eyes narrowed and wet.

Agatha has always had a way of being four steps ahead of you, always in the know before there’s even anything to know, so you shouldn’t be surprised when she takes one look at you and suddenly declares, “You’re a virgin,” as if it is the most obvious truth in the world. You look away, trying hard, desperately hard, to maintain your composure. But what can you do? She’s right, for the most part.

Agatha’s eyes narrow when you don’t reply. The manic air about her stills, and you’re suddenly wishing for her fiery temper instead of the cold, calculating dread that suddenly sits heavy between you two. She crosses her arms and continues pacing, but slowly this time, less like she’s being whipped around by her own anger and more like she’s a shark circling something tender and bloody.

“Well,” she says, gesturing lazily in the air, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” You sound defensive. It’s because you are.

Agatha appears to be lost in thought, “No, no,” she hums. “Nothing bad about a little prude ruining my film, hmm?”

Well. That shuts you up. Your mouth is closed, your eyes are a little wide in disbelief, you’re pretty sure this kind of talk violates some sort of workers rights something, and upon seeing your speechless state, the ghost of a smirk tugs at Agatha’s lips. A shiver runs down your spine.

In stunned silence you flounder, opening and closing your mouth like a fish, while Agatha waits, leveling you with her knowing stare, sizing you up, her eyes tracing up and down your frigid form, for you to say something.

“I’m sorry?”

Are you apologizing or asking “Excuse me?” - you hardly know. Agatha steps in closer to you, your knees almost touching her legs, what is she thinking? Really, what could she possibly be thinking?

“Are you?” Maybe? Agatha sighs and sits next to you on the couch, an arm slung behind you. “How about I propose something for you, for us, hmm?” She turns to look at you, and you’re suddenly caught in the narrowed ice of her eyes as if under a blinding spotlight. She’s always had one of those absolutely shriveling stares that you can’t tear away from. You nod for her to continue, and a smile crawls on her lips. Something brushes your arm and you flinch, only to realize that her fingertips are floating lightly up and down your bicep.

“Tell you what, kid. I’m having a shit day, I’m definitely making it your shit day, and you’re a little prig that needs to loosen up.” She leans in closer to you, far enough away, but you can feel the heat of her breath, can see each delicate flick of her eyes around your face. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Why don’t I fuck you silly here in my trailer, blow a little steam, and teach you what it looks like to feel so, so, impossibly good?”

You blanch. A terrifying expanse of heat sears down your stomach, not out of embarrassment this time. “E-Excuse me?”

“Tell me, kid. What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“Agatha, I-”

“And don’t pretend like you don’t sneak glances down my shirt every chance you get. I see the way you look at me. The way you’ve been looking at me.”

“No, no, I-”

“Then I’m wrong?”

She’s so close to you now, her mouth hovering just above yours, eyes drifting lazily across your face. The worst part, the worst part about it, is that she’s not wrong, she’s not, you do stare, you do imagine, and even now you can feel sharp tendrils of lust unfurling inside of you, dampening your underwear.

“Come on, kid,” a low whisper, her voice like the trembling string dangling the carrot of her offer in front of your face. “Tell me what you want.”

Breathless: “I…” you shake your head, “I want-” to your infinite surprise, you cut yourself off, pushing your mouth against Agatha’s, your body propelling forward almost as if of its own accord. Agatha hums in delight. She wastes no time.

She climbs on top of you, pushing you back down onto the couch and straddling your hips. Her tongue slides between your lips and, hesitant, your mouth opens, and the kiss grows sloppy, wet, Agatha’s tongue and teeth and lips on and against and in you. You whimper, your hands finding her ribs, your hips bucking involuntarily as her knee slides between your thighs. Your muted breaths melt into a high pitched moan as her knee presses against your cunt.

“I knew it,” Agatha whispers when her mouth breaks from yours, and her head dips down to the soft space between your neck and shoulder. She bites, hard and fast, not enough to leave a mark but enough to send a pained spasm through your body. You tense and dig your fingertips into her sides, and Agatha chuckles.

“Come on, kid,” Agatha says, pushing up on her palms to look down at you. Your lips sting, your chest rising and falling heavily, your breathing audible, not quite gasping, but stuttering. “Pay attention, okay?”

You nod, and Agatha pushes your shirt to your collarbones. She kisses down your naval, down your stomach, her thumbs brushing your nipples and mouth hot beneath your belly button. She looks up at you, eyelashes dark, eyes pale and sharp.

“Are you watching?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Agatha’s fingers undo your jeans. Your heart clenches at the soft snap of the button being released from its denim hold, a cold sweat at the back of your neck as you hear the zipper being pulled down. Agatha looks slowly up and down, between your eyes and each new inch of skin revealed underneath your clothes.

She tugs your jeans off of you, your underwear going with it, the bits of your costume being shed from your body. Agatha sighs, relieved, the way a dog does curling up in a warm patch of sunlight, and your skin dances at the gust of breath crawling up your body.

“I needed this, kid. Let me tell you.” She leans close to your cunt, you already know you’re dripping, you’ve been dripping, but Agatha doesn’t remark on your pathetic state. Instead she hovers close and inhales deeply. “Fuck,” she whispers, barely audible, and your head falls back, a whimper dislodging from your throat.

Her tensed tongue licks slowly through your folds, the tip circling carefully around your clit, and the shudder you release grips your entire body. Your hands, which had, up until this point, been white knuckling the cushions of the couch, fly to your mouth, and Agatha is suddenly on you, lips and tongue breathing pleasure into you like a gust of wind, like fire from a dragon’s belly, and it’s intense, intense. You’ve been fingered a few lackluster times by lackluster people, but Agatha runs hot, runs feverish, and everything feels scalding, your pleasure, your — Agatha scratches down your sides — your pain, and you want more and more and more.

“Agatha,” you mutter. Your voice sounds like it’s being forcefully pulled from your throat. “Agatha.”

Agatha’s fingers play against your folds, joined with her tongue, and your hands thread through her hair. She lifts her head to look at you, and you can see the glisten of yourself on her chin. Her fingers work you, slowly, in tidal beckoning motions. Your pleasure, vague, dazzling waves, suddenly straightens, taut and defined, and you can feel your orgasm inching into you. Your breath becomes shallow.

“Let’s see,” Agatha murmurs, “how did the coordinator do this? Rio has you pinned, she’s being a little violent, there are tears in your eyes, and when she fucks you, she fucks you rough.” Agatha stuffs three fingers into you, setting a brutally slow and violently deep pace. Your yelp sounds more like a cry and Agatha narrows a cold glare at you. “Shut it, kid, I don’t want to have to do it myself.” You bring a hand to your mouth, stifling each staccato whimper to the tune of Agatha’s thrusts. “And I’m sure you don’t want that either.”

Strung with pain, your skin shivering, your heels digging into the cushions, Agatha’s pace finally relents, slows, and she studies you maliciously. “In the next sex scene, our Professor acquiesces, takes pity on her disobedient but young student,” she pulls your thighs over her shoulders. Her fingers slip out of you, and though your body aches with relief, the wavering string of your pleasure keens for more. Agatha chuckles. “This is my favorite part.” She licks a broad stripe against you. You shiver. “You should see the way Rio looks at you when we film this part. It’s perfect every time.”

Agatha crawls up, your knees still hooked around her shoulders, and you whimper, feeling impossibly small as two of her fingers bury gently into you, stroking gently against your walls, her thumb brushing a light touch against your clit. The beaten, puppeted orgasm you’ve been chasing swells once more against you, rearing, an animal about to pounce.

Agatha kisses you, and you’re ready, your lips parted and waiting for her tongue, which slips eagerly between your teeth. You taste yourself. You think of Rio, stripping you on that damn bed, all hard touches and stinging words and dark, velvet eyes, and Agatha behind the camera, in her all black outfit, blending into the shadows behind the key light like a predator, biting the knuckle of her pointer finger, watching and watching. Fuck. It’s hot. It’s so hot. Agatha’s fingertips curl against what you can only imagine is your g-spot and you gasp against her mouth, earning a quick nip of your bottom lip in response.

“You gonna come for me, kid? It’s about time. Just like you do for Rio right about now, hmm?” Your body teeters slowly, achingly slowly, into an orgasm, its golden edges fizzing like a pot about to boil over. You thrash against Agatha, your hands clawing desperately at her back but your body still trapped in the curled contortion she has you pinned in. “Good, good. Much better, right? You’ll be perfect in front of that camera. Just like that, kid. Perfect.”

The thread snaps. Your orgasm douses you. You throw your head back, the cry in your throat wrangled out of you, unbidden, until Agatha slaps a hand over your mouth. “Don’t ruin your pretty voice, kid,” she purrs wickedly, “Save it for the camera.”

Agatha holds you while you shudder through your orgasm, your vision blurred at the edges, eyes unfocused, and she gently frees your legs from her shoulders, kissing you softly. Your hard panting mellows, evening out steadily. Agatha checks her watch and clucks her tongue.

“You made good time, kid. Are you going to remember this?” You nod, running your fingers through your hair. Agatha rights your jeans and helps straighten your shirt, pressing a kiss to your head as you wriggle into your costume.

“Good, because we’re getting right in it. Be ready to run the scene in ten.” A knot of shock flashes through you. Director Agatha is still director Agatha.

“But don’t I…”

“Don’t you what? Smell like sex? Still sensitive in your cunt and legs? That’s the goal, kid. Now get out of my trailer.” She waves you off. You gulp, cursing silently in your head but undeniably relishing in the hot flush at your cheeks. You stuff your feet into your shoes and let the door swing shut loudly behind you.

The team is in motion, cameras adjusting, the boom guy talking with Rio, who has her arms crossed. She casts her gaze briefly to the side and catches sight of you. She pauses. Her eyes narrow. Your stomach flips, but before you can think of what that look could possibly mean, someone grabs your arm. You whip around and face your makeup designer.

“I’ve been looking all over for you! I-” she cuts herself off. You must look a little like a mess, flushed, wet-eyed. If you had to guess, you probably look like Agatha spent the entire break chewing you out. Chewing, no. Eating, on the other hand…

You chuckle dryly, and your designer takes a step back. “Nevermind,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “You look perfect. Break a leg.”

“Alright everybody. Places.” Agatha’s voice cuts like a knife over the noisy bustle. There’s immediate quiet as everyone hustles to their designated spots. “We’re starting from ‘Got something to say now’.”

You situate yourself on the bed. Rio climbs on top of you. A shudder runs unprompted down your spine. With horror, you realize that you are still sensitive. Violently sensitive. Above you, Rio’s eyes narrow. She inhales deeply. You think she’s sighing, but a treacherous thought flickers through your mind that maybe she smells you, smells Agatha, smells you on Agatha on you. Rio’s eyes trace down your body, seeming to clock every unfortunate and incriminating detail. Your messed up hair, your hot skin, your shaking legs.

You’re not sure if it’s to your relief or distress, but Rio chuckles lowly. “Extra lesson, hmm?”

You swallow. “S-Sorry?”

She leans down close to your ear. Her hands wrap slowly around your wrists, pressing them above your head. This wasn’t in the intimacy coordination. “That’s fine. If you’re going to get a little extra help, maybe we can have a little fun, right?”

A knot forms in your throat. Your ears feel hot. “I think-”

Agatha’s voice, booming, as if from heaven. “Scene 30. Take 7. And… action!”

Rio grabs quickly at your throat. You feel dazed, but vaguely remember your blocking and shakily hold onto her forearm. Rio flashes you a toothy smile, a creepy, toothy smile that hollows out your chest. “Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head quickly, and to your surprise, instead of releasing your throat, Rio shoves a knee between your legs, knocking against your clit. You gasp out your next line, “Professor-” and Rio’s fingertips dig harder into the sides of your throat. Her other hand finds your wrist, slamming it above your head, her grip tight. “Professor,” you choke out again, finding Rio’s gaze, the wild, manic look in her eyes shooting guilty sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Please,” you beg, off-script, and this time, Rio relents.

She releases your neck. Your hand flies up to it, your breath scraping down your throat, heavy, but Rio catches your other wrist and shoves it down with the other. “You act up,” she hisses, “you play by my rules.” She gathers both wrists with one hand and strokes a manicured nail down your jaw. You strain your face away, breath light and fluttering.

“Understood?”

At the word, she grabs your jaw sharply, forcing you to meet her eyes. There’s something of a challenge in her gaze. You’d probably break if you weren’t so fucking turned on, but your own arousal dampens your underwear. You feel hot everywhere.

“I understand, Professor,” you whisper. A well timed tear traces from the corner of your eye down your temple. “Please, don’t go too hard.” You blink pathetically up at her. “I didn’t mean to.”

The double meaning is more than received. Rio laughs loudly. “Didn’t mean to? Yeah right.” Her knee pushes up into your hot cunt and you whimper loudly, your eyes rolling back. The hand squeezing your jaw drops down between your legs. You whine and buck your hips. Rio scoffs, shaking her head. It’s miserably clear to her that you’re not acting anymore.

“Pathetic,” she sneers. Her hand quickly unbuttons your jeans and sinks beneath your waistband. Usually, she doesn’t come close to touching you. The jeans are low-rise and loose, but this time, Rio has no qualms about pressing her fingertips against your underwear, no doubt feeling the hot, soaked cloth. She groans and curses.

“Professor,” you gasp, choked. Your tears flow freely now. Her fingertips dig blindly against your cunt, feeling through the fabric your folds, your clit, warm and sensitive. You feel raw from the orgasm you just had, so violently raw, and even the lightest touch sends a dark pleasure scattering through you. You jerk uncontrollably, writhing beneath Rio, feeling an orgasm, a fucking orgasm, climbing panicked below your stomach.

Rio’s mouth crashes down onto yours, as if trying, and failing, to mute each desperate noise that crawls from your throat. The result is you moaning wildly into the kiss, choking around her tongue, her fingers kneading into the cloth and sending you sputtering into a lingering orgasm that you’re not sure ever fully evaporated - a fact Rio seems to be well aware of.

Your body tenses and you careen through the waves of pleasure splashing in you, swallowing you whole. Rio pulls her mouth off of yours to watch the bliss bloom across your face and the cry that erupts from your throat is somehow both a whimper and a howl.

“Much better,” Rio whispers, pulling her hand from your jeans, kissing down your neck and stroking your cheek with her thumb. You can smell yourself on her fingers. You lay there dumbly, shivering through the dregs of your orgasm, sighing into an exhaustion you’ve never known. “That was good, that was really good,” Rio hums, pleased.

When your eyes meet, there’s a bit of tentativeness. This got out of hand. The smile you give her is, you hope, both wayward and reassuring.

“Did I-” you’ve started your line while still out of breath, and interrupt yourself to take a deep breath, “Did I do okay, Professor?” A phrase carrying a triple meaning, at this point. You’d give anything to look at Agatha right now, but manage to stay in character, keep your gaze trained on Rio’s glazed eyes.

“You were amazing,” she whispers, kissing you softly.

“Cut!”

Both Rio and you jolt in surprise. She peels off of you, lightly intertwining your fingers with hers, and you sit up, looking towards Agatha. You only see the camera, and in the darkness, her dark form slides from behind it. Her outline becomes slowly visible as she takes a few steps closer towards you two, though shadows still cut across her. You can see a smile stretch across her face.

“Now that,” she says. “Was perfect.” Agatha turns to face the crew. “On that note, that’s a wrap for today. Everybody go take a cold shower.” Agatha then steps fully into the light. The look on her face is indescribably malicious, a smile that could be angry or just evil, pale eyes glinting. You exchange a glance with Rio and notice a soft heat on her cheeks. “You two, meet me in my trailer first.” Agatha’s eyes narrow. “I want to discuss some notes with you.”

[vroom--vrooming]

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader

Max finds out that Charles is dating his sister

You and Charles have been in a secret relationship for a few months now. It’s been fun, sneaking around and sharing little moments that feel special just to the two of you. Today, Charles plans on surprising you with flowers and food from your favorite place. He’s headed to a flower shop in Monaco to get your favorite flowers, and he’s really excited about it.

As he picks out a beautiful bouquet, he suddenly hears a familiar voice. “Hey, Charles!” It’s Max Verstappen, your brother, not surprised at all since it's Monaco.

“Max! What are you doing here?” Charles asks, trying to act casual while holding the flowers behind his back.

“Just grabbing some coffee,” Max replies, eyeing the bouquet curiously. “Got a hot date or something?”

Charles laughs nervously. “You could say that.”

Max raises an eyebrow but shrugs it off. “Alright, man. Enjoy your date!” They exchange pleasantries, and Charles makes a quick exit, flowers in hand and now on his way to pick up your food, already imagining how happy you’ll be.

***

Later that day, Max decides to drop by your apartment. He walks in without even ringing the bell, and the first thing he notices is the vase of flowers sitting on the coffee table. His eyebrows shoot up. “Wait a minute…” he mutters to himself, remembering the same flowers he saw Charles holding.

Confused, he examines them closely, trying to figure out what’s going on. Just then, he hears some noise from the bathroom. Before he can call out to you, Charles steps out, wrapped only in a towel. He looks completely relaxed, totally unaware of Max’s presence.

Max’s jaw drops as his brain processes the scene. “Charles?!” he exclaims, pointing at him like he’s just seen a ghost. “What are you doing here?”

As soon as you heard your brother's voice you rushed to the living room.

Charles freezes, wide-eyed, and tries to pull the towel tighter around his waist. “Uh… I can explain?”

Max’s eyes dart between you and Charles, and he starts connecting the dots. “So you’re the one who’s been sneaking around with my sister?” Max had his suspicion that you are seeing someone but never figured out who.

You try not to smile at the situation but fail miserably. “Max, it’s not what it looks like!” you say, trying to act innocent while biting your lip.

Max crosses his arms, clearly protective. “Oh really? Because it looks like my sister is dating a Formula 1 driver in a towel!”

Charles stammers, “I promise it’s not weird. We were just—”

“Just what? Practicing your towel dance?” Max interrupts, raising an eyebrow.

Before Charles can answer, he accidentally takes a step back and—whoosh—the towel slips right off!

“Ah!” Max yells, covering his eyes. “I didn’t sign up for this!”

You burst into laughter while Charles quickly grabs the towel, trying to cover himself as best as he can. “This is not how I wanted you to find out!” he exclaims, looking mortified.

Max lowers his hands and shakes his head. “Well, I guess you really are dating my sister, huh?”

Charles, still red-faced, nods sheepishly. “Uh, yeah. I really care about her.”

Max sighs dramatically, pretending to be serious. “Alright, just remember—I have a reputation to uphold as the protective older brother. So if you ever break her heart, I will hunt you down, towel or not.”

Charles laughs nervously, finally relaxing a bit. “Deal. But I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

With that, Max rolls his eyes, a small accepting smile breaking through. “Just put on some pants, man. Seriously.”

As you and Charles share a relieved glance, you can’t help but feel the weight being lifted off your shoulders. Now no more hiding your relationship from your brother.

[rebelspykatie]

Part 2

Part 1

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie stands and follows Steve to the door as he’s pulling on his shoes. He wants to stop him, pull the shoe out of his hand and drag Steve back to the couch, but he doesn’t have any right. He’s not entirely sure Steve won’t push him away if he tries to touch him right now, anyways.

“You think I’m straight and I was convinced you were into me,” Steve leans against the door frame to pull his other shoe on. He mutters under his breath, “I should’ve never listened to Robin an-”

“Robin was in on this?” He interrupts that thought. It throws Eddie. They’re such a tight knit group, he doesn’t know how they were so far off track with him.

“We spent hours going through every stupid interaction we had. Thought we had it all figured out.” He huffs and walks back over to the coffee table to pick up his wallet and keys. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

“No, Steve,” he tries to reach out and grab Steve’s arm, but he moves too quickly and Eddie’s left grasping air, “you’re not.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it, anyways.” Steve scrambles to pull his sweater back on, the cold just starting to seep into the night air outside.

“Can you just slow down for a second?” Eddie stops trying to catch Steve and plants himself in front of the door. “What do you mean, you’re used to it?”

“Are you going to trap me here?”

“Answer the question.”

“This part, Eddie,” he sighs and gestures between them like that means anything to Eddie. “Everyone I’ve ever confessed to or made a move on has had the same reaction.” He looks off to the side, unable to look Eddie in the eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m the problem. Good ole Steve Harrington, too stupid to notice no one is interested in him.”

“Steve, you’re not stupid.”

“Feels like it most of the time.” He pinches his nose again, still not looking at Eddie, more like through him, gaze pinned to somewhere in the middle of Eddie’s chest. “Can you please move? We can pretend like this never happened and I promise I won’t make any weird moves on you ever again. I’m still friends with Nancy and Robin after everything, I can do it with you, too.”

Eddie skips over the whole Robin part of that in his head because he doesn’t have the brain power to analyze anything beyond Steve’s feelings for him. He never saw this coming. No one, boy or girl or anything in between, has ever made a move on Eddie before. He’s the local freak. There’s no way he could have predicted the town’s golden boy hero would make the moves on him.

He takes in how disheveled Steve’s become in the last few minutes. How hastily he’s thrown on his sweater. The mess of Steve’s hair from the hand that’s run through it several times since he got up from the couch. Barely laced up shoes so he could get out the door faster. He’s normally so put together and this, the sight of him so frazzled, frightens Eddie.

They were fast friends after everything happened with Vecna, leaning on each other for support. Becoming inseparable with King Steve wasn’t something Eddie ever imagined, but it was so easy. Neither of them were what each other had built up in their heads from the rumor mill around Hawkins. Eddie’s never had a guy friend as close as Steve. Sure, he had Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, but Eddie’s always been a bit of a loner.

It was impossible to feel alone with Steve as a friend. He had a way of knowing when you needed support, always just there when Eddie felt alone or needed a physical presence when the weight of the upside down was dragging him down. There wasn’t a day in the past six months that Eddie didn’t see Steve, even if it was only in passing or a quick little jaunt down to Family Video, he’s a constant presence in Eddie’s life.

To lose that? Would be like losing a part of himself. Like losing a limb. Losing his home.

And he’s scared. He doesn’t want to let Steve walk out that door, the weight of losing him forever lingering in the air. But he can’t trap him here. That wouldn’t be fair to Steve.

He moves out of the way, taking a step towards Steve, but he sidesteps Eddie and reaches for the door.

“Steve-”

“Don’t worry about me, Eddie,” he doesn’t turn around, but hesitates halfway out the door. “I’ll be fine.”

With the soft click of the door closing, he’s gone.

And that should be the end of it. Closed book. Eddie doesn’t like Steve and Steve needs to move on. There’s not much Eddie can do about that.

But it haunts him.

If you didn’t know Steve, you wouldn’t realize that anything was wrong. He’s acting normal, smile on his face when he jokes with Robin, complaining about the kids being terrors, going to his job.

But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the way his smile droops when he thinks no one’s paying attention to him, in the way Robin protectively hovers around him when Eddie is nearby. It’s clearly a facade he’s putting on to get by.

And Eddie aches. There’s a pit in his stomach that opened up that day and it hasn’t closed. Steve avoids his touch and the chasm grows larger, dragging Eddie further into the darkness. Casual hangouts halted. No more divulging of nightmares or fears late at night. A piece of Eddie is with Steve and he’s bereft of comfort. Unsettled.

He lies awake replaying that kiss over and over in his head. Thinking about what Steve said after. There’s no comfort in the way he handled the situation. It feels like he miscalculated, like pushing Steve away was the wrong move and now his life will never be the same again.

Maybe it won’t. Maybe there’s no way for them to move forward and for him to not break Steve’s heart every day. Steve said he was an idiot, but Eddie’s positive he’s got it all backwards. Eddie’s the idiot.

And he can’t stop thinking about kissing Steve.

[mywritersmind]

TELL ME IF YOU HATE ME - KA12

summary : kimi has a crush and a shit way of dealing with it, you think he hates you.

listen up : not proof read lolz! requests are open!!

word count : 1683

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The cars zoom past me as I press my finger down and a series of clicks sounds from my camera. I smile, holding my camera up and making sure I got the shot I wanted.

I did.

I see a flash of red by the garage which makes me breathe out, Ollie just crashed and I know it freaked him out. I put my eye to my camera again, zooming in so I can see if he’s okay.

He is.

I snap some far photos of the garages, passing Ferrari, then McLaren, and right as I'm about to skip over Mercedes, something catches my eye.

Lewis isn’t the one who gets out of his car, but a smaller boy with a mess of brown curls. He claps one of the pit crew members on the back and smiles. As he turns to face the track, I get a full view of his face.

Kimi Antonelli.

I had forgotten about the boy who’s driving with Mercedes next year. Ollie was talking my ear off about it last week but still… I guess I was so focused on shooting the cars that I didn’t realize who was in it.

I snap a photo of him, the light hitting his face perfectly as he takes a deep breath.

I’ve never met him, but I was forced to follow Prema by Ollie so I know he fits into Ollie’s odd life perfectly.

I walk back into the ferrari garage, smiling at my boss who takes my camera from me. I’m doing an internship, specifically with Ferrari's media team. Once they found out I like photography, they let me have a camera and media access.

I smile at Ollie who shoots me a thumbs up, letting me know he’s okay. I end up eating alone while scrolling on my phone, some people walk past but because free practice 2 is happened, most people are watching.

I take a bite of my salad and scroll once more. I get a weird feeling after my third bite, and when I look up, it’s the last thing I expect.

Kimis there.

He’s still in his race suit, his hair messy and a water bottle in his hand. His eyes get big when I turn to him. I’m about to raise my hand to wave but he spins around and bolts in the other direction.

I laugh out loud but when I look around, no one’s there to have seen it.

That was… weird.

⋆༺

“Hey, Y/n!” Ollie yells to me across the paddock, he’s standing with Kimi and Jack Doohan. I smile and wave, saying goodbye to who I was speaking with, and flipping my hair over my shoulder before making my way over to them.

“Hey! Happy Quali day!” I smile at them, especially Jack because I haven’t seen him all weekend.

“What are you up to today?” The australian asks me, his hands in his pockets.

“Taking pictures mostly, trying to get a bad one of Charles, and watching Quali. How about you guys?” I turn pointedly towards Ollie and Kimi but the Italian has his eyes pointed elsewhere and his mouth shut.

“Kimi and I.” Ollie grips Kimis shoulder and practically forces him to look at me, he smiles softly but looks back at Ollie as he talks, “are doing the same! Minus the photos and stuff. Wanna grab lunch with us later?”

I nod, pulling out my phone as I get a call, “Shit, i’m so late! See you guys later!”

⋆༺

Quali is fun and the Mexican fans are absolutely exhilarating. After getting caught up with photos, I finally met Ollie and Kimi in the Ferrari hospitality.

Except there’s no Kimi.

I raise a brow as we sit down, “Does Kimi not like me?”

Ollie moves his food around, “Uh… I don’t think so. Why?”

I shrug, “I just get the feeling he doesn’t really enjoy my company. Which hasn’t been much around him.”

Ollie frowns, “No! He just had to shoot something for Mercedes. He wanted to come.”

⋆༺

You know those times where you wish you could go back in time just five seconds? That’s how I feel right now.

“No!” I yell as Kimi turns the corner with four coffees in his hands and runs directly into me. “Fuck!” I back away from him, shaking off my hands instantly.

“Ah!” He does the same, looking up at me slowly, “I am so sorry…” This is the first time he speaks to me? Seriously!?

I take a breath, trying to gain control of my mind that’s screaming. I peel off my sweater, luckily my shirt underneath is untouched.

“I- Shit.” I groan and wipe my arms off with my sweater, “What are you, an errand boy!? I thought I was the one with an internship.” He laughs at this, then slaps his hand over his mouth.

“I’m genuinely so sorry.” He shakes his head, everything on me now smelling like coffee. I look at his shirt which is partly splashed.

“It’s not fine but It wasn’t on purpose.” I shrug, just staring down at the coffee cups.

“I’m such an idiot.” He groans, “Look, I’ll buy you a coffee to make it up to you.”

I smile slightly, crossing my arms, “Coffee in Ferrari hospitality is free. I’m assuming it’s the same for Mercedes.” He shakes his head, looking horrified.

“That shit is gross. I know a place.”

The ‘Place’ in question is in the general admission area. He pulls on my ferrari hat for extra security and grabs our coffees quickly.

“I actually can’t believe you’re wearing red.” We walk the back way, laughing. Maybe he doesn’t hate me? Or maybe he does and the coffee was all apart of some scheme.

He side eyes me, “Neither can I.” He pulls it off of his head, “Toto would kill me.”

Ollie finds us the second we step foot in the paddock, “Hey! Don’t tell me you became friends without me! Do not forget that I started this!”

“Yeah ok, Ol- I’ll give you friendship creds.” I pat his shoulder as he frowns.

⋆༺

It’s dark by the time I head out of the paddock, yawning, I notice Kimi on his phone. “Hey!” I say, smiling as he looks up at me.

Except his face does that weird thing again.

His cheeks go red and he looks like he’s forcing a smile. “Hi.” He says softly.

“Good day?” He nods, looking back at his phone and clearing his throat.

“Yeah.” He keeps it quick before walking away, “Bye.”

“Bye…?” Okay. So I don’t think I'm going crazy now because that was one weird ass conversation. If you can even call it that.

⋆༺

I wake up on race day and do my morning ritual, scrolling on instagram. I don’t go through all of my notifications often, but today something caught my eye.

Liked by Kimi Antonelli

The post is laughable, it’s from two years ago, Ollie and I were celebrating our birthdays since they fall on the same day.

Weird, Again.

I get ready and head out even though that stupid like is on my mind the whole time.

As if the universe is sending a message, I walk into the paddock at the same time as Kimi. He’s talking to his team member in fast italian and I ignore the fact that it’s 100% hot and focus on the fact that he 100% ignored me!

I call Ollie immediately, “Your friend hates me.”

I hear him laugh on the other side of the phone, “Kimi?”

“See! You already know who I'm talking about!” I groan as I enter Ferrari hospitality.

“Y/n. I think you just make him nervous.”

I stop dead in my tracks, “What?”

“Look, I absolutely love you. But you have a total resting bitch face!” I scoff at him even though I know it’s true, “He sees you taking photos a lot and even though I try to get him to talk to you, he’s like scared or some shit. I think he thinks you’re pretty too.”

I hang up.

⋆༺

I watch from the garage, spirits are high but I find myself distracted as Kimis face comes up on the screen.

Why is he so cute?

I bite my lip and think. I want him to like me. I want him to be friends with me like how he is with Ollie! So why can’t he see that? I mean, there’s a possibility he just doesn’t like me.

In that case, that’s fine! I just want to know.

My thoughts are how I find myself cornering him with my arms crossed and my actual bitch face on.

“Um… yes?” He looks scared.

“Do you not like me, or something?” He frowns, “I mean- If you don’t, that’s fine! But I don’t fuck with people who aren’t honest. Because I know i’m not completely likable to everyone and genuinely I don’t care if you don’t like me but I sorta hope you do because Ollie is my friend and Ollie is your friend and he wants us to be friends!” I take a breath.

Kimi just blinks, “I do like you.”

I roll my eyes.

“I just… felt embarrassed.” I raise a brow. Embarrassed? “I dumped coffee on you! And then I liked that post which had Ollie telling me to stop screaming into my pillow.” I laugh at that. “I just… I'm not good with pretty girls.”

That has me frozen.

“And you’re like scary pretty.”

I laugh, smiling, “You’re totally boosting my ego right now.” He just called me pretty.

He rolls his eyes, standing up straighter, “I’m sorry for being awkward.”

I sigh dramatically, “It’s fine.” I flip my hair over my shoulder, smirking, “My good looks just stuns people sometimes-”

He pushes my shoulder, “Oh fuck off!” I laugh with him, his cheeks red again, “Can I make it up to you?”

I bite my lip, hiding my smile, “Pick me up at 8.”

[prettycoolgirl]

young rich & in love

pairing: dbf!logan howlett x f!reader. summary: sunday night football with your dad and logan, who knows what’s gonna happen... a/n: hey, my comeback has arrived!! i haven't posted fanfic on here in sooooooo long but hopefully, this makes up for it, i've had this idea in my head for weeks and finally decided to write it (saveeee me old man logan). please lemme know if i made any errors i hateee proofreading 😭 tyyy <33 also feel free to send me concepts!  warnings: 18+, smut ofc, age gap (reader is in her 20s). implied panty stealing. oral (m receiving). small daddy kink? definitely more warnings… word count: 2.7k 

It was your Father's and Logan's daily Sunday routine of watching football games together yet today was different. You walked past the living room and saw Logan sitting on the couch, with a beer in his hand, eyes focused on the screen as he watched the game. Your dad was in the kitchen getting snacks and a couple of more Coors, leaving the two of you alone in the room. Logan caught you just in time and smiled, his eyes lingering on you. "Hey, why don’t you come and watch the game with us," he said.

 “As much as I would love to hear you and my dad constantly screaming at the TV, I can’t I gotta get ready for my date tonight with Jacob, sorry” you smiled slightly. Quickly Logan's smile faded at the mention of your date. He tried to hide it, but you could still see a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

 "Oh no need to be sorry bubs, and How’s he treating you?" he questioned. 

"He’s been treating me well I guess." you said stating the last part quietly, deep down you knew you weren’t telling the truth, the truth is that he’s been flaking on dates between you too because he “doesn’t feel well”, yet your friends send you photos that same night of his Instagram stories where he’s out partying with friends.

 Logan’s eyebrow raised upon hearing your response. “What do you mean ‘Well I Guess’” He asked. “You don’t sound so sure about that baby” He drank a bit of his beer looking into your eyes. 

 That nickname he used so often with you, always seemed to have an effect on you. For context, You always had a crush on Logan, you thought it would have gone away with it just being a ‘stupid teenage crush’ but no it wasn't. The crush on that man had gotten stronger the older you’ve gotten. You hoped he had some sort of crush on you at all. Some days you would notice all the side glances he would make when you exited the house all dressed up or even when you would kiss Jacob goodbye when he dropped you off at home. 

 “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it Logan.” you tried to reassure him. 

You knew Logan was hard to try to convince him of something. He knew you were keeping something from him, and he was going to get it out of you. 

“I know you too well, Something’s bothering you, You know you can talk to me. I won’t tell your old man.” He put his beer down on the coffee table and turned closer towards you.

“Tell me the truth bubs. Is he not treating you right? You shouldn't be dealing with that baby” he said using that nickname you loved, putting his hand on your thigh rubbing it&keeping eye contact while smirking.

Your heart races at seeing him rubbing his thumb over your thighs. His goddamn smirk too.

“He’s ju-” 

You were interrupted mid-sentence by your dad walking into the room.

Logan moved his hand back to himself, grabbing his beer and clearing his throat. Your dad entered the room, with his snacks laid out on a big plate and another six-pack of beer. "Oh, you gonna watch the game with us? I thought Jacob was taking you out." your dad asked settling down the plate and beers in front of the two men’s seats.  

"Uh no sadly not, I'm still going out with Jacob tonight," you said, a hint of irritation in your voice. "So if you guys don't mind me, I need to go get ready. This hair and makeup is not gonna get done by itself." You shot a glance at Logan, his expression unreadable, before quickly exiting the room. 

As you left the room, you swear you felt Logan's eyes on your back piercing right through you as you walked upstairs toward your bedroom. In your bedroom You fixed up your hair a bit and walked back and forth through your closet trying to pick what you were gonna wear but thoughts of Logan’s hand rubbing your thigh just kept invading your mind. The thought of him just alone made you wet. God the affect that man had on you. No matter how much you try to ignore it, more thoughts of him rushed back in and so did questions. Was he jealous? Why did he look disappointed when you mentioned your boyfriend, Jacob? 

You could not let the thought of your dad’s best friend cross your mind anymore, you had to finish getting ready, either way, Jacob told you yesterday to be ready by 4 and time was approaching. You previously made the plan to get fucked tonight, Jacob had to appreciate what he had. You slipped into your mini skirt that matched perfectly with your shirt—sitting at your vanity, applying your everyday makeup. As you moved on to applying a final coat of lipgloss, you heard your phone buzz. You picked it up and felt your stomach drop as you read the message from “jacob <3” 

 "Gotta raincheck tonight I’m not feeling well again, sorry bb" 

He did it once again for the 4th time, yet this time he promised he wouldn’t cancel still yet he did. Anger filled you, you had spent so much time getting ready, just for him to cancel like always. You’re ready for nothing, no plans, no nothing. You were pissed. You began to type up some utter bullshit “oh okay feel better soon love you<33.” 

He quickly replied by liking the message with a thumbs up. 

 Not even a “Love you too” What the fuck, Fuck him, Fuck this Logan was right you shouldn’t be dealing with this. Enough was enough. You were done with his bullshit. Your plan of at least fucking Jacob one more time was not going to happen at all and you needed to get laid lord knows how long it's been. You decided were gonna get some drinks from downstairs and try to forget about Jacob.

As you walked out of your room and down the stairs, scouraging through your dad’s liquor drawer. You heard the voices of your dad and Logan floating through the air, watching the football game. You suddenly had an idea. If Jacob couldn't appreciate you, maybe it was time to play a game with someone else who might appreciate your presence more.

Discarding the drawer you began to walk into the living room walking past your dad and Logan. You could tell Logan was trying hard not to stare at you with that skirt. “oh, is Jacob here?” your dad said.

“No, we’re not going out anymore. He’s not feeling well so I figured I’d just watch the game with you guys” You smiled knowing damn right it was a lie, sitting directly on the couch near Logan. 

Your dad looked over at you with a mix of surprise and a bit of concern on his face. “Really? Everything alright with Jacob?” He asked. Logan seemed to tense up even more as you sat down right next to him, your legs almost touching his. 

“Yeah, he said he’s just gonna stay in and rest up,” you replied as your dad simply nodded in acknowledgment.

 Meanwhile, Your dad's eyes were glued to the screen, not noticing the tension in the room. As the game continued, you tried to act natural, pretending to be interested in the players' moves while secretly glancing at Logan. He stole a few glances your way, his eyes roaming over your short skirt, before quickly looking away. You could feel his gaze burning into you, and you couldn’t help but secretly enjoy the attention. 

As the first half of the game finished and halftime began, your dad got up and announced, "Well, it's halftime. I'm gonna go use the restroom real quick. I'll be right back." He gave you two a quick smile before heading out of the room.

As soon as your dad left the room, the tension in the air thickened. You were suddenly alone with Logan on the couch, the only sound was the faint commentary from the TV.

From what you could tell you saw Logan fiddling with the remote of the television before he said, "This damn remote won't work. I can't hear anything!" 

"Give me it, lemme try," you offered, pointing to the volume control on the TV box.

Slowly, you bent down to turn up the volume trying to put your skirt down a bit, taking your sweet time. "How's that?" you asked, looking directly at Logan for a response.

He swallowed hard as he caught sight of your ass falling out of your mini skirt. His eyes try to balance between the TV and your exposed skin. "Yeah, uh... yeah, that's better," he mumbled, trying to maintain his composure. Once you sat back on the couch, you casually glanced at him and saw him adjusting his jeans and squirming where he was sitting. You couldn't help but smirk as you looked quickly towards the TV, knowing full well the effect you were having on Logan. Your plan working all accordingly.

Your dad came back from the bathroom and, seeing how uneasy and squirmy Logan was looking, asked him, "Logan, you okay buddy?

"Yeah, I'm good," Logan muttered. 

The game resumed, with the atmosphere was heavy. Both of you were distracted; the game was on, but neither of you watched. Your dad was completely oblivious to the tension you both were building.

Logan kept replaying the image of you bent over, eyes staring right at him. His mind soon began to wander to thoughts about only you. He knew the game wouldn’t be over for a while.

Once 20 minutes had passed, Logan had enough and decided to excuse himself to use the restroom.

”I’ll be back gotta use the restroom,” he said while getting up.

“Are you sure? Man, you're gonna miss the game.” your dad asked Logan.

“yeah, it’s fine.” he quickly replied walking by.

You stayed downstairs with your dad to watch the game. Already getting tired of just watching the game, you decided to go to your room and work on some assignments, using it as an excuse. You bid your dad goodnight and told him you might not come down again that night.

"Alright, kiddo," your dad replied. "Goodnight, and don't stay up too late. Oh, and can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Dad. What is it?" you asked.

"Can you knock on the bathroom door and call out to Logan? He's going to miss out on the rest of the game if he doesn't come out soon," your dad replied concerned.

"Yeah, no problem," you smiled assuring your dad.

You made your way up to the bathroom, your footsteps a bit quicker than usual. You knocked gently on the door, but there was no response. 

"Weird," you muttered under your breath. Feeling a mix of curiosity and growing worry, you turned away from the bathroom and headed toward your room instead.

As you entered, your eyes widened in shock and surprise. There, standing before you, was Logan, going through your underwear drawer.

"You perv," you exclaimed, jokingly lightly smacking his shoulder.

He visibly jumped, caught in the act. His face reddened as he frantically tried to come up with an explanition.

"Shit, look, it's not-" he began, his words stumbling over each other in his act to explain.

You cut him off, "Oh, it's exactly what it looks like, Lo.”

He was too stunned to speak.

You crossed your arms, in annoyance, and said, "So you're the reason my panties have been going missing?"

Logan's eyes widened, his guilt evident. He tried to protest, "No, no, look, you don't understand-"

But you interrupted him again, "But I do. I've seen the way you've looked at me, and those sneaky touches on my thighs... I've seen it all, Logan."

Logan's face flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly closed the drawer. He looked at you, the evidence of his actions clear.

"I... I can explain," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

You raised an eyebrow, giving Logan a skeptical look. "Explain then," you said, leaning against the wall, and crossing your arms.

Frustration and lust appeared on Logan's face as he replied, "You know what, no. You teased me all damn night. I deserve this at least. You were trying to get me killed out there.”

“What teasing are you even talking about?” you acted oblivious.

“You realize what you were doing out there is so wrong. Don't try to act all innocent now.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you’re talking about Logan," You started smirking.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about,” Logan growled, his voice low. "You were bending over out there, practically flashing your ass at me. You knew what you were doing, didn’t you? Getting me all hard in front of your old man huh?”

“I was just trying to fix the volume for you.” Still trying to keep the innocent act up.

“Bullshit baby,” he said eying your mini skirt. 

Logan's eyes darkened with desire as he walked closer to you, backing you against the wall. "Don't play dumb. You know exactly the effect you have on me." His voice was low and husky.

"Walking around in these tiny outfits, bending over every chance you get."

As you locked eyes with Logan, your steady gaze holding his, you repeated your question, "And what are you gonna do about it?" You slowly knelt before him, your face now inches away from the button of his jeans. 

Logan's gazed down at you, hand going to caress your chin. He took a step closer to you. "You know what I wanna do, outta teach you a lesson," he said, his voice hoarse with lust.

Within seconds you pulled his pants down, dragging his boxers along with them letting his dick spring freely out. 

"Suck on it." 

Obeying what he said you started coating his cock with your spit. Logan groaned softly as your lips wrapped around his thick shaft, your tongue swirling expertly. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding your head as you bobbed up and down. "Fuck, just like that baby," he breathed, trying to keep his voice low.

“Ah, fuck.” Hearing him moan made you love pleasing Logan with his cock in your mouth. That alone made you soaking wet. 

He grunted as he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, your lips stretched wide around his girth gagging a bit, eyes watering. "Shh, careful now," he whispered urgently, glancing at the door. "We can't make too much noise with your dad right downstairs."

Logan's eyes widened in shock and arousal as you carefully moved your mouth off his throbbing erection, your voice breathy as you said "It's too much, Daddy." He shuddered at the forbidden words, his cock twitching with need even as his mind reeled.

His hands shook as he watched you wipe a strand of your spit off your hand, the sight sending a jolt of desire through him. He quickly glanced at the door again before grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

"Fuck, baby, you can't say that out loud. Not ever."

Gripping on your chin tightened as you wrapped your lips around his hot, hard flesh once more. His voice grew strained as he hissed, "Faster, baby… just like that... Oh God, harder...harder... I'm not gonna last... not with you sucking me off like that..."

Logan's words tumbled out in a desperate, breathless rush as you worked his throbbing cock with your mouth. "This is so wrong... but fuck baby, your mouth feels so good... I can't think straight... shit, I'm not gonna last... oh fuck, I'm gonna..."

His voice rose to a hoarse scream as his orgasm crashed over him, his hips bucking wildly as he fucked your mouth without warning. "Fuckk!" he groaned, his cock pulsing violently as he erupted into your mouth, painting your throat with thick ropes of cum.

He panted, trying to catch his breath as he came down from his high.

"Your dad's gonna kill me," he said shakily, his body still trembling from release. He quickly tucked himself back into his pants before pulling you up into his arms.

[shigarosie]

Match His Energy part three

Kirishima's phone has been ringing nonstop for the past ten minutes.

Finally, after trying to just ignore it and hope the problem goes away, Bakugo throws down his book onto the sofa and heads into the kitchen, bitching about his best friend leaving it behind before meeting up with Tetsutetsu and-

If course it was you who was calling.

He stared at the caller id, debating if he should just let it ring. Eventually you would get the hint, right? But then again, if it was some sort of emergency...

He grabs the phone and swipes to answer, unable to even get out a "what" before you hiccup a sob in his ear.

"I fucking hate men they're so stupid," you cry angrily. "I didn't ask this prick to buy me coffees and shit, but I go out with him to be nice and somehow I owe him an invite back to my place?"

Bakugo's jaw clenches. He doesn't fuck with douchebags like that, who think they're entitled to someone's body.

"And now he's telling people at work that I've been talking about them behind their backs? Like what the fuck?!"

You start sobbing again, more from rage than sadness.

"I'm coming over." He hangs up the phone before you can even process that it wasn't Kirishima you were talking to.

Bakugo didn't really know why he was coming over. He could always text Tetsutetsu and tell him that you need Kirishima to come over for some best friend emergency bullshit. But his feet moved on their own and he was grabbing stuff from the fridge and shoving his feet haphazardly into his shoes before he was out the door and in his car.

You were still crying when you opened the door, but you were definitely confused to see Bakugo outside your apartment.

"What-"

"Kirishima left his phone at home," he says. "You sounded like you were going through some rough shit."

You stare at him, blinking tears away best you could, but a few managed to escape and were making a break for it down your flushed cheeks.

He holds up a tinfoil covered pan. "I brought brownies. Made them last night."

At that, you were letting him in.

He sets the pan on your counter and shoos you off to go sit on your couch, going through your cupboards and your fridge.

You feel awkward, even though you're in your apartment. "I didn't know it was-"

"I know."

He's good at that; shutting you down. For once you're grateful for it.

When he finally leaves the kitchen he has two plates in hand, each with a turtle brownie covered in ice cream and chocolate sauce he sourced from you.

"Comfort food," he grunts, holding one out to you. "Eat."

You don't have to be told twice, you lip beginning to quiver again.

"Report that asshole to hr," he says. "Record any further interactions you have with him. I know a good lawyer if the harassment continues."

You start crying again. Bakugo's eyes go wide- did he say something wrong? He was actually trying to be helpful for once.

"Thank you." Your voice sounds squeezed, like you would say more if you could but the shakiness of of your breathing made it hard. "You know, I wouldn't have expected this from you. You like to pretend like you hate me."

"Who's pretending?" He asks, obviously joking despite his serious tone. "Just needed the phone to stop ringing."

"Well maybe if Kiri didn't leave his phone lying around everywhere-"

"How does he fucking do that? Every morning he leaves for work and then walks back in a minute later. Every morning."

"Clearly he's unreliable," you say, scooping up a pool of chocolate sauce on your spoon. "I'm starting to think I should just call you next time, but I don't have your number. You know, since you hate me and all."

"Yeah, I- um. That would. Shit. Fuck."

"Or I can just keep calling Kiri and hope you pick up?"

His face is pink. It's the first time you've smiled all day.

"Whatever. I guess that's fine."

[elihermit]

lost in the memories

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: after the incident at work where Buck had to rescue you, you ended up in coma and relieved every moment of your relationship with Buck

word count: 2,1k

note from the writer: i’m so excited to finally share my first imagine with you! i’m taking requests 🫧

Breath in and breathe out. That’s what Buck always said when you start panicking and feel anxious. But today this panic was not over missing a deadline for your task at work, it wasn’t something you could easily fix.

You work as a psychologist who helps your patients get through the trauma of the past and find the strength to move on.

The day started as usual: morning kisses and cuddles with Buck, breakfast, I love you's, and you both went to work. But then everything is just blank, you didn't even get a chance to take your first patient or maybe you did? You can’t even remember.

You woke up at your apartment, cuddling your favorite toy, you got it when you were 9 years old and since then — it’s your lucky charm. You look at your screen to check the time — “8am”. Good, you have time to grab the breakfast at your favorite spot.

Brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, put on some makeup and you’re ready to go.

“Good morning, (Y/N)! Let me guess, latte with raspberry syrup and English breakfast?” — it was Alice, the waitress in your favorite spot. You go here almost every day and you truly can say that she became your friend.

“Good morning, Alice! Yes, you know I can’t start my day without you teasing me and my favorite coffee to get through this.” — you can’t help but smile, she really knows how to highlight your day.

“Of course.” — Alice smiled. “How many patients do you have today? I think I need to make you two coffees.” — she remembered when yesterday you had 5 patients and you came back to the cafe to buy one extra coffee. You loved your job, but sometimes it was too much even for your professional head. Poor people, they don’t deserve to live with all of those traumas.

“Yes please. You’re an angel!” — you gave her a grateful look and agreed on her offer.

Now you have 30 minutes to eat your breakfast and the place was so packed, you were lucky to take the table the moment you walked into the cafe.

About halfway through enjoying your breakfast and making your schedule for tomorrow, you heard someone approaching you.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry for disturbing you, but could I please sit with you? There’s no empty table and I think I will actually go nuts if I don’t eat.” — you raise your head and it was the most gorgeous man you have ever laid your eyes on. Pretty blue eyes, brown hair and the body of Greek God. Fuck, you stared too long, gotta answer quickly.

“Of course. I got you, this morning anger because of being hungry is not very cutesy.” — you laughed and pointed at the seat in front of you.

“Oh my god, yes! Thank you so much, my co-workers just got saved from my rudeness by…” — he sat down and didn’t finish his sentence so you could tell him your name.

“I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you. Happy to help, we don’t want to give your co-workers some traumas.” — you chuckled. God, you can’t forget about your work even when you have free time.

“That’s very true.” — he laughed. “I’m Evan, but you can call me Buck.” — the way he smiled… This image definitely won’t leave your head.

Suddenly, everything went dark. It’s like there was only one lamp that shined on your table. Buck started crying. You never heard any man cry like this. So much pain, desperation and suffering. With his head on his hands, you could see how his shoulders trembled with every cry.

He raised his head and looked into your eyes with so much sadness.

“Please, come back to me.”

Darkness. You move your finger. Why can you move ONLY your finger? What’s going on? It doesn’t feel right. You can’t see, you can’t move, you can’t speak and hear. Just darkness.

You open the door. Here he is, in all of his glory. Your partner, your love, your friend and your boyfriend in one person.

“Okay, I got every snack you like, you ready for our movie night?” — there’s a big bag of goods in front of Buck and he’s smiling like The Cheshire Cat.

You smile and pull him into the kiss. The sweetest kiss you have ever had. The best lips you have ever tasted. You already knew it would end up being Netflix & Chill.

“I missed you so much.” — you say into his lips and he gives you one more kiss before leading you to the couch.

You sat on the couch immediately getting trapped in his embrace. You didn’t mind at all. There’s no place in the world where you would rather be.

“Did you pick a movie? It’s your turn today, baby.” — you loved your tradition when at least 2-3 times a week you have movie nights. Last time you watched a movie called… You actually can’t remember, making love to each other sounded better after 15 minutes into the movie.

“Yes.” — he makes you look into his face. “Come back to me.”

Darkness. What the fuck is going on? You can feel you squeeze someone’s hand but you can’t see anything. Is that some kind of dream? More like a nightmare actually. Why are you getting pulled out of the most happiest moments of your life?

Buck. You feel so scared without him, you feel so alone. You want to scream “I’m here!”, but not a single word comes out of your mouth. That must be some kind of horrible joke.

You look into the mirror one more time and notice Buck staring at you with a smile.

“Okay, baby, first of all — you know you can stare and touch.” — you said with a smirk and Buck immediately made his way over you. He put his hands on your waist and yours gently fell on his neck. “Secondly, remind me again why we’re gathering in the middle of the week?”

You took a day off, because Buck was convincing you that no one has any other free day and only today they can all meet up together. Honestly, you loved being at Bobby’s and Athena’s house, especially when everyone was there too. Eddie with Christopher, Hen with Karen, Chim with Maddie. It’s like having a second family and you were grateful that they accepted you and loved you as much as Buck loves you.

“(Y/N), I told you it’s the only day when everyone is actually free.” — he said and kissed you. “And to be honest, I just wanted one more day off for you, you were working your ass off past weeks.”

True. For some reason you took more patients than usual and it was exhausting two weeks. Buck is always worried when you overwork yourself, so you didn’t hesitate long when he asked you to take a day off, you felt like you needed that too.

The evening was going great. Everyone is talking, laughing, dancing and eating. It was the most fun days when you all meet up together and Buck knew you loved it. So when Buck asked everyone to give him a little attention, you giggled, because usually it was the beginning of Buck doing something funny.

“Yeah, I know you all are probably expecting me to do a back flip.” — everyone laughed. “But today is a bit different. Not gonna lie, probably it was the hardest task in my life to keep everything a secret.” — you furrowed your brows, what secret?

But Buck continued.

“(Y/N), can you stand next to me, please?” — you’re confused, but you did what he asked. “My love, I know you’re confused and probably thinking that I had too many drinks. And I might be drunk, but I’m drunk in love. The moment I saw you in that cafe, I knew I couldn’t lose you. Honestly, the waitress said that there will be an empty table in 5 minutes, but I still chose to sit with you. Because how could I not?”

You started to realize. Is he… proposing? The love of your life is proposing to you?

“Buck…” — you could feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Baby, I can’t imagine my life without you and can’t even remember my life before you, that’s how well you filled all the missing pieces. So…” — Buck got on one knee, pulled a pretty little velvet box out of his pocket and asked the most important question that you didn’t even know you needed to hear. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?” — you froze, tears started streaming down your cheeks. All the love you had for Buck just got 10 times stronger.

“Yes!” — you smiled happily and fell on your knees to kiss Buck.

He pulled the ring out of the box, carefully placing it on your finger and looked into your eyes.

“Then please, (Y/N)… Come back to me.”

Darkness. Honestly, you’re getting tired of this. You either died or got trapped in the most fucked up dream. And knowing that you don’t really have dreams, there’s only one option left. Are you actually dying? This can’t be real, right?

In the past 3 years your life has finally fallen into the right places. You met Buck, work was going great, you’re supposed to marry the love of your life… You cannot miss that. “Till death do us apart” doesn’t mean that you have to die so soon. You need to come back!

“My love, I know you probably don’t hear me, but I can’t do it without you.” — you heard the echo in this pitch blackness. It was Buck. “We had so much ahead of us, do you remember? We wanted to buy the house, I wanted to surprise you with the best honeymoon, we wanted to start trying on our own bab-“ — his voice broke, you heard sobs.

Your breathing has become heavier. You could feel your chest rising. Can you just open your eyes? You can’t leave Buck like this, you can’t leave your new family. You need to come back, you had so much ahead of you. Wedding, kids, travels, joy, being a wife and mother.

You heard another echo.

“Please, baby, just please come back to me…”

NOW! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!

You could feel your eyes trembling. Darkness was replaced by white light. Heaven? There is definitely no smell of medicines in heaven.

Slowly, you open your eyes. So slow that it doesn't scare away reality.

The first image you see when you open your eyes and move your head to your right is Buck. He squeezes your hand with his head almost on the hospital bed. He’s still sobbing. It broke your heart into a million pieces. He didn’t deserve to go through this.

“Buck…” — you whisper. You can’t talk any louder, because your mouth is so dry. But he heard you.

Buck raised his head and met your eyes. You’re awake. You’re actually awake. One moment he was in hell, now he’s praising God for bringing you back.

“You came back…” — he smiled with his puffy eyes.

“How could I not? I heard you wanted me back at least four times.” — you chuckled tiredly, making jokes was your defense mechanism against difficulties.

“I thought I lost you, these 4 days were the hardest time of my entire life…” — he wanted to continue, but you interrupted him.

“4 days? W-what happened?” — you couldn’t believe it, you were out for 4 days.

“The building where you work collapsed. There was a mistake made when designing the building and it just fucking collapsed. I found you under the concrete slabs.”

Of course he was the one who rescued you. Your hero. On one hand you were happy that it’s him who saved you, but on the other he probably blames himself for not doing more, for not providing the proper safety. But let’s be honest, he did everything he could and you’re so grateful for that.

“Thank you for saving me.” — tears falling down your cheeks and you’re just happy to be back to him. To your lifeline.

He didn’t say anything, just got up and placed the most gentle kiss on your lips. Almost like he was afraid he could break you and you would vanish, that’s why you placed your hand on his cheek as a confirmation that you’re really here with him.

“So, what’s the best honeymoon you wanted to surprise me with?” — you said into his lips.

“You really heard everything?” — he asked confusedly, you giggled and kissed him once more.

Time to make more memories together.

[rootedinrevisions]

Enough for You: Part 2

SUMMARY: After deciding you need time away, you ask Tyler for some space to process everything. During your absence, Tyler finds himself constantly thinking about you, realizing how much he misses your presence and what you mean to him. Struggling with how to approach the situation, Tyler begins sending you small, thoughtful gifts, hoping to keep some connection alive while respecting your need for time. Each gift carries a subtle message, his way of reminding you of his feelings without overstepping. Finally, unable to stay away any longer, Tyler shows up at your door, ready to talk and confront the growing emotions between you both.

WARNINGS: More Angst. (with a little fluff)

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

OTHER PARTS: PART 1

NOTE: There will be a PART 3! I have it mostly written and just need to finish editing it. Part 2 got away from me so I decided to break it up as to not have one crazy long fic.

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @callsign-diva I @starshinegrl I @willowpains I @beltzboys2015-blog

The team gathered around the RV, tension simmering beneath the surface. Things hadn't been the same since Kate joined, and you could feel the shift in every quiet conversation, every glance that Tyler cast in her direction. After the last storm chase, when Tyler sat next to you and apologized for breaking your heart, you knew it was time to make a decision. You couldn’t stay—not with the constant reminders of everything you wished for but couldn’t have.

After a sleepless night, you made your decision. You requested a leave of absence from the team—just two weeks to get your mind straight, to figure out if you could stay and watch Tyler build a life with someone else. When you approached Tyler, he looked at you with a mix of regret and reluctance, clearly not wanting you to go but knowing he had no right to stop you.

“I need time,” you said softly, your voice steady but your heart anything but. “I just…I need to clear my head, and figure out what’s next for me.”

Tyler's eyes searched yours, his jaw tightening as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. “If that’s what you need,” he said quietly, “I won’t stop you. But…I’m gonna miss you around here.”

You nodded, knowing he meant it, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough, not when he had already chosen someone else. “I’ll be back in two weeks,” you told him, and without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, feeling the weight of his gaze on your back.

Tyler stepped into the familiar café, the warm smell of espresso and freshly baked pastries hitting him as he waited in line. He pulled out his phone, scrolling absently through messages and notifications, his mind elsewhere. You’d been gone for three days now—three long, silent days. The truck was quieter without your voice, without your little side comments or the music you always played to keep everyone’s spirits up during long chases.

Dexter had grabbed his coffee the first morning you were gone. He hadn’t even noticed at first—it wasn’t quite right, but he’d brushed it off. Just a small thing, nothing major. Today, though, as he stood in line, he realized he didn’t even know what he wanted. You always got his order just right without him even having to ask.

The barista behind the counter smiled at him, her pen poised over the notepad. “What can I get for you?”

Tyler opened his mouth, then paused. Was it a double shot of espresso or a single? Did he like anything else added to it? God, how had he never paid attention to this before?

“Uh…” he hesitated, trying to piece it together. “Just a regular coffee, I guess. With…sugar?”

The barista gave him a polite nod, but he could tell she was already moving on, another nameless face in the line of customers. He sighed as he handed her his card, feeling oddly unsettled by the whole interaction. Black coffee wasn’t right—he knew that much. He’d drink it, but it wouldn’t be what he actually wanted. Just another thing that wasn’t right anymore.

As he took the cup and left the café, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling. It wasn’t the coffee that was bothering him. It was the fact that you weren’t there to get it right for him, to know the little things he hadn’t even realized mattered. It hit him, harder than he expected. He’d taken you for granted—your presence, your attention to detail, the way you just knew him in ways no one else ever did. And now, with you gone, he felt the emptiness in every small part of his day.

Tyler climbed back into his truck, setting the coffee in the cup holder without touching it. He sat there for a moment, staring at it, the silence around him feeling heavier than it ever had before. You weren’t there, and for the first time, he was starting to realize how much it bothered him.

The truck rumbled down the highway, the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Boone was riding shotgun, his hand casually scrolling through his phone as he played DJ for the drive. Tyler had barely noticed at first, too focused on the darkening sky ahead, but as the third song in a row played, something nagged at him.

It wasn’t that Boone had bad taste in music—he didn’t. It was just that none of these songs hit quite right. The rhythm was off, the mood wasn’t there, and Tyler felt an uncomfortable itch in the back of his mind, like something was missing.

The music was background noise, sure, but when you were the one picking the playlist, it had never felt like just noise. Somehow, you always knew exactly what to play. Whether it was an old classic rock song he loved or something new that perfectly matched the mood, every song you chose seemed to be one of his favorites. It was uncanny, really, how well you knew him.

Boone scrolled through another song, switching it halfway through. Tyler’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the silence between songs suddenly feeling heavier.

“Everything good, man?” Boone asked, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” Tyler muttered, though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. He didn’t say anything, but inside, his thoughts were racing. How had he never noticed before? All those times you were riding beside him, picking the perfect song, knowing his favorite tracks better than anyone else… It was like you could read his mind. Or maybe it was something else—something deeper.

Boone finally settled on another song, some alt-rock tune Tyler didn’t recognize, and the sound filled the cab again. But it didn’t feel right. None of it did. The whole drive felt off without you there beside him, smiling softly as you hummed along to the music, your eyes flicking over to him when a particularly good song came on.

Tyler’s chest tightened. You’d always been there, quietly in tune with him, noticing things no one else did. It was in the way you picked the songs, the way you knew when he needed silence, or when to play something loud to get his energy up before a storm. It was in the little things, all the details he hadn’t appreciated before.

How had he been so blind?

He thought about you now, at home, away from the team, from him. He thought about all those moments—so many little things that added up to something big, something he hadn’t let himself see. The music was just one piece of it, but now that he was noticing, he couldn’t stop. The playlist had always been yours, just like so many other parts of his life.

Boone’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You good with this song?”

Tyler blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah,” he said, though the truth was, no, he wasn’t. Not at all.

He missed you. And for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure what to do.

Tyler's hand hovered over his phone, thumb tracing the edge of the screen as the truck rumbled beneath him. They were pulling off to the side of the road, another quick pit stop before the storm hit. The others were already filing out of the truck, stretching and talking about what was ahead as they made their way into the gas station for drinks and snacks. But Tyler’s mind wasn’t on the storm, or the chase, or even the team. It was on you.

He should call. He needed to call. He could feel the weight of your absence settling deeper with every passing mile, every quiet moment that used to be filled by your voice or your laugh. The last few days had been hell without you. Coffee tasted wrong, the music sounded off, and for the life of him, he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in his chest.

His finger hovered over your name in his contacts, but then it hit him, hard, like a punch straight to the gut: those words you said to him before you left. “I just want to go back to before. Before I met you. Before I let myself believe that there was a chance.”

He closed his eyes, the memory slamming into him with full force. The look on your face, the tremble in your voice—God, how had he let it get to that point? How had he been so blind, so caught up in everything else that he never noticed the way you felt, the way you saw him? All those moments, all those signs, and he missed every single one of them.

The phone slipped from his hand and landed on the seat beside him with a dull thud. His chest tightened, shame twisting deep in his gut. You’d believed there was a chance. And he’d taken that hope and crushed it. He’d hurt you, someone who’d always been there for him, always knew what he needed before he even asked. You’d been everything.And all he did was break you. And he hadn’t been able to see it until now.

Tyler’s jaw clenched as he stared down at his phone. He could call you, tell you he missed you. He could apologize, say all the things he should have said before. But would it even matter? You were done with him. He could still hear it in your voice when you walked away—how tired you sounded. How heartbroken. He’d made you feel like you weren’t enough, and the truth was, you were more than enough. You’d always been more than enough.

He was the one who didn’t deserve you. He was the one who wasn’t enough for you.

His hand curled into a fist, the phone still lying untouched beside him. He’d been blind, selfish, wrapped up in his own world while you quietly slipped through his fingers. The thought of you never answering his call, of you moving on without him, stung like hell. But why would you answer? After everything he’d done—or failed to do—why would you want anything to do with him?

He let out a breath, heavy and shaky, feeling the full weight of his regret pressing down on him. He didn’t deserve you. Not after what he’d done. Not after how blind he’d been to how much you’d cared.

Later that night, Tyler sat on the edge of his bed, the quiet of his room pressing in on him. The team had settled in at the small motel, the storm still hours away from reaching them. Normally, nights like these were his favorite—calm before the chaos, time to relax before the adrenaline kicked in. But tonight, there was no calm. Just the heavy weight of everything he’d been trying to ignore since you left.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tugging open his duffel bag to pull out a pair of sweatpants. But as he reached for them, his hand brushed against something solid at the bottom of the bag. Frowning, he pushed aside his clothes until his fingers closed around a book—a book he hadn’t touched in weeks.

He stared down at the cover, his heart giving a sharp twist. The Self-Help Guide to Letting Go of the Past. He had forgotten all about it, shoved in the bottom of his bag after he’d lent it to you. You’d asked for it just last week, something about being curious, but at the time, it hadn’t made much sense to him. You’d never been into these kinds of books before.

Tyler’s thumb traced the worn edges of the cover as the memory of that conversation came rushing back. You’d caught him in the middle of a busy day, the two of you sitting in the RV while the rest of the team was setting up for the next chase. You’d looked almost nervous when you asked if you could borrow it, your voice light, like you were trying to keep things casual. He hadn’t thought much of it then, just handed it over without a second thought, teasing you a little about branching out into self-help.

But now, it hit him all at once. You hadn’t wanted the book. You hadn’t been interested in the advice it had to offer. You’d been looking for something—anything—to connect with him, to spark a conversation, to get his attention. It was just another one of those small things you did that he never took the time to understand.

His chest tightened painfully as he stared at the book, the realization settling over him like a weight he couldn’t shake. You’d been trying to reach out, to bridge the gap between you two, even when he was too blind to notice. And now you were gone. You’d given up, walked away, and he couldn’t blame you. How could he, when he’d been so clueless?

His breath came out in a heavy exhale as he tossed the book onto the bed, running a hand down his face. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have missed all these little moments that showed just how much you cared? The music, the coffee, the book—none of it had seemed like much at the time. But now, with you gone, they all felt like pieces of a puzzle that he hadn’t bothered to put together until it was too late.

He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on the book lying open beside him. He thought about calling you again, his phone sitting within reach on the nightstand, but the same thoughts stopped him cold. You wouldn’t answer. Why would you? You were done trying to make things work with him. And after everything, he couldn’t blame you for that either.

Tyler’s hand curled into a fist, his frustration building. He wanted to fix this, wanted to make things right, but how could he, when he’d already let you down so badly? He’d missed his chance, and the thought of that—of losing you for good—made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t felt before.

The next morning, Tyler sat on the tailgate of his truck, absently sipping his coffee as the team went about their business. They were prepping for the day’s chase, double-checking equipment and reviewing the radar. Normally, he’d be in the thick of it, but his mind kept drifting, pulled in a direction he wasn’t ready to face.

Lily wandered over, her brow furrowed slightly as she eyed him. "You okay, Ty? You seem…distracted."

He shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee—too sweet, as usual. "Just got a lot on my mind."

Lily gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying it. She leaned against the truck beside him, crossing her arms. "You know, it’s kind of weird. Things have been off since she left. I mean, I knew she did a lot for the team, but…it’s more than that."

Tyler’s grip tightened around the cup, his jaw clenching. He didn’t need the reminder. Every day since you’d been gone, things felt off. The coffee wasn’t right, the music wasn’t right, hell, he wasn’t right. But he couldn’t put it into words—not without admitting what he’d been too stubborn to face.

Lily didn’t stop there. "She always knew what you liked, what you needed—even when you didn’t say it. You might not have noticed, but the rest of us did." She paused, giving him a sidelong glance. "It’s kind of strange not having her around. Things just don’t…flow like they used to."

Tyler said nothing, his mind racing as he took in her words. He hadn’t noticed how much you’d paid attention to him, all the little details you got right. But now that you were gone, it was painfully obvious. The realization gnawed at him, twisting the knot in his stomach even tighter.

Before he could respond, Boone approached, his usual easygoing smile replaced with a more serious expression. "Tyler, can I ask you something?"

Tyler nodded, relieved for the distraction—until Boone’s next words hit him like a punch.

"What’s the deal with you and Kate?"

Tyler blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

Boone raised an eyebrow. "Come on, man. It’s obvious something’s up. The way she’s been hanging around you, and now that…" He trailed off, his gaze flicking to the side. "Look, everyone’s been wondering."

Tyler let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation—but the question hung in the air like an anchor, forcing him to confront what he’d been avoiding. "Kate and I… it’s just business. We work well together, but that’s it. She’s brilliant and could really be changing the game with this theory. I care about her, sure, but she’s not…"

He stopped, his words catching in his throat. But what? He didn’t know how to finish that sentence because the truth was sitting right there in front of him, and it was something he hadn’t wanted to face.

Boone’s gaze softened. "She’s not what, Ty? What’s going on?"

Tyler swallowed hard, the words heavy in his chest. "Kate’s not her," he finally admitted, his voice low, almost as if he didn’t want to say it out loud. "The one I pushed away."

Boone nodded, his expression knowing. "You mean… her."

Tyler didn’t need to say your name. It was clear who they were talking about. He nodded, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold back the flood of emotions. "I messed up, Boone. She was always there, always…paying attention to everything, and I was too blind to see it. Now she’s gone, and I don’t think she wants anything to do with me."

Boone sighed, leaning back against the truck. "You know, Ty, you’re not the first guy to mess up. But you don’t have to be the guy who keeps messing up. If you care about her, you need to talk to her. And not through some half-assed text message or phone call."

Tyler glanced up, confused. "Then what do I do?"

Boone smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You have to show her. Show her that she means something to you. It has to come from the heart. Do something that proves you see her, that you care, and that you’re willing to make it right."

Tyler let Boone’s words sink in, the weight of it settling over him. He knew he’d messed up—badly—and now he wasn’t sure how to fix it. But the idea of showing you how much he cared, of putting action behind the words he’d never said… it was the first thing that made sense in days.

But could he do it? Could he find the courage to face you after everything, after knowing that he was the one who made you feel like you were nothing more than an afterthought?

Tyler stared down at his cup, the taste bitter on his tongue. He had to try. He had to show you that you weren’t just another person in his life. You were the one person he couldn’t stop thinking about, the one he never should’ve let go.

Tyler stood in the parking lot of a gas station, his phone in hand as he stared at the DoorDash app. He’d scrolled through countless options, debating whether to go with something safe like pizza or take a risk. In the end, he decided on the riskier of the two options

He remembered how often you talked about that Chinese takeout place near your apartment, the one you always craved after long days. You’d even convinced him to try it once, and he’d never forgotten the way your eyes lit up when the food arrived. The memory was clearer than he expected, and now, standing alone in a parking lot, he wondered how he’d managed to let someone who knew him so well slip through his fingers.

He couldn’t remember your order. But he remembered that it was something with chicken. He used the pictures on the app and his memory to narrow it down to the dish he thought it was that you liked. With a deep breath, Tyler hit 'order' and added a note for the driver to leave the takeout at your door with a message: "For the long days. I know you love this place. —Tyler."

He hesitated before sending it, wondering if you’d even accept the delivery. Maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d throw the food out without a second thought. But a part of him hoped that you’d understand what he was trying to say—that this was his first step toward making things right.

You sat on the couch, the remnants of the Chinese takeout scattered across the coffee table in front of you. The familiar flavors had been a comfort, even if you were reluctant to admit it. When you first saw the delivery bag at your door, your heart had skipped a beat, reading the note that was attached.

For a moment, you’d considered ignoring it—pushing it away like you’d been trying to push away the thoughts of him. But after a long day, it felt easier to accept the gesture, at least for what it was: food. Nothing more.

Now, sitting here with your phone in your hand, you debated whether or not to send a message. It wasn’t like you owed him anything, but the gesture had been thoughtful in its simplicity. And a small part of you knew he wasn’t doing it to get something in return—at least, you hoped that wasn’t the case.

Finally, you typed out a quick message: "Thanks for the food. It was good."

You stared at the screen for a moment, your finger hovering over the send button. It wasn’t deep. It wasn’t emotional. It was just an acknowledgment. Before you could overthink it, you hit send.

A few seconds passed, and you saw the notification that the message had been delivered. No reply came immediately, and you didn’t expect one. After all, it wasn’t like this was going to fix things between the two of you. But somehow, sending that simple thank you felt like a tiny weight off your chest, even if it barely scratched the surface of the bigger mess you were still sorting through.

The next morning, Tyler paced around his room, racking his brain for the next move. The takeout had been a start, but he needed to do more. He needed to show you that he hadn’t forgotten the details, even if he’d been too blind to see them before. 

His eyes landed on his phone again, this time opening a florist app. He wasn’t going to send roses. You hated roses. You’d said they were too cliché, something people picked when they didn’t really know the person. He wanted to send something that mattered.

Blue. Your favorite color. You’d mentioned it a few times, and while he didn’t know which flower you loved most, he figured blue would be a safe bet.

He scrolled through the bouquets until he found one that seemed perfect—a mix of blue hydrangeas, forget-me-nots, and white lilies. Simple, beautiful, and meaningful.

When he hit send, his heart pounded. It felt like such a small thing, but at the same time, it felt monumental. He was trying to show you that he was paying attention, that he knew you better than he’d let on.

The knock on the door was unexpected, especially after the Chinese takeout from yesterday. You weren’t sure what to expect this time, but as you opened the door and saw the delivery man holding a bouquet of blue flowers, your heart stuttered.

You took the bouquet, your eyes scanning the shades of blue nestled together in the arrangement. There were no roses—just as you’d once mentioned in passing. Instead, there were lilies, hydrangeas, and forget-me-nots. It was simple but thoughtful. He remembered.

As you set the bouquet on the kitchen counter, you caught sight of a small card tucked between the flowers.

“Not roses, just like you said. I hope you like these instead. –Tyler”

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you traced your fingers over the petals. For the first time since leaving the team, something stirred inside you—a mix of gratitude and maybe even the smallest bit of fondness. The forget-me-nots, in particular, caught your attention. They’d always been your favorite, and though you weren’t sure if he knew that or if it was just a lucky coincidence, it felt... special.

You sat down, flowers still in view, and grabbed your phone. Again, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. But the flowers were different. They meant something more. He’d thought about this.

After a moment, you started typing: “The forget-me-nots are my favorite, by the way. For future reference…”

You hit send, and for a moment, you almost regretted it. Was that too much? But then you shook your head. No, it was just a small hint. A little crack in the wall you’d built. You weren’t letting him back in, but... you weren’t completely pushing him away either.

When your phone buzzed a few seconds later with a reply, you almost didn’t want to look. But curiosity got the best of you.

“Noted.”

It was simple, just like your message had been. But there was something in that word—Noted—that made you think maybe, just maybe, Tyler was trying to show that he wasn’t giving up. At least, not yet.

The sound of the doorbell jolted you from your thoughts. Another delivery? You stood up, your heart sinking slightly, bracing yourself for yet another gesture you weren’t sure how to interpret. When you opened the door, though, it wasn’t another delivery person—it was Tyler.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen. Tyler was at your doorstep, looking both determined and vulnerable. He glanced at you, his eyes searching for something, maybe a hint of how you were feeling.

“Hi,” he said softly, as if unsure of how to begin.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting from the floor to your eyes. “I know this is probably the last thing you expected, and I know I don’t really have the right to be here. But I needed to see you.”

You stepped aside to let him in, your heart pounding. Tyler walked into the room, glancing around as if trying to take it all in.

“I want to start by saying that I’m truly sorry,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “Not just for leaving like I did, but for not seeing how much I hurt you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and it’s clear that I messed up.”

You watched him, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. Tyler ran a hand through his hair, looking both pained and determined. “You know, I’ve been trying to adjust to how things are now, and I’ve realized just how much I miss you. Like, seriously. Boone’s music choices have been driving me nuts. It’s not even that he’s got bad taste, but I keep thinking about how you always knew exactly what songs I liked. And then there was the coffee—Dexter tried to get it for me, and it was all wrong. You always knew how I liked it. It’s the little things that I miss the most.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

Tyler noticed and seemed to take a breath of relief. “And Kate… she’s a great person, but she’s just a professional colleague. I got caught up in this idea we were working on, and I was so intrigued that I didn’t see how it was affecting you. I should have never left the team like that. I’m sorry for that, too.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of hope and desperation. “But the real reason I’m here is because I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve had time to think about what I want, and it’s you. I love you. I love how you’re always there for me, how you know my favorite songs, how you care about the little things. I love your smile, your laugh, and even how you get annoyed with me sometimes. I’ve realized all the ways you’ve shown me that you care, and I’ve been blind to it.”

A heavy silence fell between you. Tyler’s eyes were pleading as he awaited your response. When one didn’t come after several moments he sighed. His shoulders tensed, and he began to fidget, anxiety evident in his movements. “Maybe I’ve messed this up. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I should probably just—”

Before he could finish, you stepped closer, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Don’t,” you said softly. “I’ve waited a long time for you to say something like this. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

A smile of pure relief and happiness spread across Tyler’s face. He pulled you into a tender embrace, his lips finding yours in a kiss that spoke of all the words unspoken, all the emotions unexpressed. It was a kiss full of apologies, regrets, and hope for the future.

When you finally pulled back, you looked up at him, a sense of calm settling over you. “I love you,” you whispered.

Tyler’s eyes softened as he nodded, holding you close. “I love you,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath. He then leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in another kiss.

As your lips finally part, the soft hum of shared breath fills the space between you. Tyler’s forehead rests gently against yours, both of you lingering in that quiet, electric moment. You’re still standing close to the door, the rush of the kiss slowly giving way to a deeper warmth—something steady and grounding. His thumb brushes along your cheek, his gaze locked on yours as though he’s memorizing every detail of this moment.

You both stand there for a beat longer, neither in a hurry to move or speak. But then, Tyler’s eyes drift past you, landing on the bouquet of blue flowers in the vase on the kitchen counter. His lips curl into a smile, a playful glint flickering in his eyes.

“I see the flowers made the cut,” he teases, his voice soft but with that familiar hint of humor. He steps back just enough to point toward them. “Did I do okay?”

You glance over your shoulder at the flowers and then back at him with a smile. “You did more than okay,” you say warmly. “But I think I still owe you a proper thank you.”

His brows arch in interest. “A proper thank you, huh?”

Before he can respond, you reach up, pulling him back down into another kiss, this one slower, more certain, like you’re sealing the promise of something new between you.

[kombuuuu]

hii i really enjoyed ur miles 42 fic, was wondering if u could write something about reader and miles meeting for the first time? who was interested first🤭?

For the Soul (and the Heart)

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, i’d say”. “Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

AHHH meet cute x simpy miles we LOVE

Miles getting comfy w reader and reader getting progressively more combative the more time they spend together bc they luvvvvvvv each other? perfection

please don’t read if you get uncomfy with suggestive content, nothing too bad but still suggestive!

The morning was still. An odd occurrence for a Saturday. The winter chill had settled the night prior and seeped into ever cracked windowsill.

Streets coating in a thin layer of snow and trees dusted with the same. And acknowledging this freezing weather, obviously you decided to go for a walk. Snow crunched under your feet as you followed street signs, the only thing telling you where you were going was which street looked prettier.

Eventually you stopped, hugging your scarf closer to your nose and looking for a stall or shop that caught your eye.

Eventually it did, a quaint cafe stationed between two clothing stores, relatively small and pretty empty. The outside was decorated with white Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers, flower beds filled with the pretty things. Contrasting to the deep Mahogany of the wooden shop. Which looking into the wide window, seemed relatively the same. Deep furniture with white accents and a soft yellow light dancing along shiny hardwood floors.

Swirling cursive words cut into the wooden headboard swinging from a chain outside the door. “Morales Coffee.”

There looked to be seven or eight people in there currently, for how inconspicuous it tried to look, the amount of patrons at such an odd time (10:42 AM, not morning but not afternoon either.), You’d assume that coffee has to be amazing.

The door bell chimed sweetly at your entry, Barista turning to greet you.

The sweet woman gleamed over at you for a moment, turning back to her current customer while he pulled out his wallet. You lined up, looking at the pastries lining the glass displays. The ones catching your eye a Raspberry Danish and a cute baby blue Lunch-Box cake.

The man had moved away, leaving it your turn to order. The woman smiled at you and for once, approaching someone in costumer service didn’t feel as scary as it should’ve.

“Hi, What can I get for you today?” The curly haired woman had a twang of an accent curving her words. And a motherly vibe about her.

“Hey,” You smiled back at her “,Could I get a regular Mocha—.” You paused to let her punch it in. “.—A raspberry Danish and your blue cake.”

You pointed vaguely towards where the blue cake would be to her side of the display. “Yes, of course! That’ll be $18.40, thank you.”

Whilst you pulled out your purse to pay and she began to retrieve the items. She spoke up again. “Someone’s birthday?”

You laughed, not expecting her to speak so suddenly.

“Oh, no!” A chuckle left your lungs “Just want some cake recently. Saw your shop and its cakes. Thought may as well get it while i’m here.”

She laughed along with you, snorting a little as she boxed the small cake in the cardboard lunchbox. “Seems reasonable.”

“Thank you.”

She grabbed your danish and placed it on the counter, putting the cake in a bag and handing it to you.

“Thank you, again.”

“No worries, your mocha will be out shortly!” The bouncy lady turned around, going close to the back of the counter and opened a door you hadn’t realised was there, talking into it.

“Bebé, hay una chica linda ahí afuera que quiere un Mocha. Ve a hacerlo para ella. Y no la riegues.”

"Baby, there's a cute girl out there who wants a Mocha. Go do it for her. And don't mess it up."

Miles glanced up in confusion.

“¿Pero porqué me dices a mi?”

“Why me?”

“Pues es linda, y parece de tu edad.”

“She’s pretty, and around your age.”

“Ma, porfavor.”

“Ma, please.”

“Go.”

“Fine, fine.” He raised his hands in defeat and Rio kissed his cheek on the way out.

You found a seat with a cute view of the street outside and waited patiently for your coffee, people watching to pass time.

There was always a fear of crime in your neighbourhood. The lack of supposed ‘good guys’ coupled with the city being run down by anyone who wanted to escape trouble. Once news broke out of the first robbery in Brooklyn, where no one was caught. It was immediately put on the radar for any criminal looking to live somewhere safe.

The Prowler had been changing that. Little by little the Panther-esc.. Anti-Villain was scraping through the streets of Brooklyn and letting his blood stained claws drag over those in his way.

People feared him, the violence he brought with him.

You thought he was the closest thing to a hero you were getting, so who’s got room to complain?

If he’s not going to do the dirty work, who will?

The chatter of other people in the cafe had gotten slightly louder, four more people walking in while you sat.

“Miles, la chica linda de ahí.”

“Miles, That sweet girl over there.”

“Sí mamá, ya sé.”

“Yeah mama, I know.”

The smooth baritones accent of a boy around your age caught your attention. The way his letters curled giving you a rush of something down your spine. You looked up when you heard feet approaching, seeing probably the most ridiculously handsome man you have ever met bring you your coffee.

The way his jawline sharpened at a point, braids lying on his shoulders just below it. His lips that seemed awfully soft for someone who probably doesn’t even know what chapstick is. Lashes fluttering prettily over his high genes cheekbones, accenting his golden eyes. Jesus christ he’s pretty. His lips curled into a smirk at your face, your doe’d eyes gleaming up at him. He had some sharp canines.

“‘S one’s yours, Miss.” He placed the steaming mug on your table and you smiled. “Thank you!”

“No worries, Hermosa.” He looked at you a moment longer before the sweet lady called him back to make another order.

“Coming, Momma.” He called back to her, turning back to you for a second time and adding.

“I’m Miles, by the way.”

“Miles.. that’s a cute name.”

His lips upturned again at the compliment.

You gave him your name, which he hummed at, repeating it and rolling it around his tongue. His accent was gorgeous.

“Hope to see you ‘round, [Name].”

You choked out a pathetic affirmation, “Mhmma.— Yeah, yep.”

He laughed lightly and dragged his fingers along the table as he left.

Like claws.

—

Two days later you were back. It was some of the best coffee you’d ever had. And the desserts were the same, most of the cake still sitting boxed in the fridge.

Also there was an added bonus, being the coffee house owner, and her son.

The boy was interesting enough to keep your attention, sweet to you but held a sort of curiosity about him. Like he was hiding something but felt no shame in doing it, that it was righteously excused.

And to be real, you were dying to hear his voice again. Two days and all that had been playing in your head was the way he’d said your name, let the word travel down to his lungs and breathed life into it. A longing into it.

Miles was about the same, probably worse.

You saying his name was cute was probably his new lifeline. The way you had said it so innocently, sweetly to the likes of him. A twisted, wretched man. You had him swooning faster than he deemed safe, his body was going into overdrive. He had watched you while in their cafe, having never met someone so.. untainted by the world. Someone so sweet who carried nothing but a childlike innocence in their curios nature. Nothing done out of bad faith or in vain. You were nothing like him, he adored that.

So when you came wandering back into his Mommas cafe, he hoped to every universe it would be something you didn’t stop doing.

“Ah! Miss, You’re back!” His Ma greeted her, watching as the girl told Rio her name, and his Mom in return.

You guys chatted idly for a moment, your expressions clear as day. He could read you like a grown man could read a picture book, so easy it would be insulting to present him with it, if the content wasn’t you. The brightness and easy nature of you was something refreshing, he would say his Momma was easy-going, but times had been hard lately and his family needed a cheering up. You seemed like the perfect candidate.

Sweet, bubbly and looking at him right now- Oh. He waved at you, shivering at the eye contact and watching as you smiled at him and waved back, hands shaking. He likes how nervous he makes you.

You sniffled a little from the cold, dripping your hand as his Mom room your attention again. She handed you a cinnamon scroll and you paid quickly, dropping twenty bucks in the tip jar and quickly finding your way back to your seat.

“Miles! Un Mocha regular porfavor.”“Miles, regular Mocha please.”

He nodded to his mom, like he hadn’t remembered from last time. Like he hasn’t watched as you enjoyed something he made you.

—

“Bienvenida de nuevo, Chiquita.”“Welcome back, Chiquita.”

Sitting in the same spot as last time, staring at the idling passer-by’s, the light of a Winter morning danced off the snowy ground and highlighted your face, leaving a soft glow in your eyes.

You turned to him, paying him your whole mind.

“Thank you, Miles.” He placed your coffee in front of you, slightly leaning over you. He raised his eyebrows and hummed. You inhaled quickly, breath caught in your throat. Now realising the proximity between the two of you. Not only that, but there was a sweet smell that followed him around, coffee and cinnamon. How fitting.

His voice had gone deeper, smoother.

“I’m glad to see you back here—,” He leaned back again, hand dragging the same way it had two days prior. Your slow blink and parted lips made a deep rooted part of him begin to blossom once more.

He wanted to protect you the way he knew no one else could, wanted to lay his Soul down for you. Let you trace the veins imbedded in his skin with your teeth and take as much from him as you could. Run him dry, let him owe you his life so he can die protecting yours.

The speed his infatuation was growing probably wasn’t healthy.

“Really?” Your sweet, breathless inquiry silenced that though.

“Of course, Mami.”

“I—,” You paused, picking at you fingernails for a moment “,—I like it here, a lot.”

You leaned a little forward in your seat. Pressing your forearms against the wooden tabletop and leaning on them. He watched your back drop into a small arch, and for his own health, decided to ignore it. “‘S very cozy.” You glanced towards the window again. Watching another lad and her dog pass. He watched you.

“Mm, it is.”

“And you’re here.”

He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your gaze flickered to him once more and he held it.

He let his hand drift to your shoulder, rubbing it slowly while he peeled himself away from the table.

“I gotta go, Mami, but enjoy your time.”

“You too, Miles.”

“I’ll be working,” He smiled at you, a small thing.

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, I’d say.”

He hummed.

“Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

—

It had been around four Months since Miles had met you. And he was in over his damn head, not that he wasn’t at your first meeting. But progressively, over time, he’d fallen deeper and deeper for you.

Everything you did had him in a chokehold. The way you were so sweet with his Mom, or how even uncle Aaron liked you when he’d stopped by the cafe.

How you offered to help around with no pay, generosity basically leaking from your heart. When you would come over just to see him because you “missed his voice”.

Or would sit in his room and wait for him. If he ever came home late, injured from things you had no business knowing, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You stayed quiet, and patched him up. Let him rest his head on your collarbone while you softly rubbed his shoulders. Trying to lighten the weight of the world off of them.

Every little thing.

He was done pretending like it didn’t affect him. He could barely go a single day without you on his mind constantly, as if.

He knew you felt the same.

Still just as readable as your first meeting. He knew the frequent outings between the two of you were more than just friendly meet-ups to you. To him.

And when your gazes would catch one another, he’d try and tell you. Express without so much as a word how you were the only person he could do this with. The only one he felt comfortable to walk down the street with, and let you chat his ear off about any new movies you’d seen, books you’d have read.

He would let you sleep in his bed, bring little things into his room and give the bland walls life.

You had made a home in him. Cracked chips in his walls on by one until you’d found a single loose stone and happily let everything he’d built up fall just for you.

—

Miles had texted you around mid-day that he’d wanted to see you, in which you’d giggled at your phone dreamily.

Laying on your bed with your stomach down, kicking your legs like a girl gone stupid.

It hadn’t even been much to fret over, just a simple:

Can you come over later?

He had phrased it rather questioningly, but for no good reason. He’d known full well the moment he even insinuated you being with him, you’d jump at the chance.

And you did, swiftly replying;

okayyyy !!

I’ll pick you up at 7.

six…?

7, [Name].

>:(

Don’t be childish.

i’m nvr childish, see u at 6 C:

You got up, threw your phone somewhere on the bed and checked your, admittedly already-packed, overnight bag. Making sure nothing was missing before putting it at your door.

Your phone pinged again.

See you at six.

You smiled.

You spent the rest of that afternoon anxiously waiting for him to pick you up.

—

He showed up at your door five minutes late, greeting you at the door with a soft apology about the tardiness.

“Sorry, Mami. Took a wrong turn.”

“Don’t apologise, Miles.”

You smiled at him, stars in your eyes. He looked away for a second, a bit guilty for lying to you, but he feels it’s worth it.

“Grab your bag, ma. Let’s go.”

You hummed an affirmation, rushing to your room to grab the pink duffel bag.

You grabbed your phone off your night stand and did a double check for everything.

You walked out again, closing the door behind you. Miles was leant up against your doorframe. Forearm pressed on the wood and his torso stretched. A small sliver of his skin had peeked from under the fabric, you thanked the warming weather. Quickly averting your gaze, you noticed him watching your stare in intent, a curious smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You good, Chiquita?”

“Uhuh—, yep. Fine.”

“Mmhm.”

You huffed out, pouting and pressing your palm to his chest, his very toned chest, and pushed back lightly.

“Get outta my way, lame-o, I gotta lock the door.”

He resisted for a moment longer, gazing down at you in humour. He trailed his hand up your arm slyly and pried your hand off his chest by sliding his thumb up from under your wrist onto your palm. Slowly pulling you off him.

“Maybe ask politely.”

You gave him an unimpressed stare and flipped him off.

“Miles.”

“[Name].”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s just a ‘please’.”

“..-Please, get the fuck outta my way.”

“Of course, Hermosa.” He snorted as he did.

You turned around, Miles still close to you in the cramped hallway, and locked your door.

You turned around, noticing his eyes glance up from where they were before and shot him a questioning look. He turned around and led you through you hallway, dismissing the look.

—

He opened the steel door to the cafe. The scenery of a rooftop garden with the same Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers up here as there were out front of the store.

Shrubbery lined the rooftop edge and the string lights hung from the veranda created an atmosphere that seemed almost cinematic.

“Jesus, Miles. This is beautiful.”

“Mm, thought you’d like it.”

“I do, so much.”

You stated in awe at the mural painted on a buildings wall behind the door. A man who stroke a resemblance to Miles painted surrounded by colours of any.

The moonlight basked against the neon colours, accenting the man’s features.

“My dad.”

Your gaze snapped up to him beside you, brows furrowing in a frown.

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S cool. Nothin’ you coulda known, Ma.”

He sighed at the image of his father, wishing him well rest.

Turning to you, he wasn’t surprised to see the greif in your eyes. He was, though, surprised at the lack of pity.

He was so used to having his far family whisper behind his back at how his soul had died with his fathers. How the light in his eyes had gone missing the day his hand had been forced, unable to get to his dad in time.

There was no escaping his death.

So to feel the understanding coming from you—. The confidence in your sorry but knowledge that pity would do no one any good, it was refreshing. Everything about you was.

He turned away from your watchful eyes, the intensity being unusual for him.

“Come sit, vida mía.”

You followed him dutifully, loyally. Like you had since the last Winter. Like you would continue for the next to come.

A set of pillows had been placed in the middle of the veranda. White wood covered in lively vines and the aforementioned string lights.

There was a layout of his pastries (which you had learned he was the baker of) laid out on a cotton blanket.

You sat on one of the pillows, legs crossed. Miles following short after.

“Oooh,” You begun to tease him “,This a romantic dinner date?” The tone of your voice was in jest, but when he had failed to answer— Your heart rate sped up and your face went hot to the touch.

“Miles? Y’know I— I was just jokin’—“ “If you want it to be.”

You stood stupidly for a moment, not quite reeling in his words like any other person would.

“Wh—.”

It was his turn for unsurity now, eyes dancing nervously between you and the skyline.

“No pressure, though. Just think it’d be nice.”

“It would.”

He refocused on you again, finding you already watching him owlishly. “Yeah?”

“Mm, we could—,”

He anxiously started picking at the blanket. Who knew someone usually so calm could be this nervous asking out the most harmless girl he knew.

“Try. We could try that, together.” You mumbled a bit, seemingly playing it off. “If you want, or something..”

“I do.” He gained some leg to stand on, finding it easier and easier as you spoke, your nerves somehow calming his own.

“I’ve wanted that for a while.”

“Oh good, cause—“ You placed your hand in your lap, cracking your knuckles. “—Me too, so. That’s good.”

He grinned at your awkwardness, knowing your lack of experience in the relationship aspect of life, this mutual agreement, instead of one asking the other out, probably hasn’t been an experience of yours yet. He liked he was the first.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.”

You puffed at him, punching his arm lightly.

“I’m never shy, that’s for dumb stupid lame people. And I am none of those.” “Oh, sure.”

“Wh— Sure?! Which one are you ‘sure’-ing? Dumb, stupid or lame?!”

“Uhuh.”

“Miles!”

“Keep saying my name like that, mami.”

“Oh my goodness!”

—

And when you both finally got into his bed, you’d slept tangled together like you had dozens of times before. But this time, Miles would grab your waist and pull you closer. Settle his face in your neck and trace his nose down the length of your shoulder, peppering a kiss on every inch of skin he could find, and you’d both finally felt sure.

Maybe people were right, maybe Miles’s soul had died with his father.

But meeting you, something new, something rejuvenating—.

It left him with a light he could search for, a new soul. A whisp of a being you’d taken from your own heart and placed in his. It left him breathless with life.

—

YIPEEE!!!!! another one 🗣️‼️

thank you to my translation helpers (bbgs) @kissmxcheek and @millyswife

(oh, wrong Miles! oops! 🤗⬇️)

[bbhyeoliskooks]

"i'm not jealous!" | bsf!beomgyu

✩ genre: lots of fluff, f2l, mutual pining, musician gyu

✩ warnings: swear words, jealousy

Beomgyu had always loved you. It was quite obvious to everyone that saw the two of you, but somehow your eyes were always clouded to his true feelings. At first he became friends with you to see if he stood any chance- kind of shitty of him to be honest and he knew that- but now, your friendship bloomed into something deeper, a bond that people could only wish they had.

Whenever someone came up to you and Beomgyu, asking if you made it official since the last time they saw you, you would always wave your arms around and shake your head quickly to ward off the idea that you were more than friends. Beomgyu always wanted to say yes; after all, if people saw you two as a couple, then why couldn't you be? He guessed the biggest thing in the way was that you saw him as a best friend only, maybe even as a brother, and the thought hurt him more than anything.

Now you were sitting besides Beomgyu in his studio, as he listened over and over to the new track he made. Both him and Yeonjun were playing with different instruments, the versatile range going from a piccolo to an electric drum kit. They had been at this for hours and you were feeling left out as the friend date went from hanging out to messing around the studio. You could probably contribute more ideas, but sleep was already heavy on your eyelids. You looked blearily at them, clearing your throat in annoyance when their laughs broke the sound barrier yet again that night.

"Guys, I think I might head home. I'm a little tired, and I don't think I'm really necessary for this?" The last sentence might've sounded a little passive aggressive, but you knew they wouldn't take it that way. It was the truth after all: you were too tired and couldn't help much.

You failed to catch the disappointment on Beomgyu's falling face as he turned around to look at you.

"But Y/NNNN," he whined, "we'll be done soon! It'll just take 5 minutes. Plus, I-uh we need you." I need you, he thought silently, almost blurting the wrong words out. The frown on his face was big as he accentuated it to gain pity points. You rolled your eyes, smiling at both his playfulness and how badly he wanted you there.

Yeonjun sat up from his chair and glanced at you as he shuffled his weight to the right side.

"Sorry, Y/N. We got a good idea for a song and can't walk you out now" he paused for a second to look at the glistening watch on his wrist, "but if you want, I could grab you some coffee? That'll keep you up for longer probably."

Yeonjun's kindness and the thought of coffee made you smile. Coffee sounded glorious at that very moment and Yeonjun was an angel for coming up with that idea so quickly. If not, you would definitely fall asleep on the firm and uncomfortable couch you were sitting on.

"Okay, thanks! Just grab my usual, okay?"

He smiled at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "of course!" Beomgyu watched the two of you quietly, his eyes glancing between your face and Yeonjun's for a hint of romance or perhaps hopefully that nothing was there at all. Nothing was there, right? He felt sick to his stomach as he heard you humming happily from the grey couch.

The room, now enveloped in thickened silence, surprised you. At this time, Beomgyu would be yapping your ear off about some of the instruments he found in the studio. Now that he was silent, the atmosphere felt incredibly awkward. You stopped humming and looked up to see Beomgyu with a clenched jaw looking down at the floor.

"Gyu," you whispered, deciding to take Yeonjun's seat in lieu of the boy who was grabbing your coffee, "what's wrong? You're never this silent." You smoothed out your bottoms, hoping you'd feel more comfortable. It just didn't feel right that Beomgyu wasn't initiating the conversation.

His face was still unreadable as he looked at the floor, counting the tiles, "he knows your usual? I thought I only knew your usual." His tone of his voice was rough and ragged, a feeling that you couldn't put your finger on. You were more confused than anything.

"It's just coffee, Gyu?" you questioned, tone becoming a bit defensive, "you know lots of things about me that he doesn't know about, if you're worried." In your opinion, it was a silly thing to worry about. Unfortunately for your heart, Beomgyu was your best friend. Since he only saw you platonically, the two of you were great friends. Yeonjun was just a close friend and besides, you and Beomgyu were closer. Why he was upset about this- it didn't make sense.

He gasped exasperatedly, now looking at you. You could see fire behind his eyes as he pursed his lips, "But coffee is a big deal! You don't understand, Y/N."

"... I clearly don't. Why is it a big deal?" You questioned again, but he didn't answer. Well, he didn't want to answer.

You tried again, prodding into him, but he was as closed off as ever. "What is this about?"

Then an idea flew into your head. No way... it couldn't be, but... it was right there all along. You started to laugh to yourself to which Beomgyu cocked his head at. You probably looked insane.

"Don't tell me..." you giggled, feeling giddy, "are you jealous, Gyu?" An inkling of hope ignited in your heart, hoping, praying that maybe he saw you in a different light now.

Beomgyu became defensive, furrowing his eyebrows and pouting. "I'm not jealous!" His voice turned quiet this time, as if he was whispering to the side. "Why would I be jealous?"

You grinned, motioning him to continue his thought process. "I don't know! You tell me!"

Beomgyu sighed, no longer able to fight the battle in his head of whether he should tell you or not. His deep brown eyes, now desperate and searching for yours, told you everything that you needed to know, alongside his faltering, weak voice.

"Because I only want you. Only you. Why can't you see that? I've always wanted you, but you never saw it."

You smiled, feeling adrenaline and excitement rush to your heart. You gently cupped Beomgyu's face in an attempt to bring him closer, his eyes widening as he tried to comprehend what was happening...

That night Beomgyu ended up with way too many kisses that made him super smitten. Yeonjun was incredibly confused when he came back to the studio, seeing Beomgyu in a heap of smiles and imaginary hearts floating beside him, alongside you who kept giggling every couple of seconds seeing your now boyfriend in such weak behavior.

Yes, Beomgyu has always wanted you. But now, he's got you and there was no need for him to be jealous anymore, knowing that you loved him too.

released: August 17, 2024 (12:20am CT)

thoughts: it's been 28 days since i've posted so i decided to hustle and work on anything that came to mind. the ending is abrupt, so i apologizeeee, this was super sweet though, i was kicking my feet while writing teehee

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