#i picture at the start he just stares at them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

formylovetodaryldixon · 2 days ago

Text

"You are." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

To Daryl, you are different, you are special, you are everything. But when his jealousy over a "prank" from your friend leads to a misunderstanding you can't resolve, and an incident the next day that nearly costs you your life, it causes Daryl to have a huge revelation about his feelings for you.

@artsynana: heyy dear!! i was wondering if you could ever write something with some soft jealous daryl x reader at the prison era, btw i love the way you write daryl🥰

A/N: Hi love. First, sorry! I didn't know you had left a request :( but thank you so much for doing it. This is a little short and different :( and a little more dramatic, but I really hope you like it♥ And for your words, thank u again! I think I write Daryl a little bit off the character, but I guess it's because I picture him like that hehe

Daryl Dixon is not a possessive person, never, but he is not made of steel either, that’s why he’s unable to stop jealousy from creeping up on him.

The night is ending inside the prison, the heat of the day floating in the air, but the still warm weather seems to hang over Daryl almost in a suffocating way. As he continues to wait for his dinner, he has a panoramic view of you across the dining room, sitting in the long steel chair, elbows on the table, always accompanied by that pretty boy Sean, with his stupid green eyes and that stupid smile, following you ever since Daryl rescued his group from the governor.

And Daryl hates not being able to hate you for the senseless jealousy that you make him feel now, as he thought he did in the past.

Daryl hated you for being fearless, like the afternoon you showed up to save his ass back in Atlanta, like a force of nature, like a fucking storm–sweeping away the little peace he managed to find at the end of the world, shaking his own with your magnetic presence. But he also hated how your strong gaze could rest, turning you into an angel when he could see the tenderness in your soft smile, and your dreamy eyes when things got a little bit better in that grey world.

The secret of his hate was because of your selfless, wild and free heart, and that fucking dimple that formed on your left cheek, so yeah, he fell hard for that, he fell hard for you. But no one knew about your relationship, everyone blind to those little displays of affection: the casual brush of your hands, the secret smiles, the way his hand rested on the side of your neck before he kissed you.

“You're like… staring much. Don't you think?" Carol chuckles beside him, making Daryl look away from you as he takes his plate. "Damn, pookie, you are not subtle at all."

She continues with the bland jokes; the same ones she’s been making since Carol caught the way Daryl looked at you.

"Shut up." He hisses, turning his attention back to the food.

But Carol is not ready to give up.

"I once read that when a feeling is silenced, bottled up or imprisoned, the eyes, the lover’s gazes scream everything."

Daryl frowns, confused.

"What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout?"

She chuckles, crossing her arms.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just saying that maybe you should start making it clear to everyone that (Y/N) is with you."

He clears his throat, but the heat on his cheeks burns more than the sun on that season.

"Ya knew?"

"No. You just told me." Carol turns around towards the pot to serve herself a plate, Daryl narrowing his eyes at her, even if she isn’t looking at him.

"But, uh... like what?" He asks after a few seconds, hoping that Carol will understand the question without him having to spell it out for her.

She shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe approach her not only when you two are alone.”

Carol smiles at Daryl, walking away to leave him with the weight of his thoughts.

Daryl Dixon is a strong man, to survive, to protect, but as a boy who grew tall but is still a boy on the inside, he feels lost with the feelings he keeps inside him, not knowing what to do with them. He had had casual encounters in bars, but was too drunk to even remember, to even care about them. But you are different, you are special, you are everything. That’s why, even with his heart hammering in his chest, Daryl walks over to the last table, eyes fixed on your profile, his sometimes noisy mind disappearing the rest as he sets his plate down on the table before sitting down next to you, ignoring the confused look from Sean, who was silent for a second in shock before resuming his story of a past life on his farm with the rest.

“The lake water is cold during that season…” He keeps talking, oblivious to the way you hold your breath when you feel Daryl's fingers on your lower back.

But out of nowhere, his hand begins to seek out the skin beneath, a light touch over the edge of your black t–shirt until he finds the warmth of your flesh. Your back arches slightly beneath his calloused fingers on your skin, but you try to control your body as your dirty thoughts begin to overflow.

The small group is so wrapped up in the funny anecdote that no one notices the way Daryl leans in close.

"Breathe, peach, ‘fore ya pass out."

His words are the jolt back to reality, and you let out a breath as you squint, your hand darting from your lap to his leg, only to pinch his skin over his pants with your fingers. As a reflex, his leg jumps slightly, but Daryl takes the attack with a smirk that is almost imperceptible to the rest of them, but not to you.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Sean glances in your direction, catching your gaze and a confused expression that silently prompts him to repeat his question. "You told me you dated a guy who looked like me."

Confused, you clear your throat.

“Yeah. Uh, but we separated long before all this...”

Mary nods, a young woman who came with Sean’s group.

“Wow. He must have been really handsome. But did you love him, (Y/N)?”

Your skin feels cold again when Daryl's hand leaves your body, even if your skin feels boiling hot when the attention falls on you like the midday sun in that stifling season. As if someone had put their hand on your throat until it was blocked from air, your uncomfortable laughter comes out muffled, but you don’t answer before changing topics. But it's sad that after a short while, Daryl stands up to go to his own cell, his thoughts run wild about the jealousy he feels about that guy, thinking that there was someone who made you feel something when, for him, you were his first everything.

When dinner time is over and everyone returns to their cells, you find yourself timidly entering Daryl's cell only because his door was still open, but staying close to it. He’s lying on his back, eyes fixed on the arrow in his hands just to keep himself busy.

“Hey. Uh, can we talk?”

“’bout what?”

His voice is flat, not a single emotion in it.

“About what happened in the dining room with Sean.”

“What ‘bout it?”

You shrug, even if he isn’t looking at you.

“Don’t know exactly, but I think I made you feel uncomfortable.”

Daryl scoffs.

“Ya didn't make me feel anythin’.”

His words form a lump in your throat, completely silencing the truth you were going to tell, just because your own anxious mind tells you that you don't make him feel anything, at all, like never, and that is painful.

“Okay, uh, I don’t want to force you to talk so… I guess I’m gonna go. Oh, we'll leave early tomorrow for the run, by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You sigh, walking away.

But jealousy is an irrational force, but a force of nature that resembles a hurricane, or any destructive phenomenon inside a timid and fearful mind: that’s why when the early morning arrives and the first ray of sun shines on the horizon, Daryl decides to switch places with Glenn, just so he wouldn't be stuck with his thoughts of you in a car for hours.

However, the day grows tedious for him, even in the small details like the wind blowing dust into his face, or the way the walkers keep piling up against the fence, taking the place of the lifeless body when Daryl stabs his knife into their skulls. But before his ocean–blue eyes can see the car returning at a worrying speed, his ears can hear the horn, like a desperate call that makes his heart wake up frantically.

“Someone is hurt.” Carol tells him, a second before they start running towards the main fence.

Maggie and Rick are closer and they open the gates, the car raising tornadoes of dust until it stopped inside the prison. Michonne steps out of the passenger seat as Daryl and Carol arrive to meet her, Bob and Glenn following as she begins to narrate the horror story.

“… and one of those men was behind me, (Y/N) shot him but another stabbed her in the abdomen.”

The back door of the car is open, but like a roller coaster of emotions, Daryl’s heart is so up that it threatens to stop because of the fear, as if it stopped pumping blood to replace it with an infinite void. But he refuses to listen to the death whispering in his ear that you won’t make it as he carries you, arms under your shoulders and knees.

“Call Hershel!” He says, to whoever is faster as Daryl starts waking fast, because, even though he wants to run to catch the seconds that seem to slip away, your body feels as fragile as porcelain.

And it’s crazy, it’s wild the way Herself has to perform a surgery to control the bleeding on the same table where the night before your and his playful fingers had teased each other, minutes before ruining it all with your silence and his jealousy. But when it's all over and the madness has cleared like a thick fog, he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed, taking in the way your closed eyelids make you look like you're just asleep and not unconscious.

“She will make up, Daryl.” Carol says softly, standing close to him. “It’s late, you should rest.”

He shakes his head.

“Nah. I’m stayin’ here with her. Don’ want her to be alone when she does.”

Carol nods, knowing perfectly nothing will change his mind.

“Okay, Pookie, I will come to check on you both in the morning.”

She kisses his forehead, but Daryl is too absent to notice as she leaves the room. The entire prison falls into a deep sleep, and Daryl can hear the almost imperceptible sound of your breathing fighting against the almost deafening silence of his world, telling him without words that you are there, and that you are not going anywhere. But after a while, Daryl lies down on his right side, still close to the edge of the bed to give you all the space you needed, but able to leave only that small space between his body and yours.

“Fuck… now I know I love ya, peach.” He whispers, shy and scared you can hear him even like that. “That seems to be the only answer to why I almost lost ma shit when I saw ya there… bleedin’ out. Jesus, ya would probably laugh if ya saw me here now scared to death like a damn child.” Daryl tries to laugh, a nervous little laugh that falls to a heavy sigh. “Please, wake up, okay? I promise I’ll be better.”

But since there is no answer from the other end, his words hang in the air for the rest of the night, even after Daryl falls asleep. However, as the sun begins to peek through one of the prison's tall windows one more time, your eyelids open slightly, the world in front of you blurring for an instant, until your scattered senses become one and focus on the pain pounding your abdomen.

But still, you turn your head slightly to the side when your peripheral vision catches a body beside yours, smiling weakly at the image before you. Daryl's hair covers part of his closed eyes, but his slight frown reflects his concern, even if you don't know that.

You raise your arm until your hand touches the skin of his face, soft flesh under your fingers.

“Daryl?” Your voice brings him back easily, walking him up from that terrifying dream as he sits up, his hand cupping the side of your face just to feel that you're actually awake.

"Ya okay, peach, ya okay."

“Am I? Since when I’m here?”

Daryl sighs, but he decides to mask his fear with humor, just because he feels like he can spill all his feelings for you in a single second.

“Jus' a day, but ya took yer sweet time to wake up, woman.”

“Sorry.”

You chuckle shyly, but his gaze turns soft.

“Nah. Don’t be, I’m jus’ so glad ya came back.” Concern allows him to smile slightly, before telling you that he's going to go find Hershel.

The examination lasts a few minutes, until you two are left alone, again.

“Daryl…” One more time, your voice pulls his eyes towards yours the moment he sits back down. “Sean was messing with you. You know? I was going to tell you about it that night before all this, but you didn’t want to listen and I didn’t want to push you to.”

Embarrassed, Daryl lowers his head a little bit, watching you through his long hair.

“M’ sorry, peach. I was jealous of ‘em and I ended up sayin’ the wrong shit again.”

Them.

“Daryl, that’s exactly what I was going to tell you that night. There was never another guy, Sean made up that story to get a reaction out of you because even he can see how much you want to kick his ass every time you see him coming." You chuckle. "Besides, he’s gay.”

Daryl blinks, confused like never in his life.

“He is?”

You nod.

“Yep, really gay, but don’t worry, Sean has a crush on Glenn because you look too intimidating for his like.” You want to laugh, but you can see his own shame sinking his heart heavily, feeling the pain and guilt for letting you go alone, because Daryl is a protector: that is in his nature.

And when things went wrong, that weight fell on his shoulders.

"Sorry, I think I screwed this thing between us."

And in a second and with an overwhelming strength, you can see his eyes becoming teary with all the feelings he has inside him.

"No. You didn't, Daryl, unless you want this to end."

But he shakes his head.

"No. I don' want it to ever end."

You nod softly.

"Good." When your hand catches his, Daryl clings to it, but you don't force him to talk because you know better than anyone that it was difficult for him to express himself. "Now come, lie down and try to sleep. Okay?”

He nods, laying down next to you, too overwhelmed to speak his mind at that very moment, his hand still holding yours even after he falls asleep when his mind can no longer carry the full weight of his thoughts. But while he does, you can't help but smile slightly, because now, awake, you are convinced that his voice saying I love you was not just part of the dream you were having, sweet words you hope you can tell him soon.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you

150 notes · View notes

julietsf1 · 3 days ago

Text

Crushes and Cortados - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: as a barista you see a lot of weird customers in a day, and this one Argentinian boy who keeps coming in every day is definitely one of them.

content: meet cute, fluff, Barista!Reader

AN: As a Francaise, I am beyond happy Franco is with Alpine this season! Finally some reason to root for my own country lmao

_________________________________

Madrid in the fall was pure magic. The late afternoon sunlight painted the streets gold, filtering through rustling plane trees as locals bustled past in their scarves and coats. Inside the café, the air was warm and rich with the scent of espresso, the quiet hum of Spanish conversation mingling with the soft strumming of a flamenco guitar on the radio.

You stood behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine, relishing the peaceful moment before the next customer walked in.

And then, he appeared.

The door swung open with a soft chime, and you glanced up to see a boy who looked like he belonged in a Polaroid picture—slightly tousled dark curls, ridiculously green eyes, and the kind of smile that could probably get him out of trouble more often than not. He wasn’t overdressed like a tourist, but he didn’t look like a typical local, either. Too comfortable, too at ease—like he had already decided he liked this place.

And then, he spotted you.

His smile turned into something more mischievous, and before you could even process it, he was walking straight to the counter with way too much confidence for someone who had never been here before.

“Hola,” he greeted, voice smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

You blinked at him. “Hola.”

He stared at the menu for exactly two seconds, tilting his head as if contemplating some deep, existential question. Then, his eyes flicked back to you.

“What do you recommend?”

There was something off about the way he asked—something too casual, too charming. You had worked in this café long enough to know when a guy was genuinely lost and when he was just trying to start a conversation.

You leaned against the counter, unimpressed. “You mean… coffee-wise? Or in general?”

His smile widened. “Both.”

You exhaled a laugh, tilting your head. “For coffee? A cortado. Classic, strong, doesn’t waste your time.”

“And in general?” he pressed, as if this was an actual conversation we were having and not him blatantly flirting.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Find better ways to flirt than pretending you don’t know what to order.”

That caught him off guard. He blinked, then let out a genuine, delighted laugh, like you had just won a game he hadn’t even realized he was playing.

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Okay, that was good.”

You smirked, already moving to make his drink.

When you slid the cortado across the counter, he reached for it—but not before his fingers brushed yours.

You didn’t react. Not outwardly, at least.

But when you glanced up, he was already watching you, eyes flickering with something teasing yet soft.

“Gracias,” he murmured.

And then, as if he hadn’t just weirdly flirted with you for no reason, he took his cortado, walked to a table by the window, and sat down like he had been coming here for years.

You exhaled, shaking your head.

Weird.

…

After that day, he came back.

And then he came back again.

And again.

It became a thing.

Same time. Same cortado. Same grin that made you want to throw a dish towel at his stupidly cute face.

And he was always talking to you.

He asked about your classes, your favorite part of Madrid, whether you preferred cats or dogs. He teased you when you were grumpy, made you laugh when you were exhausted, remembered little things you told him without you realizing.

And the flirting?

Oh, it never stopped.

One day, he leaned across the counter, chin resting in his hand as he watched you make his drink.

“You know,” he mused, “I read somewhere that people who drink cortados are very mysterious.”

You snorted. “You just made that up.”

“No, really,” he insisted, trying to sound serious but failing because his eyes were sparkling with amusement. “It means they’re deep thinkers, passionate, probably a little misunderstood—”

“Have you heard yourself yap, darling? You are far from mysterious.”

“Wow.” He placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. “And here I thought we were friends.”

You smirked. “We’re not friends. You’re just a strange guy who orders the same coffee every day and refuses to sit anywhere except that exact same table.”

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue. “Or maybe I just like the view.”

Your hands froze mid-wipe.

He was too pleased with himself, watching your reaction like it was his favorite part of the day.

You rolled your eyes hard enough to injure yourself and turned away, pretending to organize the espresso cups.

Behind you, you heard his quiet chuckle, followed by the familiar sound of him picking up his cup and heading to his usual seat.

Damn him.

…

At first, it was nothing. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Franco was just a customer. A customer who happened to flirt a lot. A customer who smiled at you like he knew something you didn’t. A customer who remembered little details you barely recalled telling him.

A customer you found yourself thinking about—just a little too often.

It started with small things.

One afternoon, you were making someone’s latte when the café door chimed, and—without even thinking about it—you glanced up.

Franco.

Hair slightly messier than usual, backpack slung over one shoulder, already grinning before he even reached the counter.

Your stomach did this annoying little flip, and it took you a second to realize why.

You had been waiting for him.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that, when you realized it, you smiled.

It only got worse from there.

One day, after your shift, you were walking home, tired, your mind fogged up with school assignments, deadlines, and the general exhaustion of life.

And then, out of nowhere, you found yourself laughing.

It was one of his dumb jokes. One so profoundly stupid, you’d barely managed a blink when he’d said it. Something about how drinking cortados every day was “building his immunity” in case he was ever kidnapped. He’d even added, “It’s all about preparation, you know. Survival of the fittest. And right now? I’m basically the Usain Bolt of caffeine endurance.”At the time, you had rolled your eyes.

But now? Now, you were walking through Madrid laughing to yourself like an absolute idiot.

That’s when it hit you.

You liked him.

Not just in a he’s-funny-and-charming kind of way.

Not even in a he’s-cute-and-flirty kind of way.

No.

You liked him in a this boy has somehow become the best part of my day, and I didn’t even notice it happening kind of way.

And that realization?

Absolutely terrifying.

…

The next afternoon, you tried to act normal. Tried being the key word.

When Franco walked in, you were ready—arms crossed, expression unreadable, the picture of total indifference.

He approached the counter, completely unaware of the internal crisis you were currently battling.

Then, as always, he leaned against the counter, tilting his head in that ridiculously smug way.

“Buenas,” he said, flashing his signature grin.

And that’s when you knew.

You weren’t going to fight it anymore.

You weren’t just warming up to him—you were already lost, and the only thing left to do was even the playing field.

So, for the first time, you mirrored him.

Leaning against the counter, resting your chin in your hand, mimicking the way he always did it.

His eyebrows lifted—curious, amused, interested.

“Let me guess,” you said before he could speak. “Cortado?”

His grin widened immediately, like he had been waiting for this moment.

“You really know me.”

You tilted your head, tapping your fingers against the countertop. “More like you’re predictable.”

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Or maybe I just know what I want.”

Your stomach flipped before you could stop it.

But instead of panicking, instead of letting him win, you tilted your head further, just slightly, and raised an eyebrow.

“Right,” you mused, voice light, teasing. “And what else do you want, Franco?”

For the first time, he blinked.

Just for a fraction of a second, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually challenge him.

And then—he laughed.

Head tilting back, genuine amusement spilling into his smile, a hand rubbing the back of his neck as if he had just been caught off guard.

“Oh,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”

You shrugged, smirking. “I learn from the best.”

His eyes crinkled at the edges, full of something warm, teasing, dangerously fond.

And that was it.

That was the moment.

Because from then on, everything between you changed.

…

It was a slow afternoon, the kind where the café hummed with a lazy warmth, the scent of espresso lingering in the air, blending with the sweetness of pastries cooling on the counter. Outside, the sun dipped lower, stretching golden light through the wide glass windows, making everything glow.

Franco had been here for nearly an hour, which was longer than usual. He sat in his usual spot by the window, tapping his fingers idly against his empty cortado cup, gaze flickering between the street outside and—you.

You could feel it.

The weight of his attention, the way he kept watching you as if he had something to say, but every time you caught his gaze, he looked away, chewing on his lip, pretending to check his phone.

Which was weird.

Because Franco never hesitated.

His presence in the café had always been effortless, his flirty remarks sliding into conversation like second nature, his teasing confidence something you had grown accustomed to. It was his thing—leaning against the counter with that knowing smirk, making some ridiculous comment just to see you roll your eyes. It was a routine, a pattern, one you had started to enjoy way too much.

But today, something was different.

You glanced at him again.

He was still staring at his cup.

Still not walking up to the counter.

It took another few minutes before he finally stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket, stretching his arms over his head like he was shaking off whatever thoughts had been keeping him rooted to that seat. He made his way toward the counter a little slower than usual, his steps lacking their usual lightness, as if he was deliberately dragging them out.

When he reached the counter, he didn’t lean against it like he usually did. Didn’t rest his chin in his hand, didn’t flash that effortless grin.

Instead, he hesitated.

You raised an eyebrow, already reaching for a cup. “Another cortado for you?”

Franco exhaled a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… no. Actually.”

You blinked. That was new.

He hesitated again, shifting his weight slightly, his fingers drumming against the counter before he finally looked at you properly.

“Actually… I was thinking maybe I could see you sometime.” He paused. “Some place that’s not here.”

The words hung between you, heavy and sudden, but not entirely unexpected.

Because deep down, you had been waiting for this moment.

You had felt it coming.

Felt it in the way he lingered a little longer each time he came in, in the way his teasing had softened into something fonder, in the way his eyes flickered to your lips sometimes when you laughed.

And yet—hearing it aloud still sent a jolt of something sharp through your chest.

Your first instinct was to deflect, to act like this wasn’t a big deal. Because if you let yourself think about it too much, you might just start realizing that your stomach was doing things and your heart was beating faster and—

You smirked, crossing your arms. “There’s this really cute café on the other side of town—”

And then—he laughed.

Like, really laughed.

Not his usual amused chuckle, not one of those half-smirks he usually gave when you tried to banter back. This was a proper, head-tilted-back, actual laughter, the kind that made his shoulders shake slightly, the kind that caught you completely off guard.

You frowned, confused. “What?”

Franco wiped at his eye, still grinning. “I need to be honest with you. I don’t actually like coffee.”

Silence.

You blinked at him. Once. Twice.

Then, finally, you leaned forward, elbows against the counter, staring him down like he had just spoken in another language.

“You’re joking.”

He held up his hands in surrender, grinning like a guilty criminal caught in the act. “Nope.”

“You—” You gestured at him wildly. “You have been drinking cortados every single day for weeks?”

Franco shrugged, completely unbothered. “What can I say?” He flashed that infuriating, ridiculously boyish smile, the one that had always made you a little weak in the knees. “You make terrible coffee taste good.”

You stared at him, processing.

Then—you burst out laughing.

“For what?” Your hands flailing as if you could somehow pluck the answer from the air. “For this? For me?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You drank all that… espresso and milk, knowing full well you didn’t like it?”

“Every last drop,” he confirmed, looking far too proud of himself.

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe.” He leaned on the counter, resting his chin in his hand as his grin turned softer, more teasing. “But it worked, didn’t it? You’re talking to me now.”

You threw your hands up. “Oh my God. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard! You could’ve just… I don’t know, asked for tea! Or water! Or literally anything else!”

“And miss out on the best cortado this side of Madrid?” Franco shook his head in mock disappointment. “No, no. That would’ve been a tragedy.”

You couldn’t help it—you snorted, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the laugh that slipped out.

“See?” He pointed at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re laughing. So I must be doing something right.”

“You are—” You shook your head, still laughing, pressing a hand to your forehead. “You are really weird.”

Franco only grinned wider, looking pleased with himself.

“And yet, you like it.”

“I don’t,” you shot back, even though the warmth creeping into your cheeks said otherwise.

Franco raised an eyebrow, his grin growing impossibly smug. “You sure about that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a fine line between charming and annoying.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I’d still like to take you out.”

Your laughter slowly faded, but the warmth in your chest stayed.

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin, letting the moment stretch out just a little longer, just to make him wait.

Then—you smiled.

After a moment, you rolled your eyes, though your smile was now completely unguarded. “Fine. But if this date is awful, I’m making you drink two cortados next time.”

“Deal.” He grinned, his green eyes sparkling with so much boyish delight that you couldn’t help but laugh again.

You sighed, shaking your head, but the smile stayed on your face long after Franco walked out of the café that day.

#f1 x reader #fc43 x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula one #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto oneshot

134 notes · View notes

svnriseblvdd · 1 day ago

Text

neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

SYNOPSIS: with your friend iris in town, the two of you head to a house party, where your short dress and a game of pool send clark's thoughts running wild again.

WARNINGS: reference to perv!clark/reference to general perversion, clark thinks extensively about reader's panties, most of it's innuendo and allusions i won't lie, chloe makes a slight reference to sex on/over a table, random football player starts leering and staring at reader's ass, indirect description of a boner, clark gets a peek of reader's panties, doggy but no sex? (you'll see - they're in the position, but clothes and underwear are still on), clark is still dying for some action.

i might come back and rewrite this part at some point in the future, because i had a couple more ideas i wanted to put in but couldn't figure out at the time, and the ending falls a little flat - i knew i wanted something extra, but i think it just lacks what i wanted.

part one! part two! part three! part four!

Your friend Iris is across the room while music flows through the space, loud and deep, settling into your bones. She’s flirting with a guy from the football team. You’ve already assured her she will not be borrowing your bedroom if she decides to hook up with the guy, so she might as well go home with him or just find a room upstairs to use. This house belongs to one of the football players, they’re always throwing big parties.

Since Iris headed off ten minutes ago, you’ve been hovering a little awkwardly near the couches, except now there’s two couples making out on one of them, and then the other is filled with a group of friends you’re pretty sure are stoned out of their minds.

So now you’re just looking for anyone to talk to or at least linger by without looking weird and lonely. Someone you know.

Your face lights up in a smile when you notice exactly the people you need. Chloe and Lana are across the room, Chloe clearly judging people and Lana nodding her head either to the music or to Chloe’s comments. Lana smiles when she sees you, waving you over to them.

You cross the room, greeting them both with a grin and an excited, “Hi!”

“Hey, you look amazing!” Lana compliments.

“Thank you! You’re so gorgeous!”

“Is your friend having a good time?”

“I’d say so,” Chloe says, looking toward Iris, who’s mid-makeout with the aforementioned football player. Good for her.

Speaking of makeouts with football players, you need to find Clark.

Clark spies you from across the room on his way back to Chloe and Lana, drink in hand. As always, he thinks he might combust. Your dress hugs your figure, clinging like a second skin, and it’s so short that if he follows the lines of your legs from your feet up, it feels like they might never end.

And as always, his mind wanders. He thinks about how easy it would be to pick you up, wrap your legs around his waist. How your dress is short enough that it would hike up all by itself, bunching around your hips and showing off your panties. His x-ray vision means that he could just take a peek, but he refuses. It’s bad enough that he thinks about it, but to actually invade your privacy, to perv on you like that? He couldn’t. Surely not. He’ll let himself resort to his fantasies. His fantasies picture all manner of things.

Black, like the dress - lacy, very simple and nothing out of the ordinary really, but entirely sexy. A bold red, maybe - it leaves little to the imagination, it only really covers the bare minimum and leaves the rest so plain to see. But then he pictures something lighter, a pastel pink or blue perhaps. And that’s what sends his mind into a frenzy. Delicate, soft in its colour, cotton and lace, the prettiest he’d imagined yet. Just like one he’d seen on your bed that time he came over to help put your furniture together.

He approaches the three of you nevertheless, pushing his thoughts into the back of his mind.

“Clark!” You greet him with your bright smile.

“Hey!”

“I want to play pool, do you want to join?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Great! I’ll get it set up, you come over when you’re ready.”

He watches you walk away, hips swaying gently as you approach the pool table. “She’s so into you,” Chloe mutters, laughing.

“What?” He asks, eyebrows quirked. “No, she’s not.”

“Clark, she’s just invited you to go watch her bend over a table. Trust me, she’s into you.”

His cheeks flush red as he shakes his head. “No. No, she’s just- she says and does things without realising.”

“Oh, she realises,” Lana says, laughing a little. “She wants you to notice her.”

“I do notice her!”

“Not in the way that she wants. Not that she can see, anyway. To everyone else, it’s plainly obvious that you’re head-over-heels for the girl,” Chloe says. “Now go. She’s waiting for you.”

He joins you over at the pool table, where you’ve set it up. It’s only now that it’s just you and him that he realises you’re tipsy. He can see it in your eyes and the lazy smile on your face, and the way you stumble just a little into him, holding his biceps for support.

“Ladies first,” he says, watching you smile wider and turn to the table.

You walk to the other end as Clark lifts the triangle, and you bend at the waist, lining up your shot. You split the balls, and the game begins.

Halfway through, on your turn again, you bend at the waist once again, this time a little closer to Clark. And this time, one of the football players, Nathan, stares at your ass as you begin to bend over. Before he can see any more, Clark steps in the way, blocking Nathan’s view and shooting him a glare.

Nathan raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, Kent. I didn’t know y’all were like that.” And he moves on.

Clark rolls his eyes a little.

Right towards the end, with you surprisingly in the lead - although Clark’s willing to bet that he’s at a disadvantage, given that most of his blood is travelling in the opposite direction away from his brain and somewhere it is not currently needed - you go to take another shot. You evaluate a few angles, then decide on one. Clark is leaning against a wall, watching you move around the table with careful thought. And then you find your ideal angle.

The best place you can take this shot from and still have a chance at potting it is by standing right in front of Clark.

So you stand there, and bend over again. Clark hadn’t seen it before, careful to move with you so that he never had to be standing at an angle where he’d see much, if anything, when you bent over. But this shot was far too difficult to predict where you’d go, nowhere was ideal. So he’d stuck where he was and begged whatever power there was that you didn’t need to stand in front of him. But the powers are betting against him.

You bend over, so your torso is at a parallel angle to the table, and line up your shot. And Clark doesn’t mean to look, really. But just like in the car the other day when he’d glanced at your tits, your ass is right there. How was he supposed to know that your dress was so short he’d be able to see your panties?

The best of his fantasies are fulfilled when he glimpses your baby blue underwear, just like he imagined it. Cotton, but he can see the beginnings of lace detail. It covers you well, until it reaches your ass, where the material begins to thin, and it becomes just a flimsy thing that rests between your ass cheeks. He’d imagined the thong before, not half an hour ago. But now he was seeing it.

You stumble a little, out of nowhere seemingly, and he’s quick to grip your hips to stabilise you. And now his crotch is pretty much against your ass. Now it just looks like he’s about to take you from behind.

“Uh-” He lets you go. “You okay?”

“Mm-hm. I’m about to win. I couldn’t be better.”

“Yeah, well, there’s still time, don’t get your hopes too high.”

Except Clark knows it would take a miracle for him to win now. His head’s too clouded with lust, his brain is so deprived of blood it should be concerning, and he’s so hard it’s painful. He thinks he might just finish in his pants any minute. And if he didn’t know better, he’d think that you’re doing this to him intentionally. But you’re too tipsy and he’s seen the way you are normally, always saying and doing things by accident or without realising the double entendre.

Or so he thinks.

Thing is, you didn’t really come here with a plan to try to rile him up. You know it never usually seems to work - Clark’s awkward, and far too respectful to objectify you, even if you’re practically begging him to (or so you think). You love how respectful Clark is, really, and you’re glad he was raised right, but just once you want him to throw that out the window, be as depraved as he can be, lustful and carnal. He’s so easily-flustered and touch-starved, you know that he has to have locked up all those urges and desires somewhere. You really didn’t plan anything tonight, the tipsiness seems to have done some of it for you.

When you win the match a little later, you cheer and jump in celebration, Clark smiling at you and keeping his eyes very much on yours. You hug him joyfully, and he wraps his strong arms around you.

It was strange how a man so physically imposing could hold so much comfort.

~~~

“So, how was your night?” Iris asks over a cup of coffee as the two of you sit in the Talon.

You smile. “Pretty good. You?”

“Very good.”

Later on, when Clark arrives with Chloe, Pete, and Lana, Iris wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you roll your eyes before inviting them to join you.

The others all take their seats, leaving Clark to sit next to you.

He looks flushed, but you choose not to comment.

taglist;

@artyandink

@blueeweeb

@ssnapsaurus

@i-got-a-bad-feeling-about-this

@milestellerismybf

@purple-1995

@writergiih

@elysianrosie

@glennussy

@rainwaterxx

#muse: clark #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader #smallville clark kent #smallville clark kent x reader

125 notes · View notes

callsigns-haze · 3 days ago

Text

A big bang (sneak peak)

Summary: Jake asks Bradley to help unpack and not everything goes as planned, especially for your plates.

Warning: Nothing much in fairness maybe language?

Authors note: I haven't wrote much for these two in ages and I miss them too much to not post for them again!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part of the little life universe

You adjusted Ellie against your hip as you stepped out of the bedroom, making your way down the hall. The faint sound of Rooster’s voice, followed by Jake’s unmistakable groan of frustration, drifted up the stairs, confirming that whatever had smashed earlier was definitely their fault.

Ellie gurgled against your shoulder, her tiny fingers grabbing a fistful of your sweater as you started down the stairs. You moved carefully, still a little unsteady from being sick, but determined to see what disaster awaited you.

As you reached the bottom, the scene in the living room came into view. Jake and Rooster stood frozen near the kitchen, surrounded by a mess of broken ceramic pieces and what looked like the remnants of a picture frame scattered across the floor.

Rooster was the first to spot you. “Oh, hey, corpse,” he greeted casually, as if he wasn’t standing in the middle of a crime scene. His eyes flickered to Ellie, and he grinned. “Hope this one doesn’t inherit either of your coordination skills.”

You raised an eyebrow, shifting Ellie higher on your hip. “Do I even want to know what happened?”

Jake let out a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face. “Rooster happened,” he grumbled. “Tried to ‘help’ move one of the boxes, tripped over thin air, and sent it flying into the wall.”

“It was not thin air,” Rooster defended, crossing his arms. “There was… something there.”

Jake shot him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, it’s called your own two feet.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh as you glanced down at the mess. “So, what exactly broke?”

Jake exhaled, looking more annoyed than anything. “Just a frame. And one of the plates from your mom.”

You winced. “One of the nice ones?”

Jake’s silence was answer enough.

You sighed, rubbing Ellie’s back as she started to squirm. “Well, that’s great. Really great.”

Rooster coughed. “In my defence, I—”

Jake cut him off with a sharp look. “There is no defence, Bradshaw.”

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh. “Just… clean it up before Ellie decides she wants to crawl through it.”

Jake gave you a tired salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rooster grinned, nudging Jake with his elbow. “See? She is the boss.”

Jake groaned, bending down to start picking up the mess, while you just shook your head, already knowing this was far from the last disaster these two would cause.

You adjusted Ellie on your hip, bouncing her lightly as you stared at the mess on the floor. With a sigh, you looked up at Jake, suspicion creeping into your voice.

“Wait… were they the pretty black plates my mom gave me?”

Jake froze mid-reach, clearly debating whether or not lying was an option here. Rooster, on the other hand, had no such filter.

“Yup,” he answered immediately, nodding. “Smashed right into the wall. Shattered on impact. It was actually kinda impressive—”

Jake smacked him on the arm, shooting him a glare. “Dude.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply through your nose. Ellie let out a little gurgle, oblivious to the silent devastation unfolding in your chest.

“You broke my favourite plates?” you said, opening your eyes to glare at them both.

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was an accident, darlin’. I swear, I was nowhere near it. Bradley was the one who—”

Rooster threw his hands up. “Okay, technically, yes, but in my defence—”

“There is no defence!” Jake shot back, exasperated.

You groaned, shifting Ellie to your other arm. “Jake, those were special. My mom gave them to us when we moved in together.”

Jake softened, stepping toward you with his hands up in surrender. “I know, sugar, I know. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll find a replacement.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re gonna find handmade black ceramic plates that my mom had custom-made for us? Where, Jake?”

Rooster cleared his throat. “Etsy?”

You shot him a glare so sharp that he took a step back.

Jake sighed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I really am sorry, darlin’. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to them if I could help it.”

You huffed, shifting Ellie again as she started to gnaw on your shoulder. “You owe me for this, Seresin.”

Jake smirked, leaning in closer. “I always owe you, sweetheart.”

Rooster made a gagging noise. “God, you two are disgustingly domestic.”

You rolled your eyes, waving them both off. “Just clean it up before I change my mind about forgiving you.”

Jake chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before turning back to the mess. Rooster grumbled under his breath but joined in, and you just shook your head, still mourning your poor, beautiful plates.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #hangman top gun #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x reader

137 notes · View notes

ds-angel1 · 11 hours ago

Text

Bunny - brotherly love

cw: SMUT(18+), incest, piv sex, dubcon, hand job, finger sucking, nipple/titties play, reader being pervy and sneaking into Rafe´s room while he´s sleeping, age gap(18 and 25), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!!

wc: ~ 1,6k

a/n: first post and first fic, pls dont cancel me... yay

You knew it was vile, you knew it was dark and twisted.

You tried to stop—oh, how you tried--wrestling with shadows in your mind, drowning your thoughts in the shallow pools of distraction.

But they rose like whispers through the flood, unyielding, unrelenting. No, it didn’t work. It never did.

You still bit your lip every time he was shirtless. Your chest still flushed every time he was in your near vicinity. You still imagined him every time you reached your nimble fingers into your cotton panties.

Rafe.

Your brother.

It all started because of a simple joke. One that your friends made.

“Stop, oh my god, your brother is so hot, I’d let him hit so hard,” your best friend giggled as she munched on the popcorn you had cooked up for all 4 of you for movie night.

“Oh, hell yes!” Interjected another of your friends, her voice enthusiastic, “I would let him hit even if I was his sister!”

The living room erupted in giggles before they disappeared and the girls surrounding you focused their attention on the movie again.

Your attention stayed on the topic prior though. On him. Like any human mind would, your thoughts conjured up a realistic third-person image of your big brother fucking you. But what your mind did that not any human mind would do, was like the idea. Your eyes stared at the floor as you pictured the feeling, the view, the sounds. You clenched your thighs and bit your bottom lip—

“Hey, watcha nerds doin’?” He asked with a smirk as he appeared from behind, clad in only sweatpants.

You felt your cheeks flush at the realization of what you had been fantasizing about.

“Nothing, just watching a movie,” you muttered.

“Gee, no need to be so cold, bunny,” he laughed as he ruffled your hair. Bunny was a nickname he came up with for you. When you were 3 years old you just loved hopping around so 10-year-old Rafe decided to call you Bunny. It stuck. He perpetually calls you Bunny even now, 13 years later when you wouldn’t call yourself much of a hopper.

You had always been close. He was a great big brother, protective, and kind, always played with you when your parents were too busy. When you had a nightmare as a kid, you wouldn’t come rushing to your parent’s room, no, you´d sprinted to Rafe’s.

Innocent nights where he comforted you to sleep in his bed. But now you were imagining being in his bed again, but not him comforting you; him fucking you relentlessly. Nothing innocent about that.

Right now you were tossing and turning in your pink, fluffy sheets. You had rutted against a pillow for almost an hour, trying to block out his face but it just kept coming, then you rubbed your aching clothed core for what seemed like an eternity but the need and desperation never subsided.

The need and desperation for your brother.

When you threw your head to the side and saw that the purple, flower-decorated clock on your wall read 2 A.M., you just couldn’t take it anymore. You threw your blanket off of your body, yanking your legs to the side of your bed and then your body to stand.

With as much sneakiness and smoothness as you could conjure up, you slipped out of your bedroom, the patter of your feet fon the firm grey carpet in the hall sounding like church bells in your ears.

Right before the end of the hall, you turned your body left, finding yourself face to face with Rafe’s room. “KEEP OUT” stood in bold messy letters on a burgundy sign hung on the door.

Your parents never really paid much attention to it and just stormed in whenever they wanted. He was a 25-year-old still living with his parents, who could blame them for ignoring his rules?

Your fingers played with the hem of your nightgown nervously before you lifted one of your hands to slowly push down the door handle and crack the door open.

The small creak that came from the wood moving made you cringe in fear. Once the space was wide enough for you to fit, you entered his room.

There he was, lying sprawled out on his black satin bed cover, hair unruly and spiked. His body lay wide and stretched out on the mattress, his boxers the only thing covering him. His blanket lay on the ground as it seemed to always after he slept, even as a kid he did backflips and dances in his slumber.

The thoughts in your mind that screamed that this was wrong were drowned out by the sight of the slight bulge in his boxers.

You knew it was wrong. So so wrong. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You climbed onto the bed, crawling towards where he lay. He looked cute like this, snoring ever so slightly and a tiny bit of drool accumulating in the corner of his mouth.

Anxiously you moved on top of him, making sure to not let a single fiber of your legs or arms touch him.

After you had hyped yourself up enough to do it, you leaned back, letting your ass hit his thighs in a gentle fluid motion and your hands find his chest.

A moment of silence overtook the room and once you were sure he was still asleep you started moving again. Your hands found their way to his boxers, gripping the elastic band at the top and then without a single bit of haste pulling it down. Your hips lifted off of him and you dragged the plaid material all the way down to his shins and calves.

He stirred a bit, the cold air hitting his now bare crotch waking him a bit but he quickly settled into sleep again.

When you were extremely sure he was out cold again you finally let your eyes travel down. His half-hard cock, pretty and pink, barely at its full length and potential, and yet still managed to make you softly whimper out loud.

With a shaky hand, you reached forward, wrapping your small fingers around his thick base and pumping a few times. You weren’t a stranger to this, but this felt different. And no, not because he was your brother and it felt wrong. No, it felt right. Perfect.

A groan fell from his lips and he twisted his upper body, eyes squeezing shut even more tightly. At the sudden noise and movement, you immediately pulled your hand back, eyes widening in fear and worry.

In a desperate attempt to flee the scene, you kneeled up fully, accidentally brushing one of your plush tights against his tip.

It seemed that that was the only sensation left to wake him as a moment later you found yourself staring straight into your brother’s icy blue eyes.

His gaze left yours as he gained consciousness, pupils flicking around and taking in everything.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He whisper-shouted, confusion, anger and something else you hoped was desire present on his features.

“Um…” Your brain was frozen, all you could do was stare at him in horror as you knelt over him.

“You’re my fucking sister! And you’re 18! We could get fucking arrested! Me especially, you—“ he cut off before he could finish that thought as he saw your eyes watering.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he half ordered, half reassured, “Bunny, it’s gonna be okay. This never happened, okay? Go back to your room and—“ yet again he didn’t finish his sentence. This time it was because he had gripped your hips, hoping to lift you off of him, but instead, he accidentally brushed your nightdress up a bit and revealed your naked sex to him.

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, “God, Bunny…”

Nothing happened for a few seconds, silence and stillness taking over the bedroom. Then without warning he grasped your hips even tighter and sank you onto his thick, throbbing cock, causing you to moan and whimper out loudly.

Quickly, Rafe’s hand shot up, stuffing three fingers into your mouth to shut you up.

“Shh, Bunny, don’t want mommy and daddy hearing you now, do we?” His voice whispered sharply between heavy panted breaths.

You rolled your hips, gagging on his fingers as they roughly probed down your throat.

“Fuck, such a little slut for your big brother, huh Bunny?” He tantalized, hissing as you started bouncing up and down on his cock.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, his blunt tip hitting that perfect spot on your cervix every damn time. When he forced your dress down your shoulders and took one of your rosy pink buds into his mouth you felt as if your eyes could do a whole 360-degree spin.

You were sure the scene looked vulgar, a big brother letting his barely legal sister ride him, his mouth vigorously sucking, nipping, and lavishing her nipples, his fingers in her mouth to shut her up, drool running down the corners of her mouth and right into his own at your breasts. It was disgusting. Perfect.

It wasn’t long before you were choking and sputtering around his fingers that you were going to come, snapping your hips up and down faster and faster.

“Come for me, Bunny, be a good little sister, and come for your big brother.”

His words pushed you to your limit, clenching around his pipe unbelievably tight and coming. The feeling of your wet warmth snug around him made him quickly follow, shooting his load into you.

After a few more rolls of your hips, you had both come down from your highs and Rafe had removed his digits from your mouth. The room was filled with breathless pants and quiet shuffling now and then.

Finally, Rafe spoke up, his voice silent yet it spoke volumes of what he was feeling.

“Fuck.”

116 notes · View notes

nilla03 · 1 day ago

Text

“𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣' 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙨“

𝑃𝑙𝑜𝑡： 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛！

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠： 𝑎𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔，𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡， 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑔𝑒，𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛，ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛

The baby monitor cast a dim glow on your nightstand, the soft static filling the silence of your empty bed. You had just put your daughter down for the night, her tiny body finally relaxing after hours of fussing. Your body ached, exhaustion creeping into every limb, but sleep was the last thing on your mind.

Not when Armin still wasn’t home.

You sat at the edge of the bed, fingers curled around your phone, staring at the unanswered texts. Where are you? Are you coming home? Armin, answer me.

Nothing. Just like the last few nights.

Your stomach twisted as the familiar wave of resentment crawled up your spine. This wasn’t new—him disappearing for hours, showing up in the middle of the night with vague excuses. You used to believe him when he said it was work. Used to tell yourself that being the provider, the one out handling things, put pressure on him.

But you weren’t stupid. You knew what a man smelled like when he’d been around another woman.

The sound of the front door opening downstairs made you stand, heart pounding. Heavy footsteps echoed through the quiet house, his movements unhurried, like he had no reason to hide anything.

That only pissed you off more.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, you were already there, standing in his path with your arms crossed. His blue eyes met yours, and for a split second, something flashed across his face—guilt? Annoyance? He covered it quickly, running a hand through his messy blond hair.

“You’re up?” His voice was calm, like you weren’t standing there ready to rip him apart．

You scoffed. “Yeah, I’m up. Because unlike you, I’ve been home taking care of our daughter all fucking day.”

Armin exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he was already tired of the conversation. “（ఌ）don’t start with this right now. I told you, I had things to—”

“Things to handle?” You took a step closer, fists clenched. “You mean someone to handle?”

His jaw tightened. “Watch yourself.”

You ignored the warning. “No, you watch yourself,” you snapped. “You come home smelling like another bitch, after leaving me here alone again—”

Armin’s eyes darkened. “I told you, it’s work.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Your chest heaved, your breath sharp, but Armin just stared at you, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t even trying to deny it anymore, and that shattered something inside you.

Your vision blurred with tears as rage bubbled up, making your hands shake. Without thinking, you grabbed the first thing in reach—a picture frame from the hallway table—and hurled it at him.

“Fuck you, Armin!”

He dodged it easily, the glass shattering against the wall. His lips pressed into a tight line, but he still wasn’t raising his voice.

That only made you angrier.

“You think you can just do whatever you want?” Your voice cracked, frustration choking you. “Leave me here to raise our baby alone while you go fuck around? Do you even give a shit about us?”

Armin’s calm façade snapped.

In a flash, he had you pinned against the wall, his hands gripping your wrists. His breath was hot against your face

“Say that shit again,” he growled.

You struggled against him, but he didn’t budge. “Let me go.”

Armin let out a low, humorless laugh. "You know nothing," he muttered, shaking his head."You sit in this house and assume shit about me, but you have no fucking clue what I do when I'm out."

His eyes were dark, tired, but there was that usual mocking glint behind them, like he found this whole thing entertaining.

Your jaw clenched so tight it hurt. "You-"

"Lower your fucking voice," he hissed.

His free hand pointed toward the nursery door down the hall. "She is sleeping."

Before you could get another word in, he picked you up completely, his veiny arms manhandling you so quickly made you wince before he dropped you onto the couch, your body bouncing against the cushions as he ripped his shirt over his head. The glow from the streetlights outside cast harsh shadows over his toned chest, the dark ink of his tattoos.

You didn't get a chance to admire him before he was on you again, his hands yanking your thighs apart, his weight pressing you down into the couch.

Your hips rolled up into his, your nails digging into his biceps as you dared to push back.

"You think you can just come home smelling like another bitch and I'll just-"

Armin cut you off with a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, swallowing your words, stealing your air. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling hard enough to make your scalp burn.

"You think I touched her like this?" he taunted, lips brushing against yours, his hands roaming, gripping, possessive. "Think I let her talk back to me the way you do?"

His rough hands spread your thighs, gripping the tan inner skin so hard you could cry before rubbing his fingers beneath the soft fabric. He moved your panties to the side

Feeling how soaked you already were, how easy it was for his fingers to slip through your folds, teasing, taunting.

shoving two fingers inside you without warning, making you cry out. "You were just screaming at me, now you're dripping down my fucking hand?"

Your head turned to the side refusing to look at how pathetic you really were

"That's my girl," he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. "Always talking shit, but always taking everything I fucking give you."

You didn't even have time to respond before he was ripping your panties off, shoving his jeans down just enough to free his cock, his tip red and angry already leaking, aching to be inside you.

He spread your folds, fucking into you, his hips snapped into yours. He was so mean, one hand gripping your throat while the other pinned your wrists above your head.

"This what you wanted?" he taunted, his hips snapping against yours, knocking the breath from your lungs. "Wanted me to come home and put you in your fucking place?"

You whined, back arching, your body overwhelmed by the way he was owning you.

"Look at you," Armin sneered

“F-fuuck you armin!” You could cry at how good this felt, you let out a choked out whine while his grip was tightening around your throat, forcing you to meet his eyes.

the way your legs twitched with every deep thrust. "All you do is bitch and whine, but look at you now-taking this dick"

You glared up at him, tears burning in your eyes, but your body betrayed you. Your walls clenched around him, your thighs tightening as if to keep him from pulling away.

Armin chuckled, shaking his head. his free hand grabbing your jaw, squeezing your cheeks. "You were just throwing shit at me ten minutes ago, now you can't even think straight, can you?"

he sneered, picking up his pace again, slamming into you now, dragging a scream from your lips. "Think you get to tell me what the fuck to do? You don't run a fucking thing"

Your head was spinning, your hands twisting in his grip. "I hate you," you choked out, voice shaking.

"Yeah?" He pulled out completely before slamming back inside, knocking the breath from your lungs. "Then why's this pussy sucking me in, huh?"

You sobbed, nails digging into his arms, body shaking with every brutal thrust.

"You don't get to hate me," he murmured, voice dark, low. "You belong to me, baby. This pussy?" He grabbed your thigh, spreading you wider, fucking deeper. "Mine. That little attitude?" He dragged his lips against your ear, his breath hot. "Mine. You can scream, throw shit, slap me all you want, but at the end of the day?"

His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur.

"You're still gonna let me fuck you like this."

Your body was on fire, your pride crumbling with every rough snap of his hips, with every filthy word he spat down at you.

"You gonna cry, baby?" Armin taunted, watching the way your lashes fluttered, the way your thighs trembled. "Go on. Cry for me”

Your lips parted, a choked, desperate moan escaping before you could stop it.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body still trembling from the force of everything. His body was still pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling with every breath.

Armin stayed there for a moment, his hands lightly gripping your waist as if to keep you in place, as if he needed to keep you there.

But then, his voice cut through the tension, low and a little rough, like he'd been holding something back the entire time.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone else”

You froze, your chest still heaving as you slowly turned your head to look at him, unsure if you'd heard him correctly.

His eyes met yours, unwavering, dark with an intensity that matched the rawness of the moment.

"You think l'd do that to you?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, but the question hung in the air like an accusation.

"I've been working late," he continued, his tone softer now, almost coaxing, as if trying to ease the tension between you. "But it's been work. Nothing else. I swear."

"You sure?" you murmured, still unsure, your voice shaky.

"Yeah, baby, I'm sure."

𝑈𝑔ℎ 𝑖 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑏𝑎𝑔 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛 <3

#jjk fanfic #jjk x you #aot smut #aot x reader #armin arlert oneshot #armin smut #armin x reader #attack on titan armin #armin x you #armin arlert smut

111 notes · View notes

eclipixels · 2 days ago

Note

Literally love your page, like seeing your fic is a immediately read!!!!!! Idk if you do request or not so ignore it if you want

Can you do like Isagi x reader where there like going on a date, and some fans stop them to take pictures with them but one of the fans let slip they like reader more cause she their favorite WAG or something like that, thank you in advance!!!!!<3

Your fans?

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

[1,563 words]

You two had always made time for dates, no matter how hectic life became. Ever since your relationship turned serious, prioritizing each other had been an unspoken promise. No matter how grueling Isagi’s training got or how deep you found yourself buried in your personal research projects, you both carved out moments just for the two of you. Those moments had once been frequent. Late-night strolls, cozy café visits, spontaneous weekend getaways, but lately, they have become frustratingly scarce.

Between Isagi’s ever-demanding soccer career and your growing recognition in your respective field, finding time together was beginning to feel like a luxury rather than a routine. You had earned a reputation for yourself at a remarkably young age, and Isagi’s talent had propelled him into the spotlight more than ever. It was exhilarating, yet exhausting.

And when you finally did find the time to go on a date, it hardly felt like one anymore. The quiet, intimate moments you craved were constantly interrupted by eager fans. At first, you didn’t mind. It was sweet seeing little kids approach Isagi, their eyes brimming with admiration, their excitement barely contained as they asked for autographs or a quick picture. Those moments warmed your heart, knowing how much he inspired them.

But the fangirls… the relentless, wide-eyed admirers who seemed to forget you even existed—those were starting to wear on you. The way they giggled, clung to every word he spoke, and completely disregarded the fact that he was clearly on a date made your patience run thin. And the older fans, the ones who treated him like a celebrity first and a person second, weren’t much better. It was draining, watching your time with him slip away bit by bit, stolen by people who didn’t understand how rare these moments were for you.

You never wanted to resent his success. You were proud of him, so incredibly proud. But sometimes, you wished you could go back to when it was just the two of you, uninterrupted and unbothered. Was that such a bad thing to want?

"Y/N-channn!" Isagi came bursting in through the door.

"Ichi, what the hell?!" you yelped.

"What?" he asked, blinking innocently.

"Ever heard of knocking? I could've been naked!"

"You say that like it’s a bad thing." His lips curled into a smirk.

You shot him a glare, and he laughed before changing the subject. "Anyway, why aren’t you ready yet?"

"For what?"

"Our date!"

"When did we plan that?" You asked, not that you were complaining. You hadn’t been on one in awhile.

"Right now," he grinned, completely unbothered. "Go get ready!"

You stared at him, waiting expectantly. He stared back. Is he stupid?

“So you gonna change or…?” He finally spoke, coughing awkwardly.

"With you in here?" You looked at him with bewilderment. Since when did he get so bold?

“Yeah.”

"I’m not stripping while your perverted ass is staring."

"Nothing I haven’t seen before," he shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Out!" You grabbed a pillow and chucked it at the thirsty man. “You fien”

He dodged, laughing as he backed toward the door. "Only for you, love!"

You shut the door behind him, shaking your head with a small smile.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of city life as you and Isagi strolled through the streets, hand in hand. The glow of streetlights bathed the pavement in a warm, golden hue, and the faint scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby vendor filled the air. It was peaceful, just the two of you, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. These were the moments you cherished most. The quiet, stolen fragments of normalcy. Laughter bubbled up between you two as your dorky boyfriend spouted some random nonsense he knew would make you laugh. It was sweet, the way he was so tentative towards you.

But that tranquility didn’t last for long.

You felt it before it even happened. Familiar, lingering glances from a small group of middle schoolers standing nearby. Their hushed whispers, barely concealed excitement, and the way they kept shifting their gaze toward Isagi made it all too clear. You sighed inwardly, already knowing what was coming.

Sure enough, three of them finally gathered the courage to approach. Their steps were hesitant at first, their hands fidgeting at their sides. One of the kids, probably the boldest of the group, cleared their throat before speaking.

“U-um… excuse me! You’re—You’re Isagi Yoichi, right?” Their voice wavered between nervousness and awe, their friends standing just behind, eyes wide with anticipation.

You stole a glance at Isagi, who offered them a small, friendly smile.

And as much as you wanted to be patient, to remind yourself that these were just people who admired him, you couldn’t ignore the twinge of irritation settling in your chest. Your time with him was so limited, and yet, even now, it wasn’t truly yours.

"Can we take a picture? We're really big fans!"

You sighed, prepared for the routine of Isagi smiling for the camera while you played photographer. But then, something unexpected happened. Instead of handing you the phone, they positioned themselves between both of you. You blinked. They wanted a picture with you, too? Isagi and you, not just him.

Your boyfriend grinned as he wrapped an arm around you, all too amused by your shocked expression. You managed to smile for the camera, still processing the fact that, for once, you weren’t forgotten.

Then, to your even greater surprise, one of the middle schoolers turned to you, practically vibrating with excitement. "C-Can I get a picture with just you, L/n-san?"

Your jaw nearly dropped.

"Huh? Me?"

"Yes! You're so cool!" they beamed before handing the phone over to Isagi to take the picture.

Your face went hot. Isagi, meanwhile, couldn’t help the fireworks in his heart at the sight of your expression. The way your eyebrows were raised, your cheeks flushed and your eyes all wide and doey. You looked like the epitome of the expression, ‘deer in headlights’.

You tried to regain your composure, posing for the picture.

The middle schooler grinned, clutching their phone like it held the most precious treasure. "You're so smart and pretty, and you and Isagi are, like, goals!"

Isagi chuckled under his breath, watching as your flustered expression deepened. His grip on your hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance as you blinked in surprise at the unexpected compliment. You weren’t used to being recognized, at least not in this way. It was always about Isagi, about his incredible skills on the field, his rising fame, his career. But to hear someone acknowledge you, your intelligence, your looks, and your relationship caught you completely off guard.

“You follow my work?” you stammered, blinking at the middle schooler, who grinned and clutched their phone like it was holding the most precious treasure.

“Of course!” they chirped. “Your research is so cool! I read that article you posted last month—well, I didn’t understand all of it, but it was still amazing! And your social media posts? Super inspiring! You’re always sharing interesting stuff, and the way you talk about your work is just—ahhh, so cool! You’re, like, super talented!”

Your lips parted, struggling to find the right words. “Oh! Thank you!” you finally managed, offering them a small, bashful smile.

The kid practically beamed, rocking on their heels as they stared up at the two of you with starry-eyed admiration. “Seriously, you guys are amazing!”

“It was nice meeting you, bye!” They said before running back to where they were, giggling.

You watched them go, their excitement still bubbling over as they rejoined their friends. A small smile tugged at your lips. Despite the initial interruption, you had to admit, it wasn’t the worst encounter.

Isagi let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to you with an amused grin. “See? You’re famous too,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the warmth in your expression. “Hardly. But… it was kind of nice,” you admitted, glancing down at your intertwined hands. “I’m just not used to it. People always recognize you, not me.”

Isagi tilted his head slightly, squeezing your hand before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Well, they should. You work just as hard if not more.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his voice melting away the remnants of your earlier frustration. He always had this way of making you feel valued, of reminding you that your work, your passion, that you were just as important as everything else.

No—you were the most important to him. You just didn’t notice it. You didn’t see the way he’d always steal glances at you, the way he needed to constantly be touching at least some part of you, the way he needed at least (if not more) a kiss a day, the way he needed to hear your voice just to get through the week, the way he just needed you.

You sighed, leaning into him slightly as you resumed walking. Isagi hummed softly, draping an arm around your shoulders as he pulled you close once again. You smiled, letting yourself sink into the warmth of the moment. Even if the world would always pull at him, demanding his time and attention, it all belonged to you.

#isagi x reader #bllk isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk

105 notes · View notes

earlgreylatte · 2 days ago

Text

Nothing to Declare

You and Mark try not to sync up your breakdowns.

Watching Mark solemnly gaze at his phone, his call with Amber cut because of the ship’s rising altitude, you shift, fiddling with your camera’s settings.

“It’s not too late to back out,” you suggest, “I should be fine to go on my own. Honestly, this might be overkill.”

“No way,” he immediately refutes, looking back at you, “I’m not letting you go to a planet that’s who knows where by yourself. And, honestly? You should still be resting. You can only now just eat solids—“

You press a hand to your abdomen. It’s been months now since your dad impaled you with his bare hand and took off. If you weren’t you, you’d be killed instantly.

You brought back into reality when Mark places a hand on your shoulder, “I just mean…you shouldn’t be pushing yourself back into work so soon. You’ve been going at it for years now.”

You grimace at the reminder, “I could say the same to you. You don’t need to put others before yourself all the time. You’re missing your first week of lectures, for god’s sake.”

“It’s fine, William will cover for me,” he shakes his head.

“You better take him flying when you get back.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“You guess?”

You and Mark take a seat as you see stars shine outside the ship’s windows.

The Thraxan piloting the ship, speaks up, “Are you comfortable, Mark Gray—sorry, Invincible, Singularity?”

“Very plush seats,” you compliment.

“Yeah, thanks,” Mark responds, sullenly. “How long until we get to Thraxa?”

“Approximately six of your Earth days!” The alien informs.

You eye your brother as he sighs and slumps into his seat. “Space sucks…”

You don’t disagree.

Mark shakes you awake, you try to batt your hand at him, “We’re here. Finally.”

Staring out the windows, you immediately notice the violet colour of the planet and its architecture, maybe you’ll take a picture or two. When the planetary threat was extinguished, of course.

Exiting the ship, you and Mark find yourselves surrounded by Thraxans starting at you two in awe, whispers of excitement filling the air. You take a picture. You can multitask.

“Uh, hi?” Mark offered.

Your alien guide, leans in, “Don’t mind them! The monarch wants to meet you at once!”

Mark steps forward first, into the direction of the purple palace at the centre of the city, cubic and with waterfalls. You snap another photo as two children duck under Mark’s arm, laughter filling the air as they eagerly try to take the lead.

For a planet on the cusp of supposed doom, they sure are cheerful.

“It’s certainly tranquil here,” you murmur.

“Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving?” Mark questions, looking around. “What about the meteors?”

“Meteors? What meteors?”

You and Mark stop walking, and blankly stare at the Thraxan.

“The ones that are killing billions?”

“Ah, those meteors! Must be a touch of dementia, we age much quicker than you humans, you know! Don’t worry, the monarch will explain all!”

You and Mark exchange a look.

“Bro.”

Finally making your way in the Monarch’s abode, the outer-worldly architecture now filling up your camera’s gallery, you notice Mark softening at the serene aura encompassing your surroundings.

Approaching a grand and very red staircase, you observe what must be a throne like area above.

“Your Majesty,” the alien beckons making way for you, three Thraxans turning to look down at your party. “May I present Invincible and Singularity of Earth.”

You and Mark take a kneel, awkwardly lowering your heads in respect.

The Thraxans part, and your hear heavy footsteps sound against the floor. The ruler.

“Hello, kids,” A warm and agonizingly familiar voice greets.

Mark gasps and jolts up but you keep your head down for a second before slowly lifting your head up.

Your father, with his hand outstretched, smiles down at you two, “It’s been a while.”

“…Dad?”

You pull off your mask, letting it fell to the floor.

“Dad?” You call, as your brother clenches his fists next to you, breath shuttering, “Dad!”

You fly to embrace him, tears burning your eyes. He catches you, like he always does, strong arms wrapping around your form, bring a hand up to cradle your head that’s buried against his shoulder. You hear his heartbeat thump, slow and calm. You can almost pretend things are normal again.

“I…missed you two,” he admits.

Mark shouts your name, a thunder you’ve never heard in his voice before. The spectating Thraxans flinch, as Mark rips off his mask, approaching you with measured steps, grabbing you by the arm to pull you away and behind him as he stares down your father.

“This was all you? Bringing us here?” He grits out, “The Thraxans told us they needed help, but that was another one of your lies?”

“They do need your help,” your dad responds.

“Why?” He squeezes out, his grip on your arm tightening.

“It’s complicated. Come with me—“

“No, WHY did you lie to us again?” Your brother’s glare hardens, “You killed thousands of people. You nearly killed your own daughter after scaring her into silence! Who knows what else you did to her! You stuck a hand through her, like—-like she was nothing!”

You bite your lip, “Mark—“

“Why would you think we would ever want to see you again? That you would even deserve it. You called mom a pet,” his voice breaks.

“You broke her heart,” you whisper, backing away.

Your dad calls your names, “I need your help—“

Mark sighs, tired, before gesturing to the aliens standing behind your father, “And you made them lie to us?”

“Just listen—“

“I don’t need to listen to anything you say,” he retorts, turning away and pulling you with him.

“Look, I made a mistake. I thought about you two every day—“

“A mistake!?” Mark shouts, twisting around to face your father.

“Son—“

“No, you don’t get to call me that anymore!”

“What do you want me to say?” Your father looks defeated.

“You could have started with ‘I’m sorry’!”

A moment of silence passes over you.

“You know what? Don’t bother, alright? It wouldn’t mean anything anyways. I hope you like it here with your new friends,” Mark asserted, “Guess they don’t know you the way we do.”

You breathe out, “We can’t go back to how things were, dad. Not after everything.”

You follow Mark as he makes to leave, the latter glancing behind him.

“Fuck you.” Were his final words before you two took off into the sky.

You hear your father follow.

“You’ll never make it back on your own. It’s millions of miles, and you don’t know the way. Navigation was neither of yours strong suit. Come back, and we’ll talk,” your father explained, “Please.”

“And what are you going to do if we don’t? Knock out all my teeth again? Strand her in another planet with you to make a point?” he asks venomously, gesturing towards you before speeding up, you and your father following.

“I’ll get you a ship home, but there’s something you need to see first.” Your father bargains.

“No,” Mark refuses.

“Nol’Zak wasn’t lying to you, his people do need your help. Let me tell you why.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know that’s not true,” your father refutes.

“Mark,” you speak up, “If we leave now, we could risk being stranded for years or even forever without a way home. Let’s just help this planet and we can go home.”

Your brother slows to a stop with you, “Five minutes. For them, not you.”

He descends back down. You and your father hover for a moment.

“Dad,” you speak up, “If you try to do anything to Mark, I won’t hesitate this time.”

“I know.”

“So, you conquered this place, instead of Earth?” Mark notes.

“I didn’t conquer this planet, the Thraxans asked me to be their emperor.” Your father rebuffs, leading you through the palace halls before stopping at a door.

“Conqueror, emperor, what’s the difference?” Your brother mumbles.

“Consent, I guess?” You answer as you three enter a pastel coloured room, a lone female Thraxan standing within.

You and Mark watch in horror as your father… tongues her. You tried to step out of the room, but your back meets the door that closed automatically, the traitor.

The Thraxan turns to warmly greet you two, your father’s arm on her waist, oblivious to the looks on your faces, “Welcome to our home, my husband’s told me so much about you two.”

“Andressa,” your father near chides.

“What the fuck is going on,” Mark whispers, a second away from bursting.

With your back still against the door, you slowly slide down until you’re sitting on your knees.

“Did I mispeak?” Your stepmother asks as your father silently gestures for her to give you some space.

“I know this comes as a surprise—“

Your brother immediately interrupts him, “No shit, we’re surprised! What about mom?”

“I can’t go back to Earth, Mark. Not ever. That life is over.”

You and Mark stare at him, hurt, before your brother scoffs, “Alright, you’re all done with Earth. Super glad you got to show us how great your life is without us!”

You rise to your feet, “She’s still mourning you, beating herself up for not seeing you for what you really are, and you just—start over?”

You shake your head before moving a hand against the door to try to open it, Mark following behind you.

“That’s not what I wanted to show you.”

You bump your head against the door. “Fucking seriously…”

Mark whips around, “What else could you possibly mean—“

Nothing could prepare you for the sight of your dad holding a purple, but very human—-no, Viltrumite looking baby, his wife proudly at his side.

“Who is that?” Mark asks, denial etched on his face as you slowly raise your camera.

“This is your little brother,” your father introduces.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Your brother explodes as your shutter goes off, before turning to you, “Sis, what the fuck!?”

“Instinct,” you say, a little shellshocked, blankly staring at the trio in front of you.

You stare as your…new little brother coos, cradled to his mother’s chest. Mark continues to berate your father, who explains that Thraxans ages faster than humans, which is why he’s so big for what should be a newborn.

Mark shakes your shoulder before pointing at your dad, “Are you even paying attention!? He literally—-with a grasshopper! Say something!”

“He kinda looks like you,” you observe, “When you were that young.”

He stares at you incredulously.

Debbie: Who’s the father!?

Singularity, holding baby Oliver: The better question is ‘who’s the mother?’

Debbie: Oh, honey, I’ve always known—

Singularity: Excuse me?

Mark: Yeah, things are looking up, I think.

Donald: The Graysons are back on Earth, but Singularity seems to have a purple baby??

Cecil: The kid has a kid now? They’ve only been gone for two months!

Donald: That’s what Debbie seems to be saying right now, at least. Well, we don’t have any information on how pregnancy works for female Viltrumites—

Cecil: Listen in!

Mark: I can’t believe the last thing he says to us is to read his books—

Singularity: Huh?

Mark: You were passed out, and what books??

Singularity: …is Space Rider real?

Singularity: If anything happens to this baby, I will actually end it

Mark: You got a lot of nice photos when we weren’t being beaten to death.

Singularity: Yeah, I’ll probably get a decent amount for them, Thraxa is a pretty place.

Mark: What are you going to tell them when they ask where the photos are from?

Singularity: That’s the neat thing; I won’t.

Mark:

Lol, Singularity took a family photo for Nolan, instinct from doing baby showers and family photos as a freelancer…

Yes, we do see some canon divergence here with Mark being abrasive with Omni-man from the start! He literally saw his dad stick a hand through his sister’s stomach and then found out their dynamic was a lot more harmful than he could have ever known! Mark seems to hold Nolan’s actions towards others against him more than his own pain.

And, have you noticed a pattern where sometimes the eldest child will be the nicest/most forgiving to bad parents while the younger one is more unhinged? I’m the younger sibling hehe

I would describe Mark’s weakness to be his inexperience while Singularity’s weakness is because of her experience, being unable to handle violence and responsibility, starting out as a hero at such a young age. If she were a computer, she’d have really good hardware that could run Elden Ring without overheating but software from the 2000s.

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

#invincible x reader #invincible imagine #mark grayson & reader #nolan grayson & reader #debbie grayson & reader #oliver grayson & reader #viltrumite #platonic reader #sister reader

73 notes · View notes

realtapiocafan · 19 hours ago

Text

My personal timeline of the GQ Bowl!

1. Joe calling Ja'Marr right after the show ended ("where are you"):

2. Joe finally sees Ja'Marr and drops his phone (note that it is in his left hand):

3. Joe and Ja'Marr stare and smile fondly at each other (staring like this 🥹 at each other)

They also probably chat for a while (read: ja'marr yapping as joe continues to nod with that achingly fond gaze, completely locked into ja'marr)

4. But thenJustin suddenly calls Joe and begs him to come to another event ("Joe, please I don't have anyone to go with PLEASE") (you can see that he has switched his phone to the right hand)

Meanwhile Ja'Marr spots someone else he knows and hugs them since Joe is busy calling:

INTERLUDE: Joe tells Ja'Marr about Justin's pleas, but Ja'Marr sadly cannot leave because he just walked the carpet for GQ so now he has to Socialize and thank everyone and take pictures and shit

5. Joe has traveled to Justin's event, and is at first still a little closed off, hands in pockets and all (a little sad about being separated). However! It is Justin. Joe eventually starts smiling bc who can resist smiling in Justin's presence? 😍

5b. Ja'Marr, still at the GQ, is still sulking over being alone, but he does not have a Justin to cheer him up. Therefore all his pictures are with a very straight face and hands in pockets (maybe the first one he's watching joe leave?)

6. (Crossing into pure imagination here)

Ja'Marr calls Joe once the GQ event is done and by then, Joe's social battery is like completely drained. He still tries to say he's fine (bc ofc he does <3) but Justin interrupts to say that Joe's dead tired and would Ja'Marr get his ass over here and pick them up.

So Ja'Marr picks up Joe and Justin (ik he was driving around with a chaffeur to another event -i'll find it if someone asks). And since Ja'Marr probably owns a house since NOLA is his hometown, all three of them go to Ja'Marr's house and crash for the night!

THE END

#jazz hands #this is what i /choose/ to believe!#me: THE DOTS I'VE CONNECTED THE DOTS #(the dots being photos i've sorted in probably-not chronological order)#yes i'm delusional what about it #ja'marr chase #joe burrow #justin jefferson #joemarr #joemarrjj #lmk what YOU think happened!#i adore that we're all desperately trying to match these pieces up and create a timeline <3

74 notes · View notes

inkspiredwriting · 2 days ago

Text

Candlelight Confessions

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The sudden flicker and then the complete darkness caught Five Hargreeves and Y/n off guard as they were finishing dinner in their cozy home. The hum of the refrigerator died, and the glow of the overhead lights vanished, leaving them in a silence only broken by the rustling of leaves outside and the distant roll of thunder.

Five groaned softly, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like the storm knocked the power out.”

Y/n, her eyes sparkling even in the dim light, shrugged playfully. “Well, it’s not the first time we’ve dealt with a blackout.”

Five smirked, reaching for a candle on the table. “When we ended up dancing together without music, just a room full of candles and the two of us.”

Y/n giggled, nodding. “Exactly. You have to admit, you’re quite the dancer when you want to be.”

As Five fumbled for the lighter, Y/n found her phone and used the flashlight to help him light the candles scattered around their home. Soon, a warm, flickering glow filled the room, casting long shadows on the walls and giving the space an intimate ambiance.

“See?” Y/n said, setting her phone down. “This is kind of romantic, don’t you think?”

Five grinned, pulling her into a hug. “Leave it to you to make a power outage romantic.”

They settled on the couch, a soft blanket draped over their laps, the candles flickering around them like tiny stars. Five glanced at the window, the rain tapping gently against the glass.

“So, what should we do to pass the time?” he asked, leaning back and stretching his legs out.

Y/n tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “How about we tell each other stories? Childhood memories, maybe. Things we haven’t shared before.”

Five raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You want to dive into the nostalgia pool, huh? Alright, you start.”

Y/n smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay, let’s see. When I was six, my family took a trip to the beach. I remember building this huge sandcastle. I spent the entire day working on it, imagining it as a grand fortress.”

Five’s eyes softened as he watched her, captivated by the glow of the candlelight on her face. “What happened to the sandcastle?”

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “A big wave came and swept it all away. I was devastated at first, but then my dad helped me build another one. He said, ‘Sometimes things get washed away, but that just means you get to start fresh and make something even better.’”

Five nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Your dad sounds like a wise man.”

“He is,” Y/n said softly. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me something from your childhood.”

Five sighed, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling as he thought. “Alright. When I was around eight, before I got pulled into the apocalypse mess, I used to sneak into Reginald’s study. He had all these old books about time travel and science. I’d sit there for hours, just reading and imagining all the places I could go.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you were into time travel even back then.”

Five chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I was always fascinated by the idea of bending time to my will. But the funny part is, I once tried to build a time machine out of cardboard boxes and kitchen utensils. I was convinced it would work.”

Y/n laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I wish I could’ve seen that. Did it work?”

Five shook his head, grinning. “Not even close. But it taught me to keep experimenting, to never give up on the things that intrigued me.”

They shared more stories, each memory painting a picture of who they were and how far they had come. As the evening wore on, the flickering candles casting a soft glow around them, they found themselves inching closer, the warmth of their shared history wrapping around them like a comforting embrace.

After a particularly funny story about Five trying to impress a girl at Griddy's Doughnuts with a poorly executed magic trick that Klaus had taught him, Y/n leaned in, her laughter fading into a tender smile. “You know, Five, I love hearing these stories about you. It makes me feel even closer to you.”

Five reached out, taking her hand in his, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “I feel the same way. It’s like we’re weaving our pasts together, creating something even stronger.”

Y/n’s eyes shimmered with emotion, and she squeezed his hand. “Promise me something, Five.”

“Anything,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always be there for each other. Through every blackout, every storm, every unexpected twist in our lives.”

Five’s gaze locked onto hers, a fierce determination burning in his eyes. “I promise, Y/n. I’ll always be there for you. I’ll love you through every moment, no matter how dark or challenging.”

Y/n’s smile was radiant, and she leaned in to kiss him softly, the warmth of his lips grounding her in the promise they had made. “And I promise to always stand by you, Five. No matter where time takes us.”

They sat in the quiet glow of the candlelight, their hands intertwined, feeling the strength of their bond deepen with every shared story and whispered promise. As the storm outside began to wane and the first hints of power flickered back to life, Five and Y/n remained on the couch, wrapped in the glow of their memories and the certainty of their love, ready to face every blackout together.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot #five hargreeves

34 notes · View notes

frozenmxngo · 1 day ago

Text

✧*̥˚ In Between the Lines | Choi Beomgyu *̥˚✧ pt. 2

✧ beomgyu x selective mutism fem!reader ✧ part two, word count 12.6k ✧ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. ✧ warnings: panic attacks, social anxiety, mute!reader, swearing, angst, verbal abuse, eventual smut, virgin!reader, slow burn?, trauma, fluff, a bit of self-hatred (let me know if i missed anything! i’ll add more tags for each part as needed)

✧ an: so sorry for the delay in getting this part out!! it’s been such a busy week! the next part should be out much sooner than this one. thank you!!

MASTERLIST « previous - next »

Jiwon shifts the car into park but doesn’t move to get out, slumping back in her seat with a dramatic groan.

"I don’t wanna leave—it’s too warm in here."

Y/N glances at her, amused, as she adjusts the scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Outside, the late fall air is crisp, biting at the windows, but inside the car, the heater hums softly, wrapping them in a comfortable warmth.

Jiwon turns her head, eyeing Y/N’s outfit with clear disapproval. “Are you seriously wearing that?” She gestures at Y/N’s lightweight jacket. “It’s freezing.”

Y/N tugs at her scarf in response, as if to prove a point.

Jiwon scoffs. “Oh, right. A scarf. That’ll totally keep you from freezing to death.” She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “Not my problem when you get sick.”

Despite her complaints, she doesn’t open the door. Neither does Y/N. The cold can wait.

Jiwon exhales, watching the windows slowly fog up around the edges. "You know," she muses, stretching her hands toward the vents as if savoring the last bit of warmth, "We could just sit here forever. Never leave. Live off drive-thru coffee and—” she glances at Y/N’s lap, “—whatever snacks you’ve got stashed in your bag.”

Y/N raises a brow, shifting her tote closer like she’s protecting its contents.

Jiwon snorts. “Yeah, okay, maybe not the best long-term plan.” She stares out at the shop’s glowing windows, then groans. “Alright, let’s do this before I change my mind.”

Jiwon finally shuts off the engine with a dramatic sigh, the warm air from the vents fading almost instantly. Shoving the car door open, she’s immediately met with a gust of cold wind, making her pull her coat tighter around herself. "I swear, winter’s creeping up earlier every year," she mutters.

Y/N tucks her chin into her scarf as she follows, her breath visible in the brisk air. Her steps quickened not wanting to be in the cold anymore. The shop's exterior is a little worn, the old wooden sign swinging slightly from the breeze. A warm glow spills out from the large display window, casting a soft light over an assortment of vintage trinkets and aged books.

The moment they step inside, a bell chimes overhead, and the scent of old paper, polished wood, and something vaguely floral greets them. The warmth is instant, a stark contrast to the chilly air outside.

“Oh, this place is so cool,” Jiwon whispers, even though there’s no reason to be quiet. She’s already scanning the shelves, her eyes flicking over each item with barely contained excitement.

Y/N simply nods, her fingers brushing over the spines of a few worn books on a nearby shelf. She likes places like this—quiet, filled with history. Jiwon is already a few steps ahead, eyes darting eagerly over the shelves. “God, I love this. Everything feels like it has a story, you know?” She reaches for an ornate picture frame, tilting it in her hands before wrinkling her nose. “Okay, but some of this stuff definitely looks haunted.” Y/N huffs out a quiet laugh, trailing behind her. Trinkets, books, and vintage furniture are stacked in organized chaos, making it easy to get lost in the maze of shelves and displays.

Jiwon picks up a tiny porcelain cat figurine and grins. “This looks like you.”

Y/N tilts her head, taking in the tiny, wide-eyed cat with its little paws tucked under its chest. She quirks a brow but doesn’t disagree.

Jiwon chuckles and sets it back down before moving deeper into the store. “I’m looking for something cool for my apartment. Help me look.”

Y/N follows, her fingers trailing absentmindedly over an antique jewelry box, the cool metal intricate beneath her touch. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she pulls it out to see a new message.

Beomgyu: Hope you’re staying warm and safe out there. It’s freezing today Beomgyu: (:

Y/N hesitates, thumb hovering over the screen. She doesn’t know why, but a small smile tugs at her lips. Y/N: I am! I hope you are too?? Jiwon suddenly appears in front of her, grinning as she holds up an old wristwatch with a cracked leather band. "What do you think? Vintage chic or just plain busted?" she asks, spinning it around her finger.

Y/N quickly locks her phone and slips it into her pocket before Jiwon can catch on. She leans in slightly, pretending to inspect the watch with a thoughtful expression, buying herself a moment to dodge the inevitable teasing.

"You could probably get a new strap for it… I think it’s cute," Y/N murmurs to Jiwon. Jiwon smiles softly, nodding as she turns the watch over in her hands. “Yeah, you’re right. A new strap would fix it up.”

She doesn’t comment on Y/N speaking—she never does. The last thing she wants is to make her friend self-conscious. Instead, she just gives a small, approving nod before carefully setting the watch back down.

“Alright, let’s keep looking. I bet there’s something weird and amazing hidden in here somewhere,” Jiwon says, eyes already scanning the shelves with excitement.

Y/N tilts her head slightly as Jiwon sets the watch back down. “Oh… you don’t want it?” she asks quietly.

Jiwon just smiles, giving a small shake of her head before moving on. She does this all the time—picking things up, admiring them for a moment, then setting them aside like she was never interested in the first place.

Y/N follows, tucking her hands into her sleeves. Just before she turns away, her gaze lingers on the watch—just for a moment, as if committing it to memory. It was a cute watch. Jiwon leads the way, weaving through narrow aisles packed with old furniture, faded paintings, and shelves lined with knickknacks from decades past. She picks up a porcelain doll with frizzy hair and exaggerated eyes, turning it toward Y/N with a mischievous grin.

“This thing is definitely haunted,” she says, wiggling it slightly for effect.

Y/N eyes the doll warily before glancing at Jiwon with a raised brow. “Are you going to pick everything up and say it’s haunted?”

Jiwon gasps dramatically and clutches the doll to her chest.“Excuse me, but I have a very keen sixth sense for cursed objects.”

Y/N just shakes her head as Jiwon laughs, setting the doll down before moving toward another display. They pass by a collection of antique cameras, their metal bodies worn but still holding a certain charm. Jiwon snaps an imaginary photo at Y/N with her fingers. "Imagine how many embarrassing pictures these things must've taken," she muses. "Like, someone's great-grandpa probably had a secret stash of goofy photos, and now they’re just... lost in time."

Y/N hums in quiet agreement, her fingers brushing over the wooden frame of an old radio. The dials are rusted, and she wonders if it still works.

Jiwon’s grin turns wicked, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or maybe some sexy ones,” she wiggles her eyebrows.

Y/N’s face immediately turns red, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks. She quickly looks away, trying to shake off the thought. “Don’t be weird,” she mutters under her breath.

Jiwon laughs, clearly enjoying the effect she has on her friend, before moving on to browse more items, leaving Y/N to hide her flustered expression.

Further into the store, Jiwon stops at a glass case of jewelry—tarnished rings, delicate lockets, and brooches adorned with tiny painted portraits. Y/N steps closer, her eyes following Jiwon’s gaze to the delicate items displayed inside the case. She runs her fingers lightly over the glass, admiring the soft glow of the tarnished rings and the intricate designs on the brooches. “They all look so... old,” Y/N says quietly, her voice almost lost in the hum of the store’s ambient noise.

Jiwon chuckles, her fingers tracing the outline of a small locket. “That’s the charm of it. Things have stories, you know? I bet these pieces have been passed down through generations.”

Y/N moves her face closer to the glass, studying the locket Jiwon is eyeing. “Do you think anyone ever knew the stories behind them?”

Jiwon grins, her eyes gleaming. “Maybe some, maybe none. But the mystery is part of the fun.” Y/N smiles faintly, the thought of those small, forgotten moments lingering in her mind. There's something comforting about the idea that these objects once held meaning for someone—somewhere, at some point.

They wander further into the store, where Jiwon suddenly stops in front of a display of vintage lamps. The soft glow from the glass shades catches her attention, and she leans in, inspecting one of the lamps with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve been looking for something like this for my apartment,” she says, running her fingers over the smooth surface. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

Y/N nods in agreement, glancing over at the lamp with a soft smile. Jiwon’s taste was always a bit more adventurous than her own, but she could see why this one appealed to her.

The sudden buzz of her phone interrupts her thoughts. She pulls it out, her fingers brushing against the screen as Beomgyu’s message pops up.

Beomgyu: I am! I’m staying inside today. What are your plans?

Y/N types her response quickly, then hits send.

Y/N: Just out with my friend at an antique store

She glances up from her phone to see Jiwon picking up another lamp, her eyes lit up with excitement. Y/N watches her for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. Beomgyu: Was her name Jiwon?

He remembers Y/N mentioning her best friend in passing during their chat at the library. He just wanted to confirm. Y/N’s eyes linger on the message, her heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. He remembered. The thought settles warmly in her chest, pulling a soft smile to her lips She doesn’t hesitate this time as she types her reply. Y/N: Yes~! Y/N pauses for a moment, biting her lip as she thinks about what else to say. She wants to keep the conversation going but doesn’t want to overthink it.Y/N: It’s nice to get out of the house for a bit. What about you? What’s your day looking like? Jiwon watches Y/N from the corner of her eye, a soft smile playing on her lips as she notices how at ease she looks while texting. It's subtle, but Jiwon is genuinely happy that her friend is reaching out and talking to people outside of their little circle.

Y/N, oblivious to Jiwon’s quiet approval, glances at her phone one last time before slipping it back into her pocket. She’s not quite sure what to make of the conversation, but there's a warmth in her chest—something she hasn’t felt in a while.

The store feels quieter now, the moment hanging between them. Y/N looks at the lamps again, but the thought of her conversation with Beomgyu lingers in the back of her mind, making her smile faintly. Jiwon picks up a lamp with a light green, smooth glass base that mimics the soft curves of a flower’s stem. The base transitions into a delicate, clear glass shade at the top, shaped like a flared tulip. The edges of the shade are gently kissed with subtle gold accents, giving it a touch of elegance. When the light flickers on, the soft glow illuminates the lamp, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

“This is perfect,” Jiwon says, her eyes lighting up as she cradles the lamp carefully. “It’ll look great in my apartment.”

Y/N smiles, admiring how the lamp seems to reflect Jiwon’s style—gentle, refined, and a little whimsical. She watches as Jiwon heads toward the counter to check out, still holding the lamp with a proud grin.

As the two stood at the counter, Jiwon flashed the old woman a quick smile. “One second, please,” she said, before hurrying off toward the area where she’d seen the wristwatch earlier.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering around the small store. The old woman behind the counter eyed her for a moment before speaking up with a forced smile. “It’s always nice to see someone appreciate the old things,” she said, trying to break the silence.

Y/N offered a polite nod, not sure what to say, but the old woman’s smile faltered slightly. She cleared her throat, giving a soft sigh as she added, “Not much of a talker, are you?”

The words stung more than Y/N had expected, and she quickly looked away, her face heating up. The old woman seemed to notice the awkwardness but didn’t press further. Instead, she just returned to her task, a quiet tension settling in the air as Y/N waited for Jiwon to return. Jiwon returned moments later, holding the watch in her hands with a pleased grin. She placed it on the counter, making a show of glancing at Y/N with a playful glint in her eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she said, looking at the old woman. “I’ll take this as well, please.”

The old woman gave a half-smile as she began to ring it up, her eyes flickering over to Y/N one more time before turning her attention back to Jiwon. Y/N could tell the woman was still a little put off by her silence, but Jiwon didn’t seem to notice, lost in her excitement over the watch and lamp.

Y/N stayed quiet, her hands tucked into her sleeves as she watched the exchange. She felt a little out of place, standing there while Jiwon and the old woman spoke, but she didn’t mind. She was used to moments like these, where she just let the world pass by without having to contribute too much.

Jiwon turned to her with a mischievous grin as the woman handed over the bag. “You ready to go?” Her voice was light and warm.

Y/N smiled shyly, nodding her head yes.

With the watch and lamp safely in a paper bag, Jiwon led the way out of the shop, the doorbell chiming softly as they stepped into the crisp air once again. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as the cold hit her, the sudden contrast from the warmth of the store. The car, now parked for a while, was freezing inside. The leather seats felt cool and unwelcoming as Y/N slid into the passenger seat, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.

Jiwon climbed in, shivering a little as she started the engine. “Ugh, I need it to be summer right now,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together. She adjusted the heater, and the car began to warm up slowly, the chill gradually easing. After another sigh, Jiwon began to pull out of the parking lot and drive to her apartment. Y/N glanced out the window, watching the city streets blur past them. The warmth of the antique shop had faded quickly, replaced by the biting cold that clung to her even inside the car. She tucked her hands into her sleeves, shivering slightly.

Jiwon shot her a knowing look. "It’s freezing now, huh? We were in there forever." She cranked up the heat, taking her hands off the steering wheel, rubbing her hands together for a few seconds. "You’re gonna love my apartment, it looks way different from last time you’ve seen it. It’s a little messy, but it’s cozy, and I made sure to stock up on snacks for tonight."

Y/N offered a small smile.

The drive was peaceful, the city lights casting a soft glow through the windshield. The hum of the engine mixed with the occasional murmur of the radio, creating a quiet that felt comfortable rather than empty. By the time they reached Jiwon’s building, the car had finally warmed up, making it even harder to step back into the cold.

The wind nipped at their cheeks as they hurried inside, climbing the stairs to Jiwon’s apartment. It was just as Y/N remembered—scattered books, mismatched throw blankets, and walls covered in photos and art. The space felt lived-in, warm in a way that made it easy to relax. The only difference was the fact that there was more decor scattered around.

Jiwon placed the bag onto the coffee table before peeling off her coat. "Make yourself at home," she said, already moving toward the kitchen. "You want tea or something?"

Y/N settled onto the couch, letting out a quiet breath. "Tea sounds good."

As Jiwon busied herself in the kitchen, Y/N realized she hadn’t checked her phone since last texting Beomgyu. Fishing it out of her pocket, she glanced at the notifications on her lock screen.

Beomgyu: Probably just hanging out with my roommate, destroying him in video games as usual lol Beomgyu: You got plans after shopping? Beomgyu: Update… he’s officially the worst. It’s almost too easy

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. She quickly unlocked her phone to type a reply.

Y/N: Loll glad you're having fun humbling him. Y/N: I’m just having a sleepover with Jiwon tonight.

The apartment was calm, the soft clinking of mugs and the distant hum of the kettle filling the space. Jiwon returned from the kitchen, handing Y/N a warm mug before settling onto the couch beside her. “Chamomile tea,” she said, taking a sip of her own. “It felt like the right choice.”

Y/N held the cup between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. She eyed Jiwon skeptically. “Doesn’t chamomile make you sleepy? I thought we were supposed to stay up all night… This might be a challenge for me, considering I already fall asleep easily.”

Jiwon snorted. “Okay, maybe I didn’t think that through. But hey, at least we’ll be relaxed.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed again beside her. She glanced down and saw Beomgyu’s name on the screen.

Beomgyu: Honestly, my roommate might need a few pointers at this rate Beomgyu: What are you guys up to now?

A small smile tugged at her lips once more as she typed back.

Y/N: Just got to Jiwon’s place. Probably picking a movie soon.

As she hit send, she noticed Jiwon watching her over the rim of her mug, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“You’ve been on your phone a lot,” Jiwon remarked casually, setting her drink down.

Y/N hesitated, then placed her phone beside her. “…It’s just Beomgyu.” Jiwon raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Just Beomgyu?” she echoed, drawing out the word as she set her mug down. “You don’t text anyone back this fast, not even me.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it, feeling her face warm.

Jiwon gasped, eyes twinkling. “Oh my god. You like talking to him.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Stop.”

“I knew it!” Jiwon clapped her hands together in triumph. “This is so cute. My best friend, texting a cute boy, smiling at her phone…” She sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch like this was the greatest revelation of the year.

Y/N peeked at her through her fingers, shaking her head, but she couldn’t fight the small smile on her lips. With a sigh, she lowered her hands to her lap and mumbled, “How did you even know he was cute?”

Jiwon grinned. “I do now.”

Y/N’s face burned even hotter as Jiwon burst into laughter.

Jiwon’s laughter finally faded as she took another sip of her tea, though the amused glint in her eyes remained. She nudged Y/N’s foot with her own. “Alright, alright, I’ll back off… for now.”

But just as Y/N started to relax, Jiwon smirked. “But—if you ever need help picking out a cute outfit for a date, I better be the first person you call.” Y/N groaned softly, dropping her head back against the couch. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Jiwon grinned. “Nope. That’s what best friends are for.” She reached for the remote, flipping through movie options. “Now, before you turn into a puddle of embarrassment, let’s pick a movie. Horror or rom-com?”

Y/N gave her a look. “Those are very different moods.”

Jiwon shrugged. “Yeah, but I could go for either. Something scary to keep us awake, or something ridiculously cheesy so I can make fun of it the whole time.”

Y/N tucked her legs beneath her, glancing at the screen as Jiwon scrolled through the options. “Let’s just pick something already.”

Jiwon smirked. “Impatient, huh? Alright, horror it is.” She clicked on a movie without hesitation. “This one’s supposed to be terrifying. Hope you don’t regret it.”

Y/N pulled a blanket over her lap. “Doubt it.”

As the movie started, the dim lighting in the apartment made the eerie atmosphere even more intense. The occasional sound of the wind outside only added to the effect. For the most part, Y/N stayed quiet, while Jiwon reacted to every tense moment—gasping, groaning, and muttering under her breath when a character made a dumb decision.

Then, a sudden jump scare made them both flinch.

Jiwon immediately grabbed Y/N’s arm, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Okay, I take it back. Maybe we should’ve gone with the cheesy rom-com.”

Y/N shook her head, biting back a smile.

Jiwon sighed in defeat, but she didn’t let go of Y/N’s arm as she settled back against the couch. “Fine. But if I have nightmares, you’re staying up with me.”

Y/N just nudged her lightly, focusing back on the screen. Despite the lingering tension of the movie, there was something comforting about sitting here like this—warm, safe, and completely at ease.

The library was quiet except for the low murmur of other students working, mixing with the occasional rustle of pages. Beomgyu had been trying to focus on the textbook in front of him, but his mind kept wandering. His eyes kept drifting toward Y/N, who sat across from him, completely engrossed in her reading. She was so calm, her focus unwavering as she flipped through the pages of her textbook.

Beomgyu was usually a strong student in psychology, but tonight he couldn’t concentrate. The steady rhythm of her pen as she highlighted key sections of the text was oddly soothing, and he found himself getting caught up in the way she moved, the way she seemed so perfectly in control of everything.

He shook his head and tried to refocus, but the words on the page started blurring again. It was frustrating. He wasn’t used to being distracted like this.

Finally, after several minutes of futile attempts to concentrate, he let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He glanced at her again, his curiosity getting the better of him. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and there was a small, faint smile playing on her lips as she jotted something down in her notebook.

He couldn’t help it—he just had to know.

“Are you struggling with this section too, or is it just me?” Beomgyu asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set down her pen, opened her notebook, and quickly scribbled something in her neat handwriting. She slid the notebook across the table toward him without a word.

Beomgyu picked it up, reading the message she’d written.

It’s a bit confusing, but I think the key is focusing on the major theories first. He smiled, grateful for her help. “Yeah, I was getting caught up in all the little details,” he said softly, glancing over at her. She looked up for a moment, meeting his eyes briefly before returning to her work, and Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in his chest. For the next few minutes, he tried to focus again. Beomgyu’s eyes flicked between the multiple-choice questions and Y/N. His pen hovered over the page as his mind wandered. The questions were easy, but it was hard to focus when she was sitting across from him. He could hear his own thoughts growing louder in his head, frustrated at how easily he was being distracted.

Finally, after a long pause, he asked, "What do you think about the multiple-choice questions?"

Y/N didn’t respond with words. Instead, she stood up, her movements smooth and deliberate as she walked over to him and sat down beside him. It would be easier to work on the questions together if they were sitting right next to each other. Beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat at how close she was now. She smelled light and fresh—something faint but calming—and it made it even harder for him to focus. Beomgyu swallowed, trying to ignore the way his heart raced at the proximity. He tried to focus on the homework again, but with Y/N sitting so close now, the words on the page seemed to blur into mush.

After a moment of trying to focus, Beomgyu asked, "What do you think about number five? I keep going back and forth on it.”

Y/N wrote something quickly in her notebook and then slid it over to him. Beomgyu leaned in slightly to read her answer. His breath caught when he realized how close they were—his shoulder brushing hers, their arms almost touching. It made his heart race.

He nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re probably right,” he murmured. “I guess I’m just overthinking it.”

Y/N didn’t reply, but she gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile before returning to her work. Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in his chest. Something about the way she interacted with him—quiet but still so present.

For a moment, he just watched her, his mind caught between wanting to say something and the sudden wave of nerves that had settled in his stomach. He was usually confident around anyone—he never had trouble striking up conversations—but for some reason, this felt different. His usual confidence was slipping away. The more he tried to think of something to say, the more nervous he felt. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but he was beginning to wonder why he was suddenly acting like this around her.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask her about the weekend—maybe invite her to grab a bite to eat—but the words didn’t come. He closed his mouth and immediately regretted it, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck.

Just as he was about to chicken out entirely, Y/N wrote something in her notebook and slid it toward him. He blinked at the words she had written. Number six is confusing me... Is it B or C? He was momentarily relieved by the shift in focus. She needed help with a question, not a complicated invitation. He looked over the question, his mind grounding itself in something familiar. “Ah, okay, I see what you’re thinking. It’s C,” he said, pointing to the answer. “You’re probably getting caught up in the wording, but trust me on this one.” Y/N nodded as she wrote a quick “Thanks” and returned her focus to the paper. Beomgyu couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. It was simple, this moment—just helping her out—but it felt oddly… comforting. Even though his nerves were still buzzing under the surface, he was thankful for the small connection. They spent a while in quiet focus, only the sound of pens scratching on paper and the occasional shuffle of pages filling the air. Beomgyu found himself getting more into the homework as they worked together, though his attention still wandered toward Y/N from time to time. Her concentration was captivating; she’d pause every now and then to jot something down in her notebook or glance at him for a brief moment, but she never seemed rushed. There was a calmness about her that made everything feel... easier. Even the homework.

Every so often, Beomgyu would ask her if she was okay with a particular question or if she needed help with anything. Her response would always come in the form of a few words written neatly in her notebook or nodding. They worked well together, silently communicating as they made their way through the pages, and somehow, the time slipped by without either of them noticing.

By the time they finished, Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a quiet groan. “Man, that took way longer than I thought,” he muttered, glancing over at Y/N. “I think I might’ve over complicated some of those answers.”

Y/N didn't speak, but she gave a small smile, the kind that didn’t require any words to understand. Beomgyu felt his chest warm at the sight of it, and for a moment, everything just felt… simple. It felt right. They’d been sitting together like this for a while now, the distance between them comfortable, not awkward. It was as if they didn’t need to fill every silence with words—there was something just as meaningful in the quiet.

He looked down at his notebook, fingers tapping on the edge of the page as he tried to gather the courage. His heart still beat a little too fast, his words feeling a little too heavy in his mouth. Normally, Beomgyu didn’t hesitate to ask anyone to hang out, but there was something different about asking Y/N. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Finally, after a beat of silence, he turned to her again, his voice a little less steady than he intended. “Hey,” he started, trying to sound casual, “I was thinking of hanging out with Taehyun this weekend. Would you like to join us? I don’t know, maybe grab something to eat or do something fun? No pressure or anything, just thought it might be nice.”

He immediately regretted the way the words came out. He hadn’t meant to sound so unsure. Beomgyu didn’t get nervous about asking people to hang out, but something about her sitting so close, had him second-guessing himself. His mind was racing. Why did I mention Taehyun? Beomgyu's stomach twisted slightly. He wondered if it might make things awkward, or if the idea of hanging out with two guys might overwhelm her. Maybe she’d feel uncomfortable with a group. He quickly pushed the thoughts aside, not wanting to overthink it. He waited for her response, he glanced at her, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table. Y/N hesitated, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her notebook. She felt her face flush, warmth spreading through her cheeks as she tried to calm her racing heart. The thought of spending more time with Beomgyu was exciting but also made her self-conscious. After a few seconds of internal debate, she grabbed her notebook and scribbled her answer quickly, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. Her handwriting was a bit messier than usual, the nerves making her pen waver slightly across the paper.

I work until 2 pm on Saturday, but I would like to.

She held her breath for a moment, watching as Beomgyu’s gaze flickered from her words to her face. His eyes softened, and for a brief second, she caught a glimpse of surprise in them. She hadn’t expected him to react that way, but she couldn’t help the small rush of pride that swelled inside her, knowing she’d said yes.

Beomgyu blinked, and for a split second, seemed lost in his own thoughts. Then, his smile broke out—wide and genuine—lighting up his whole face. His voice was almost too eager, a hint of disbelief slipping through. “Really?” His voice was quieter than usual as if he was still absorbing the fact that she’d agreed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to… I’m just glad you’re up for it.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to keep himself from looking too eager, but the light in his eyes gave him away.

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the sight of his smile, the relief and happiness in his expression making her chest tighten in a good way. She hadn’t expected this much joy to come from such a simple exchange. Beomgyu leaned back in his seat, a grin still tugging at the corners of his lips. He felt a strange mix of excitement and disbelief, but it was quickly replaced by a more relaxed, content feeling as he realized she wanted to spend time with him.

"Okay, cool," he said, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to keep the smile from his voice. "We can figure out what to do once you’re free. Taehyun's pretty laid-back, so it’ll be fun."

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the side, her fingers pressing gently against the edge of her notebook, unsure of what to say next. She was still processing the fact that she'd agreed, but she couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling in her chest. It was a strange mix of nerves and anticipation. Being around Beomgyu had become something she looked forward to, even if it was still new and a little overwhelming.

After a few moments of silence, Beomgyu’s voice broke through again. Beomgyu leaned back in his seat once more, his heart still racing. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t overwhelming her, so he quickly asked, “Is it okay if Taehyun comes too? I know I mentioned him but I don’t want to put you on the spot if that’s not what you were expecting.” He glanced over at her, hoping she didn’t feel pressured.

Y/N’s eyes flickered before she returned to her notebook, her fingers lightly grazing the page. She was nervous, but she wanted to try. It was a strange feeling—being overwhelmed but still wanting to make the effort. Y/N quickly wrote down. I’m nervous, but I’d like to meet him.

Beomgyu felt his chest warm at her answer. He noticed the subtle way her shoulders were tense, but there was a quiet determination in her words. He smiled softly, trying to ease her nerves. “I’m really glad you’re up for it,” he said, his voice kind and reassuring. “But if you ever feel overwhelmed, just let me know. We’ll keep things chill, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her face flushed with a mix of nerves and something else—perhaps a hint of excitement. Beomgyu couldn't help but feel a little giddy inside. It made him happy to see her stepping out of her comfort zone, even just a little.

“Alright, then,” he said with a grin, his excitement slipping through. “I’m really looking forward to it. I think Taehyun’s gonna be excited to meet you too.” Y/N paused at his words, her brow furrowing in slight confusion. Taehyun? she thought, her heart suddenly thumping faster. Why would Taehyun be excited to meet me? Did Beomgyu talk to him about me?

She looked up at Beomgyu, her eyes silently asking the question, but she didn’t write anything down this time, unsure of how to phrase it. Beomgyu’s grin faltered slightly when he saw the confusion in her eyes. His own gaze flickered around, trying to avoid meeting hers, his chest tightening under the weight of her quiet stare. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant despite the warmth creeping up his neck.

“Oh, uh, Taehyun’s just... been curious, you know?” he said, his words stumbling out a little too quickly. “We hang out a lot, talk a lot more these days, and he’s asked about you. So, uh, I told him a little bit.”

He couldn’t help it. Taehyun was his best friend, and he’d mentioned Y/N to Taehyun more than a few times. But he hadn’t expected to feel this nervous about it.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. He talks about me? The thought made her stomach flutter, her pulse quickening. She wasn’t sure what to make of it—she wasn’t used to being the topic of anyone’s conversations, let alone someone like Beomgyu.

Beomgyu noticed her silence and immediately felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His face reddened, and he tried to salvage the situation. “Not, like, all the time!” he blurted out, looking anywhere but at her. “I mean, just a little. He’s... he’s a curious guy, that’s all.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile faintly. Her heart was still racing, but she found herself oddly touched, even if she wasn’t sure what to think. The idea that Beomgyu had mentioned her to someone else felt strange—but kind of nice at the same time.

Beomgyu shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes dropping to his notebook as if that could distract him from how flustered he felt. “Anyway, he’s cool. I think you two would get along just fine,” he added quickly, eager to change the subject and move on from the awkwardness.

Y/N gave a small nod, her smile softening. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being talked about, but Beomgyu’s easygoing tone and the way he spoke about Taehyun made her think it couldn’t be all that bad. She felt a little more at ease now, even though her heart was still beating a little faster than usual. Beomgyu glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing how late it had gotten. The library had grown quieter as the evening dragged on, the sound of whispered conversations and pages turning gradually fading into silence. He stretched his arms over his head, a quiet yawn escaping as he began gathering his things. “Wanna head out then, it’s getting late,” He asked her. Y/N nodded, then began packing her notebook and pens into her bag, preparing to leave. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment before turning back to her belongings, her movements deliberate.

Beomgyu stood up and reached for his own things. A small part of him felt reluctant for the night to end. It had been a good study session, and he wasn’t quite ready to leave the comfortable silence they’d shared. Y/N zipped up her bag and stood up, the weight of the evening’s work resting on her shoulders. She wrote in the notes app on her phone, then turned it to show him. I should go. It’s getting late.

Beomgyu nodded, he caught a glimpse of the rain outside—thin sheets of water falling steadily, blurring the outlines of the campus. His heart gave a little tug as he noticed her without an umbrella. He couldn’t just let her walk out there alone, not in the rain.

“Hey, wait,” Beomgyu said quickly, moving next to her now. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Y/N paused, her brow furrowing just slightly. She hadn’t expected him to offer, but warmth flushed over her cheeks at the thought. She gave him a small, shy nod, then quickly wrote down in her phone then turned it so he could see.

Okay, thanks, I would like that! Beomgyu’s grin widened as he grabbed his umbrella from one of the empty chairs he set it down on. “Let’s go,” He said softly leading them out of the building. As they walked outside, Beomgyu opened the umbrella with a smooth flick of his wrist. He stepped toward her, holding it over both of them. The sound of their footsteps filled the air as they fell into step together. The air felt cool, with the rain gently pattering against the umbrella above them. The steady rhythm of the rain created a peaceful backdrop, quieting everything and making it feel more intimate.

Beomgyu held the umbrella close to both of them, their shoulders almost brushing as they walked side by side. The rain was light but persistent, soaking the ground and filling the air with a damp, fresh scent. He couldn’t help but notice how close she was now, the soft glow of the streetlamps catching in the raindrops around them. The walk was short, but Beomgyu felt the weight of every step, each one heavier than the last. The steady rhythm of their footsteps seemed to echo between them, yet it was the quiet, unspoken moments that filled the space. He could hear the soft rustle of Y/N’s jacket, the faint shuffle of her footsteps as they perfectly matched his own. Every sound seemed amplified in the silence that stretched between them, making the air feel electric, charged with something unspoken.

The proximity felt different tonight—closer, more intimate, as if the air between them was thicker, more tangible. His mind raced, caught between the thrill of it and the nervous flutter in his chest. It almost felt like too much, but not in a bad way—it felt right, like they were teetering on the edge of something new.

Beomgyu glanced down at her, just as Y/N looked up at him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and his heart skipped in his chest. Her face flushed faintly, and she quickly turned her gaze away, making him feel both lighter and heavier all at once. His pulse quickened, the nervous energy building between them.

Y/N pulled out her phone again, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face in the dim light. Beomgyu wondered, for a split second, if she was going to write something. But she hesitated. The silence between them stretched, thick with anticipation. He kept his eyes ahead, giving her the space to decide whether she wanted to talk. His heart beat a little faster, unsure of what to say next.

Finally, Y/N typed something, glancing down at her screen before showing him the message.

Thank you again for walking me to my car, means a lot.

“No problem,” Beomgyu said with a smile, though there was a quiet sincerity in his voice. He didn’t mind at all. “Really, it’s no trouble.”

Y/N nodded, but there was a small pause before she typed again, her fingers moving quickly over the keys.

And thank you for hanging out with me today, I had fun even though we were just studying.

Beomgyu chuckled softly, shaking his head, his heart light. “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he said with a laugh, his voice a little warmer now. “I like hanging out with you too, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled back, her gaze holding his for a moment, a soft, unspoken understanding passing between them. There was something about the way her eyes softened, the way her lips curled into that quiet smile that made his chest tighten in the best way.

A few more strides, and they were at her car. The moment felt too short, too fleeting. She typed one last message.

Do you want me to drive you to your dorm?

Beomgyu shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “No, it’s fine. My dorm is a short walk from here, no worries. Just... make it home safely, okay?”

Y/N nodded, unlocking her car. As she slipped into the driver's seat, Beomgyu took a step back, not quite ready for the night to end.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, the words almost lingering in the cool air. “Text me when you get home, so I know you made it, okay?”

Y/N gave him a big smile, nodding enthusiastically before she closed the door. Beomgyu stood there for a moment, watching her, feeling like time had slowed just for them. He stepped back slowly, starting his own walk home with a huge grin on his face. The rain seemed to soften around him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt giddy—lost in thoughts of Y/N, with the sound of raindrops tapping on the pavement filling the silence.

The soft hum of the car’s engine died as Y/N pulled into the driveway, her headlights casting a warm glow on the familiar path to the front door. She turned off the engine, her heart still racing from the walk with Beomgyu, the memory of their quiet closeness lingering in her chest. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tight, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling in her stomach. She stepped out of the car, and the cool, rainy night air hit her skin. She quickly made her way toward the front door, not wanting to get rained on. The house stood dark and quiet, except for a light glowing faintly from the living room. Her dad had always been a night owl; he liked having his alone time, and nighttime was the best for that. As soon as Y/N stepped inside, she was met with the lingering scent of dinner—something rich, buttery, and warm—curling in the air like a cruel tease. Her stomach twisted at the smell, a stark reminder of how long it had been since she last ate.

She took off her shoes and glanced toward the living room, where her dad was stretching as he got up from the couch. The TV cast a soft glow across the room, the volume low, as if he’d just been waiting for her to come home.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice easy, casual. “You have a good night?”

She nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he stifled a yawn. “I was just about to head to bed. Glad you made it home safe.”

She nodded again, but her mind was elsewhere—on the scent still clinging to the air, making her mouth water. Without another word, she slipped into the kitchen.

The counters were wiped clean, not a single dish left out. The fridge door was cool against her fingers as she pulled it open, scanning the shelves for anything—a plate, a container, something saved for her. But the space where leftovers should be was empty.

Her brows furrowed. She stepped back, inhaling again, and that’s when it hit her. The smell wasn’t just hanging in the air—it was stronger, closer.

She turned slowly, her eyes landing on the trash can. The lid wasn’t fully shut. A faint dread settled in her chest as she reached out, pressing it open with her foot.

There, among crumpled napkins and discarded scraps, was a takeout container, its lid haphazardly resting on top. Inside, untouched food—still neatly packed, barely eaten—mocked her from beneath the dim kitchen light.

Thrown away.

She stared for a moment, her throat tightening. Not forgotten. Tossed out. On purpose.

The quiet of the house pressed in on her, the weight of it settling in her stomach alongside the hunger.

Behind her, her dad’s footsteps padded toward the hallway. “I heard you ate already?” he asked, voice heavy with exhaustion.

She hesitated, fingers curling at her sides, and she gave a quick, tight nod of her head. Her stepmom must have lied to him. She had to be the one who threw the perfectly good food out; her dad would never do such a thing.

“Good.” He patted her shoulder in passing, a brief, absentminded gesture before disappearing down the hall. “Night, kid.”

The words barely registered. Y/N stood there for a moment longer, staring at the discarded meal and the empty fridge.

Swallowing down the tightness in her throat, she turned back to the pantry, opening it with slow, quiet movements. She didn’t want to think too hard about it, didn’t want to let it settle too deep, so she reached for the first thing her fingers brushed against—a granola bar.

Not enough to feel full, but enough to get rid of the ache in her stomach.

Peeling the wrapper open, she took a small bite, barely tasting it as she flicked off the kitchen light and padded toward her room.

The week had flown by. Beomgyu and Y/N had been texting constantly, their conversations stretching longer and longer each day. They found themselves meeting up in the library more often than not. It felt like things were shifting between them, slowly but surely. But today was Saturday—the day she would officially meet Taehyun. She was nervous, but she wanted to do this. Taehyun meant a lot to Beomgyu, and she knew this was important. She just hoped he wouldn’t judge her for not speaking.

As she stepped out of her room, loud chatter broke the silence. The muffled sounds of conversation came from the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee reached her as she made her way downstairs, her stomach twisting with anticipation.

Her stepmom, sitting at the kitchen table, was chatting with a friend over coffee. Their voices carried through the hallway, a steady hum of laughter and idle chatter. Y/N hesitated outside the kitchen, taking a deep breath before stepping inside nervously, trying to make herself as invisible as possible.

She opened the fridge, the cool air rushing out to greet her, and began to sift through the contents. Her fingers brushed over the containers of ripe fruit—blueberries, grapes, and blackberries. She pulled out a few pieces of each, letting the sweet scent of the fruit fill her nose. She mainly picked at the blackberries, hoping to avoid the inevitable confrontation. But then, her stepmom’s voice broke through the quiet kitchen air, sharp and cutting through the hum of conversation. “Y/N,” she called, her tone slightly raised, “Come say hi to Mrs. Yoon.”

Y/N didn’t respond, her eyes still focused on the fruit, feeling the familiar discomfort settle into her chest. She just kept chewing, deliberately slow, as she tried to blend into the kitchen’s background. She could almost feel her stepmom’s eyes on her, waiting for a reaction, but Y/N remained still.

There was a long pause before her stepmom spoke again, her voice dripping with condescension. “Honestly, you’ve been so quiet lately. You’d think I raised someone who couldn’t speak at all.” There was a soft, forced chuckle from Mrs. Yoon, her stepmom’s friend, which made Y/N’s stomach tighten.

Mrs. Yoon’s laugh echoed in the kitchen, her voice high-pitched and exaggerated. “Maybe she’s just shy, huh? But surely you could say a word or two. I mean, it’s not like it would hurt.”

Y/N’s grip on the blackberries tightened, and she felt her chest constrict. The words landed like cold, harsh stones, but she didn’t flinch. She wasn’t going to engage. Not this time.

Sensing an opening, her stepmom pressed on, her voice sharpening just a little. “Y/N,” she called, a bit louder now, “Don’t be rude. You're not a little girl anymore; it's polite to talk to our guests.” The words felt like a punch to the gut. Y/N’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t meet her stepmom’s eyes. She could feel the weight of the silence stretching between them, almost suffocating. But she just chewed another blackberry, her eyes focused on the fruit, hoping the moment would pass. But it wouldn’t, and Y/N knew that. So, with all her strength, she turned around slowly, bowing her head to Mrs. Yoon, not daring to look up at the woman. Her cheeks were flushed red from pure embarrassment. Mrs. Yoon, blissfully unaware of the tension, continued. “You know, Y/N,” she said, her tone dripping with fake sweetness, “You’re so pretty. I’m sure you could talk if you wanted to. It’s probably just a phase, right?”

The words were laced with that same mocking cheerfulness that made Y/N’s skin crawl. Her throat tightened painfully as she felt the heat rise in her chest. Y/N just kept holding the small container of blackberries, pretending that was enough to focus on. "Too old for it to be a phase," Her stepmom said in a sour tone. "We thought it was a phase when she was four... Still hasn’t grown out of it. She's just plain rude now."

The chair scraped softly against the tiled floor as Mrs. Yoon stood up. Y/N quickly grabbed another berry, her fingers trembling just slightly as she moved toward the counter, trying to escape the tension without making it obvious. Mrs. Yoon passed by her, muttering under her breath, but Y/N didn’t look up. “There’s nothing wrong with a little effort, Y/N,” Mrs. Yoon’s voice was cold—her words barely more than a hiss as she passed by. “You wouldn’t want people to think you’re strange, would you?”

Y/N’s grip tightened on the container, but she didn’t respond. She turned slowly toward the pantry, the sound of her steps muffled on the floor as she opened the door. She grabbed a granola bar, anything to get away from the conversation, anything to fill the emptiness in her stomach without thinking too much about the conversation she couldn’t escape. “This is embarrassing,” her stepmom huffed as she also walked past Y/N into the living room, following Mrs. Yoon.

With a quick motion, Y/N stuffed the granola bar into her pocket, not bothering to open it. She couldn’t focus on food right now, not when her heart was still pounding in her chest. She placed the container of fruit back into the fridge. Without sparing a glance behind her, she turned and made her way toward the stairs, her steps hurried but quiet, like she was trying to outrun the weight of the moment. As she reached the top, she shut the door to her room, the brief silence offering a small relief from the chaos below. She quickly changed into her work clothes, trying to ignore the nerves still gnawing at her stomach. Her hands were unsteady as she buttoned her shirt, the fabric feeling tight and unfamiliar against her skin. She tried to push down the unease, telling herself it was just the usual anxiety. But today, it felt different—more intense, like everything was building up. She glanced at the clock. She was running out of time. With a deep breath, she quickly finished getting ready, her movements a little more frantic than usual. Y/N quickly grabbed a change of clothes from her closet, her fingers still trembling as she folded them neatly. She added the set to her bag, making sure she wouldn’t forget anything for after work. The tension in her chest hadn't eased, but she tried to focus, heading to the bathroom.

Her reflection stared back at her as she brushed her teeth, the familiar minty taste doing little to calm her nerves. She ran a comb through her hair, the bristles catching slightly, but she didn’t mind. She needed to get going. Maybe once she was out of the house, things would feel a little easier. But as she packed her things and took one last look around the room, the knot in her stomach stayed tight, reminding her that her day was only just beginning.

The clock struck the hour, signaling the end of her shift, and Y/N quickly clocked out, feeling the weight of the long day slip off her shoulders. She quickly changed out of her work uniform and into a simple, comfortable outfit in the bathroom. Once she was done, she stood in front of the mirror, making sure she looked presentable. She kept patting at a flyaway strand of hair, with a huff and it not staying down she decided to pull her phone out. Her fingers trembled as she sent Beomgyu a text. Y/N: Hey! I’m done (: After pressing send, she went back to fixing her hair. The strand was barely noticeable, but it was all Y/N could focus on. She tried to breathe a little deeper, trying to push away the anxiety that had been building all day. The minutes dragged on endlessly until her phone buzzed, Beomgyu's reply lighting up the screen.

Beomgyu: Taehyun wants to cook for us tonight. He loves cooking, so we’ll all be eating at his place instead of going out! Y/N blinked at the message, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She was glad she wouldn’t have to deal with the pressure of picking a place to eat or having to try and order in public in front of them. But the thought of meeting Taehyun still made her stomach twist in knots. She had heard so much about him, and the idea of meeting someone important to Beomgyu—someone who was already a part of his world—made her feel out of place. Still, she couldn’t back out now. Y/N: Sounds good!! I’m excited She got a reply right away. Beomgyu: Me too! You can come here now. I’m already here (: He had sent another text right after with Taehyun’s address. Just like Jiwon, Taehyun lived in a off campus apartment. She gathered her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder before stepping out of the café into the warm afternoon air. The sun hung high in the sky, casting soft golden light over the parking lot. A gentle breeze carried the lingering scent of coffee and pastries as Y/N made her way to her car, her footsteps quiet against the pavement.

She slid into the driver's seat, exhaled slowly, and gripped the wheel for a moment before starting the car. The low hum of the engine filled the cabin, but it did little to settle the nervous energy bubbling inside her.

She pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, her thoughts racing faster than the cars passing by. Would Taehyun like her? Would she embarrass herself? She tried to focus on the drive—the steady rhythm of the traffic lights, the soft murmur of the radio—but the closer she got to Taehyun’s apartment, the harder it became to push away the tightness in her chest.

The drive felt both too short and too long, the minutes stretching endlessly and yet slipping away before she could fully prepare herself. When she finally turned into the apartment complex, her stomach twisted even tighter. The building stood tall and modern, its clean lines and muted tones unfamiliar, almost imposing.

She pulled into an empty parking spot and let out a shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel before forcing herself to move. She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped out of the car with slow, careful movements. Each step toward Taehyun’s door felt heavier, anxiety pressing against her ribs.

She reached the door, hesitating for a moment before pressing the doorbell. The soft chime rang through the hallway, and Y/N swallowed against the lump in her throat, waiting. The sound of muffled footsteps neared the door, and Y/N instinctively straightened, tightening her grip on her bag. A second later, the door swung open, revealing Beomgyu.

His face instantly lit up at the sight of her, a familiar warmth in his expression that made her chest flutter. “Hey, you made it,” he said with a grin, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N nodded quickly and stepped over the threshold into the apartment. The scent of something savory filled the air, and the faint sound of a knife chopping against a cutting board echoed from the kitchen.

“Taehyun’s in there,” Beomgyu said, tilting his head toward the kitchen as he shut the door behind her. “He’s been cooking since, like, forever. I think he wants to impress you.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped at the thought, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. Beomgyu must've noticed, because he nudged her lightly. “Hey, you don’t have to be nervous. Taehyun’s chill, I promise.”

She knew he meant well, but her nerves weren’t so easily soothed. Her hands felt stiff at her sides as she gently kicked off her shoes, then followed Beomgyu further inside. The apartment was cozy, a blend of modern and lived-in. There were books and notebooks stacked on the coffee table, a couple of blankets lazily thrown over the couch, and a few potted plants scattered around. It felt like a space filled with quiet routines and comfort. Before she could dwell on it too long, a voice called out from the kitchen. “You’re just in time.”

Y/N looked up as Taehyun stepped into view, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He was a little shorter than Beomgyu but carried himself with an easy confidence. His dark eyes studied her for a moment before he offered a small smile. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, his tone calm but not unkind. “Nice to finally meet you.” She swallowed hard as Taehyun looked at her, but for a split second, her mind wandered—his eyes were calm, almost too calm for someone who'd just met her. It made her wonder what it was like to be that comfortable with a stranger. She wished she could be more like that. Taehyun was a familiar face, she’s seen him before with Beomgyu and in their psychology lecture. But she’s only stolen glances at him, she’s never actually taken in his appearance until now.

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribs. he bowed her head in greeting, hoping it would be enough. Beomgyu had to mention to Taehyun that I didn’t talk, right? She thought to herself. Taehyun caught the small gesture and offered a soft smile in return—acknowledging her without making things awkward. He knew she didn’t talk, and he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. Beomgyu, on the other hand, flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Tell me you made enough food for me to eat like a king.”

Taehyun shot him an unimpressed look. “I made enough for three people, which means you’re eating like a normal human being.”

Y/N felt a small, unexpected smile tug at her lips. The dynamic between them was natural like they had their own rhythm, their own inside jokes. She felt like an outsider looking in, but the warmth in the room wasn’t lost on her.

“You can sit,” Taehyun said, nodding toward the couch. “Food’s almost ready.” Y/N hesitated before moving toward the couch, her hands still gripping the strap of her bag like a lifeline. The nerves hadn’t gone away, but as Beomgyu continued to whine about how starving he was and Taehyun expertly ignored him, she felt herself exhale just a little. She set her bag down next to her on the couch, still holding onto the strap for comfort.

As the rich, spicy aroma of the simmering soup filled the apartment, Beomgyu sprawled beside her, bouncing his knee absentmindedly. The low hum of Taehyun moving around in the kitchen mixed with the occasional clatter of utensils, blending into a comfortable hum of normalcy. Beomgyu stretched his arms above his head before glancing at Y/N. “Was work okay?”

She blinked at him, briefly surprised by the question, before reaching for her phone. It was fine. Pretty busy.

Beomgyu peeked at the screen and nodded. “Yeah, I bet. The café always looks packed when I walk by.” He let his head fall back against the couch. “I’d suck at that job. I’d mess up orders left and right.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her fingers hovering over her phone before she typed, she wanted to tease him a little. Sounds like you’d get fired right away.

Beomgyu gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “You’re supposed to say, ‘No, Beomgyu, you’d be amazing!’ Where’s the support?”

Her lips twitched, the smallest hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.

Before Beomgyu could continue his fake sulking, Taehyun’s voice carried from the kitchen. “Food’s ready. Come eat.”

Beomgyu immediately shot up. “Finally.” Y/N followed him to the small dining table, where Taehyun was setting down three steaming bowls of soup. The deep red broth swirled with shredded beef, vegetables, and glass noodles, the scent rich with spice. A plate of rice sat in the middle of the table, accompanied by a few small side dishes.

She met Taehyun’s gaze and bowed her head slightly in thanks. He responded with a small nod, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Eat before Beomgyu devours everything,” Taehyun muttered as he sat down.

Beomgyu scoffed, already reaching for his spoon. “I have some self-control.”

Taehyun raised a brow.

“…Okay, not much. But I have some.” Beomgyu continued on his voice more quiet.

Y/N quietly took her seat, picking up her spoon and dipping it into the broth. She blew on it gently before taking a small sip, the rich spice coating her tongue in a slow burn. The warmth spread through her chest, grounding her more than she expected. It had been a while since Y/N had enjoyed a meal like this. Lately, she'd been missing dinners at home, often spending so much time away that she only had time for snacks or whatever she could grab at the café where she worked. Cooking at home wasn’t even an option—she knew her stepmom would make a fuss if she tried to prepare even the simplest dish.

Beomgyu let out a satisfied groan, his eyes closing in contentment. “Taehyun, if you don’t open a restaurant someday, I’m reporting you to the authorities.”

Taehyun barely glanced up. “Then I guess I’m a fugitive.”

Beomgyu turned to Y/N as he dramatically scooped another spoonful. “You see how he wastes his potential? Tragic.”

Y/N only shook her head slightly, stirring her soup as the conversation continued. The nerves that had tightened in her chest all day were still there, but they were softer now—fading into the background as she listened to the back-and-forth between them. The warmth of the meal, the easy rhythm of their banter, and the simple comfort of just being there settled something inside her. As the conversation flowed between Beomgyu and Taehyun, Y/N let herself relax, just a little. The attention wasn’t on her, and that was comforting—like she could just exist in the background without pressure. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

That thought barely had time to settle before Taehyun shifted his focus.

“Beomgyu told me you’re studying to be a vet tech,” he said casually, setting his spoon down for a moment.

The words sent a jolt through Y/N, her shoulders tensing instinctively. The weight of his attention made her skin prickle, her pulse quickening.

Beomgyu, completely unaware of the storm brewing in her mind, perked up. “Oh, yeah! She loves animals.”

Y/N's fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her phone. Her thoughts felt tangled, weighed down by the lingering echoes of this morning—her stepmom’s sharp voice, the cruel amusement in her friend’s tone.

You wouldn’t want people to think you’re strange, would you? The thought ran through her head.

She inhaled deeply, pressing the tips of her fingers into her palm beneath the table. Focus. She just needed to focus.

Her phone screen glowed softly as she typed. Yeah. I like animals more than people haha.

Beomgyu let out a chuckle, light and easy. But Taehyun just gave a small nod, eyes steady. “That makes sense. I would also have to agree with that.”

The simple understanding in his tone eased something inside her. Y/N exhaled slowly, her grip loosening on her phone.

Taehyun reached for his glass of water. “Do you have pets?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth sat heavy on her tongue, bitter and familiar. Her stepmom hated animals—hated them simply because Y/N loved them. Just like everything else Y/N cared about, her stepmom dismissed it, resented it, as if her interests existed just to spite her.

Her fingers moved over the screen. No. My stepmom doesn’t like them.

Beomgyu frowned immediately. “That sucks.”

Y/N shrugged, but the lump in her throat didn’t budge.

She pressed her palms together under the table, fingers gently tracing circles on the inside of her wrist, grounding herself. It was a quiet effort to remind herself that she wasn’t at home, wasn’t under the weight of someone’s critical gaze. The sting of her stepmom’s harsh words came back—how she always belittled Y/N’s interests, and dismissed what mattered to her. But here, in this cozy apartment with the comforting scent of food in the air, Y/N tried to push those thoughts away. She wasn’t in that place anymore. She was here, in this moment, and no one was making her feel small or out of place. No one was making her feel small. She could breathe here.

Taehyun didn’t pry any further. Instead, he took another bite of his food and said, “A vet tech, huh? It’s a good career. You’ll always have work.”

The confidence in his tone caught her off guard. No skepticism, no questioning whether she was really capable of it—just an acknowledgment. Beomgyu tapped her arm lightly with his elbow, his grin unwavering. “See? You’re still here, which means Taehyun doesn’t secretly hate you.” He was attempting to make her feel relaxed, somehow.

Y/N glanced up at Taehyun, who was calmly eating, not offering much reaction. She wasn’t sure if that meant anything, but at least he didn’t seem bothered by her presence.

Taehyun finally looked up, eyeing Beomgyu with mild exasperation. “Why would I hate her?”

Beomgyu shrugged dramatically. “I don’t know, you hate a lot of things.”

Taehyun sighed, shaking his head. “Just finish eating.”

Y/N lowered her gaze to her bowl, her grip on the spoon relaxing. The easy banter between them made the atmosphere feel lighter, even if she wasn’t sure where she fit into it yet. Before taking another spoonful of soup, Y/N glanced up at Beomgyu, only to find him already watching her, a soft smile on his lips. His eyes held a silent reassurance, a quiet praise—his way of telling her that everything was okay. As the meal continued, Y/N reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. Her anxiety still hummed beneath the surface, but she wanted to try.

Taehyun, do you cook a lot? she typed before sliding the phone toward him.

Taehyun glanced at the screen as he chewed, then swallowed before nodding. “Yeah. I like it.”

Beomgyu jumped in before she could type again. “He’s basically a housewife.”

Taehyun shot him a look. “I enjoy making real food instead of surviving on instant ramen and convenience store snacks, unlike some people.” Y/N cheeks flushed lightly, she also enjoyed those things, especially the convenience store snacks.

Beomgyu waved him off. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

Y/N’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard before she finished typing, sliding her phone toward Taehyun again. What’s your favorite thing to make?

Taehyun’s brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t seem bothered by the question—in fact, there was something almost appreciative in the way he read it. “Probably kimchi stew. But I like trying new stuff too.”

Beomgyu leaned in with a grin. “Taehyun thinks he’s a master chef.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Y/N watched their exchange, fingers idly tapping against the side of her phone. She wasn’t used to people like this—so at ease with each other, so effortlessly comfortable.

As they finished eating, the conversation drifted into more casual topics—mostly Beomgyu’s over-the-top complaints about his classes and Taehyun’s dry, unimpressed responses. Y/N listened quietly, fingers lightly tapping against the side of her phone once more. The warmth of the meal still lingered in her stomach, grounding her.

She glanced down at her bowl, realizing she had nearly finished everything. The rich, spicy broth had been comforting, and soothing in a way she hadn’t expected. It didn’t erase the weight of the morning, but for a little while, it had helped.

Beomgyu let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in his chair. “That hit the spot.”

Taehyun hummed, gathering his own bowl. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time.” Beomgyu turned to Y/N with a grin, nodding toward her empty bowl. “You liked it, right?”

She hesitated for a second before nodding.

Taehyun’s gaze flickered to her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke. “I’m glad,” he said simply, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. It was brief, but it softened his usual sharp demeanor.

Y/N quickly typed out a message on her phone and slid it toward him.

It was really good. Thank you for making it.

Taehyun read the text, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly before he nodded. “Anytime.”

Beomgyu pushed his bowl aside. “Alright, now that we’re all full, what’s next?”

Taehyun ran a hand through his hair, glancing around the small kitchen before shrugging. “We could just hang out for a while, see where the night takes us. No need to rush anything.”

Y/N tucked her phone into her pocket, feeling the familiar weight of silence settle around her. Her gaze flickered between the two of them, watching as Beomgyu casually leaned back and made himself comfortable, grinning in that easy-going way of his. Taehyun, on the other hand, appeared relaxed, an unspoken warmth to his presence that helped ease her discomfort just a little more.

She couldn’t help but smile faintly, her thoughts quieting for a moment as she took in the scene. It was such a contrast from the tense moments in her own home this morning, the sharpness of her stepmom’s words slowly dulling. For now, here, with Beomgyu and Taehyun, the world felt a little softer. She could breathe a little easier. The three of them eventually cleaned up their dishes placing them in the sink before making their way to the living room. Y/N and Beomgyu sat together on the couch while Taehyun sat on an accent chair across from the pair.

Beomgyu was now recounting a ridiculous story about something that had happened at school, gesturing wildly as he spoke, while Taehyun listened intently, clearly amused. Y/N’s gaze lingered on the two of them, watching as they interacted effortlessly, their conversation flowing as easily as their laughter.

A small chuckle bubbled up in her chest, and she quickly stifled it, not wanting to interrupt their flow. But she couldn’t help it. The way Beomgyu threw his hands up in exaggerated frustration, the way Taehyun rolled his eyes, his lips quirking up in a barely-there smile. And then it happened—her laugh, soft and unexpected. It caught her off guard, but it slipped out anyway. She hadn’t meant to, but something about the way Beomgyu was speaking, the ridiculousness of his story, just made her chuckle.

Beomgyu stopped mid-sentence, his eyes turning toward her immediately. For a moment, it seemed like time had paused, the room quieting as he looked at her. His expression softened, his lips curving into a warm, genuine smile. There was no teasing, no making a big deal of it—just a simple, kind look that made her feel seen, in the most comfortable way.

She quickly averted her gaze, a blush creeping up her neck and across her cheeks, but the smile didn’t leave her face. It wasn’t that anyone had noticed her laugh—it was that Beomgyu had, and instead of calling attention to it, he simply looked at her with warmth. It made her feel a little more at ease, like she belonged, even in the small, quiet moments.

Taehyun glanced at them both, his expression faintly amused, but he said nothing. The conversation continued, light and easy, and for the first time in a while, Y/N felt like she could just exist in a space without the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her.

As they chatted, laughed, and shared stories, Y/N’s smile lingered. It wasn’t the loud, boisterous kind of laughter that filled the room, but it was real. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel out of place.

It felt like she was beginning to find her place, little by little, with them. Even without saying a word.

✧ taglist: @brrytears @tubasmiracle @sseishiross

#choi beomgyu #txt #tomorrow x together #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fic #txt beomgyu #beomgyu x y/n #txt fic #txt x reader #txt ff #beomgyu ff #fluff #angst #kpop x reader

53 notes · View notes

salternateunreality2 · 2 days ago

Note

I think I'm going through a Cloud phase (again) + because my birthday's coming up I'm requesting ambrosia straight from the source (saltcanons): How did Cloud usually celebrate his birthday as a kid in Nibelheim vs. as an adult. Any tl you want; canon, AC, agszc, the choice is yours <3

❤️🍊❤️ henlooo pumpkin! Thanks for the ask! ❤️ and Happy (soon) Birthday!

0 years old:

Against tradition, both his parents were there to welcome him. They were both young, both scared, both excited, and when he came out breech, they held each other's hands and their breath until he drew his first and SCREAMED.

He came out the same way he would go through life: feet first and impossible to kill, stubborn as a mule. They were so proud and laughed and cried and couldn't get over how perfect he was.

1 year old:

Papa (Cloud could say his name and Mama's) made a little carrot cake from carrots they grew in their garden, honey from their bees, and a lot of love since they didn't have much else. Claudia decorated it with dandelions to match his shockingly thick and spiky hair (just like hers).

He LOVED it, shoveling handfuls in his mouth with a frown of determination while Mama and Papa giggled and kissed.

2 years old:

Cloud said "NO!" and Mama cried. She tried to make the cake again but couldn't focus because he kept asking "WHERE PAPA?!" and when she told him "I don't know", he started saying "NO!" and didn't stop until he screamed himself to sleep.

3 years old:

They moved to the mountains, Mama said they would look for Papa, and Cloud tried every day, even on his birthday, but couldn't find him. He wanted chocolate milk, so Mama got it for him, but stopped wearing her pretty sparkly earrings after.

5 years old:

Cloud was excited to have friends show up. He helped Mama every day, and this year she said they could make a real cake big enough to share! Only one friend from school came, TIFA! And her mom. And they ate cake and had some left over and it was SO FUN!!!

9 years old:

Cloud asked Ma to please stop trying to invite people; they wouldn't come, not even Tifa since she got hurt and her dad said to stay away from him. So they celebrated together, with a small cake and milk (he was too mature for chocolate milk, but regular had lots of protein, which he needed to grow strong).

14 years old:

After Ma went to bed, he slipped out the back door with a small bag of food and a lot of determination. He left her a note. He didn't realize she was watching from the window and crying, knowing she couldn't stop him.

15 years old:

He spent far too much gil to call his Ma, since she had insisted, and ate the cookies she sent with a carton of milk from the mess hall, all while hiding in a broom closet.

16 years old:

Red-faced, he blew out a candle on the ridiculous cupcake Zack got him, all covered in sprinkles and frosting. Zack hollered and cheered and Kunsel blew a party horn. Absurd.

He loved it.

17 years old:

He stared at the glowing eyes above him, wondering if they would ever make it out alive. A skinny arm braced him, and he could barely hear a warbly, whispered rendition of a birthday song as...Zack? Zack. Sang to him. He closed his eyes, not hearing Zack begging for him to stay awake.

20 years old:

He blinked. One moment he was in the desert with a sword. He couldn't leave the sword, it was important. He didn't know why, but he couldn't drop it, no matter what. He blinked again and he was in a city. He blinked again and he was on a train. He blinked again and there was that girl, who wasn't dead? Was she supposed to be dead? Tifa? Tifa. He knew that, he was a First Class SOLDIER.

21 years old:

He was working on some construction for Tifa when she brought him a big glass of milk and a little cake.

"Happy birthday," she said, smiling softly.

He thanked her and she went inside. It was salty. Oh, no, that was from him, as he remembered Zack, Aerith, Ma...

23 years old:

He thanked Marlene and Denzel for the pictures they drew, and let them help him blow out his candles. He also allowed himself a small smile, until Yuffie strapped a stupid birthday hat to his head and he had to chase her down and mess up her hair. Tifa laughed and gave him a big hug and a little kiss on the cheek, which he thought about for several weeks after. Months. Years.

25 years old:

Tifa took him out under the stars.

"Hey Cloud?" she said, taking his hand. His heart raced. She was always a touchy friend with him and he didn't think she knew how much it made him feel like blushing and melting and wanting to put his mouth on hers.

"Yeah?" he said.

"I've been dropping hints, but I don't think you've been picking them up," she said. He tilted his head.

"Is this about the eggs? You SAID cook less than three, I SAW your text: less than sign, then three. Two eggs is less than three. How was i supposed to know you wanted more?"

Tifa giggled.

"No no no," she said. "Well yes, that was one of the hints. The less than three was supposed to look like a heart. Because I like you."

"Oh. I like you too," he said. More than she knew.

"Cloud, I love you as more than a friend. I like you romantically and want to kiss you and go on dates. It's ok if you don't feel the same! But I wanted to be sure to say it clearly, just in case."

Cloud blinked rapidly.

"You...love me?"

"Yes."

"Romantically?"

"Yes."

"You want to kiss me?"

"Yes. Is...that ok? We don't have to change any-"

"YES!" he squeaked, then controlled his voice and pitched it lower. "Yes, that is ok. Um...can I?" He waved awkwardly at her lips.

"Yes," she said, smiling

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

Alternate 25th birthday, because Genesis:

This red-coated, poetry-nerd asshole was on his LAST nerve. Cloud stomped into the bar and slammed the stupid roses and the stupid luxury chocolates onto the counter.

"Oof, someone's in trouble," said Tifa. Cloud snorted.

"He keeps dilly-dallying. It's been a year. If he wants to have sex, he should just say so. He's hot, I'd just do it if he wanted. But he won't just SAY SO, and I know if *I* try to say it, it'll come out wrong and he'll leave because I'm just...not...words...good."

"I highly doubt he'll give up on you over you being bad at saying you want to sleep with him," said Tifa.

"Not sleep, have sex," said Cloud. "And how do YOU know?! Don't you know he's like, super book smart? I ain't had that education!"

"I know because he turned the color of his coat and dribbled the pie out of his mouth onto my nice booth table the minute you said you wanted to bed him," said Tifa pointing to a dark corner behind him.

Cloud whirled around. She was not joking. There was Genesis, in all his glory, fork hovering midair, jaw dangling, red faced, half-chewed pie in front of him, staring at Cloud.

Genesis quickly shut his mouth and cleared his throat.

"Ahem, Strife, I, well, I did not realize, I would be honored, I thought perhaps you would not stoop so low, after, you know," he waved his hand vaguely.

"After you didn't help Zack, basically made me help kill Angeal, and moped in a cave while Sephiroth was trying to eat the damn planet? Well yeah, that sucked, but you were sick and unaware for most of that, and it doesn't change the fact you're h-hot," said Cloud, only stumbling over his words at the end.

"Oh," said Genesis, gazing into Cloud's eyes.

"Yeah," said Cloud, gazing into Genesis' eyes.

"Get a room," said Tifa. "You're grossing out my customers."

Yuffie waved from a couple tables over, making gagging faces as Vincent sat with her looking pained and Cid rolled his eyes.

Cloud had a very exciting birthday after that.

#ff7 #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #claudia strife #cloud's dad #genesis rhapsodos #cloti #strifesodos

43 notes · View notes

enhani-ki · 3 hours ago

Note

Omg I hope I don’t sound sick but would you do Niki x Jake’s girlfriend (Jake is aware of it but dose mind because Niki is his makne)🤧

he knows - ni-ki x reader x jake

warnings: smut, nsfw, cheating, drinking alcohol, cursing, etc.

ni-ki always found it amusing how you act around him. you're polite and reserved with everyone else but with him, you were comfortable. he's the only person you ever spoke to, the only one who could make you laugh.

whenever he cracked a joke, you'd giggle behind your hand, cheeks heating up and whenever he teases you or he'd throw subtle flirty remarks, you'd get all shy and quiet, looking anywhere but at him.

and whenever someone else tried to talk to you, you would just bow politely and walk away, sometimes outright ignoring them.

you had been rushing through the hallway so you could go home early when you accidentally bumped into someone.

"ah- sorry!" you gasped, quickly bending down to pick up your fallen things.

you heard a warm chuckle, pair of hands helped gather your belongings.

and when you looked up, you were met with a pair of kind, familiar eyes.

Sim Jaeyun.

he tilted his head with a curious expression. "oh?" he muttered, studying your face. his eyes lit up. "you're y/n, right?"

your heart skipped. "h-how…?"

jake grinned. "i think i saw your picture because of ni-ki." he laughed.

your face heated up instantly. "ahh…"

"he told me lots of things, you know?"

you groaned playfully, shaking your head. "he must've called me ugly again, right?"

jake let out a short laugh before shaking his head. "but you're not, though..." he continued, "you're very pretty."

"wha- what?"

he smiled, completely unfazed by your flustered face.

this is jake sim, and he just called you pretty.

you knew jake is a flirt and it was just a simple compliment, but still, it feels really good to be called that every once in a while.

you laughed awkwardly, unsure of how to react.

"you should hang out with me sometime." he said, pulling out his phone and casually handing it to you.

you hesitated, staring at the device in his hands.

then he gave you that look, soft, expectant puppy eyes. it was unfair.

you swear handsome boys might just be your weakness.

"...okay." you smiled, typing in your number.

now here you were, standing beside jake, looking all shy as he introduced you to the rest of their friend group.

you felt nervous, not because you weren't used to meeting new people but because these weren't just any people. these are THE people. heesung, jay, sunghoon, sunoo, jungwon and ni-ki...

and judging by their curious smiles, you thought that they might be trying to figure out why jake, of all people, had chosen you.

i mean, he asked you out, he kept texting you, and not to mention, he's literally perfect... who are you to say no?

"my girlfriend, y/n." jake said smoothly and laughed shyly, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

ni-ki barely heard the chorus of surprised "oohs" and teasing from the others because all he could do was to focus on you... how your cheeks turned red, how you avoided his eyes, and how you nervously fiddled with the hem of your sleeve.

since when?

since when did you start dating someone and why the hell was it jake?

"wait, i feel like i've heard that name before…"

jake nodded, "yeah, probably from ni-ki 'cause they're classmates."

"oh, that's right!"

you glanced at ni-ki, who's unusually quiet. he just stood there, staring at you and jake.

he smiled weakly and nodded at everyone.

he looked down, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked away.

ni-ki didn't talk to you for days.

you weren't one to approach people first, and now you have a boyfriend… but ni-ki your friend. you should at least check up on him, right?

you: hey, how are you?

no reply.

he wouldn't look at you, wouldn't say hi, and wouldn't acknowledge you at all.

plus you were too shy to push it further.

is he upset?

you sighed, the ache in your ribs refusing to go away, it pressed against your lungs, making it hard to breathe.

you pulled one hand out and rubbed your chest, fingers pressing over your heart like that would somehow ease the strange, suffocating feeling inside.

today after class, you stood by your locker, stuffing books into your bag when you felt a tap on your shoulder but you chose to ignore it.

another tap.

you exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes but can't help to smile a little bit. you didn't even have to turn around to know who it was, you guessed he probably stopped acting nonchalant.

another tap.

"ni-ki!" you said excitingly, but instead of ni-ki, you found yourself staring at your wide-eyed classmate holding out your pencil case.

"you- you left this in class!" he stammered before shoving it into your hands then ran away.

the hallway got dead silent. dozens of eyes were staring at you, some students whispering, and others were just staring.

your stomach dropped and then, just when you thought the situation couldn't get worse, you caught sight of ni-ki who had stopped in his tracks after hearing his name from your mouth. he's just a few feet away, staring at you awkwardly.

a confused look appeared across his face for a second. then he scoffed, smiling widely before walking away.

you closed your eyes and swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your pencil case. you shook your head and lightly bashed your head into your locker. "that's so embarrassing..."

later, you were staring at everyone's pictures stuck to the fridge.

you were just waiting for jake to finish getting dressed, when someone opened fridge door beside you, nearly making you jump.

ni-ki.

he didn't acknowledge you, he just grabbed a bottle of water and cracked it open, like you weren't even standing right there.

you pouted. he's so rude.

and when you turned to look at him again, you realized he was already watching you, even as he lifted the bottle to his lips.

your heart skipped then you quickly looked away, suddenly feeling nervous.

he smirked and before you could even process it, he was already stepping closer.

"hey…" you greeted, still nervous.

ni-ki then leaned in tilting his head before he kissing you slow and passionate as if he was savoring you. his lips were cold from the water, but he tasted so good, it's so right.

when he pulled away, the sound of your lips parting was loud, sexy, and intimate.

then you looked at his eyes, you started panting.

you panicked at the sound of footsteps approaching. you shoved ni-ki away, your face burning as you ran outside.

he watched you disappear with an amused smirk on his lips.

he turned back to the fridge just as jake walked in.

"where's y/n?" jake asked, adjusting his watch.

ni-ki grabbed another bottle of water and popped the cap off before shrugging, "i don't know."

you avoided everyone after that.

it was wrong. all wrong.

why did he do it?

and it's also wrong that you're thinking about it while on a karaoke date with your boyfriend.

"jake, i have to tell you something…"

he smiled. "hold on, i gotta sing this."

then started singing while looking at you, his voice warm and full of energy. he was so sweet, it made you want to cry.

it's always fun with him.

and on the way home, jake couldn't stop talking to you in English, excitedly rambling about random things. "i like that i have someone like you who i could talk to about this." he said, joked that he was tired of speaking with his friends.

you laughed softly. "well, i'm happy to listen."

jake smiled before tilting his head. "is it true? i remember ni-ki saying something like you don't like anyone touching you?"

you heart raced hearing his name but you forced yourself to stay calm.

"no, not really." you replied. "but it's not that i don't like it. i guess i just like it better when i'm really comfortable with someone."

jake stopped walking and stared at you. "look at you…"

you blinked. "huh?"

"you're already opening up to me."

you chuckled after feeling the warmth in his voice then he reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

you smiled weakly.

"i gotta warn you," he grinned. "i'm really clingy."

then you laughed, letting yourself be in this moment with him that you actually forgot about what happened with you and ni-ki.

you were hanging out with everyone but you only had your eyes on jake. you were laughing weakly, hands tracing his arm as you leaned into him. his touch was warm, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

ni-ki sat quietly across the room, watching. his jaw was getting tighter the longer he observe.

he had been patient, biting his tongue, but when you nearly stumbled forward in your drunken state, only for Jake to catch you with an amused chuckle, ni-ki finally had enough.

"hyung," he said abruptly, standing from his seat. "she needs to go home."

you blinked, your laughter fading as you turned to look at him and alcohol made it hard to focus but you still managed to send him a hazy glare, eyes narrowing.

jake frowned as he glanced at ni-ki. "oh, is that so?" he raised a brow, clearly entertained by ni-ki's sudden concern.

ni-ki didn't back down, he wasn't playing games. "yeah." he said, his tone unwavering. "she's too drunk."

jake gave him a confused look. you're with him, your boyfriend. so what?

"hey, woman. should i tell your mom you're drinking?" ni-ki asked you.

then jake chuckled, brushing his fingers soothingly over your back. "okay," he murmured, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. "i'll come see you tomorrow, alright?"

ni-ki exhaled through his nose, stepping forward as if ready to take you himself. jake noticed but didn't react, only smiling softly as he helped you up.

and since he's too drunk as well, he asked ni-ki for help.

he held your arm carefully. "take care of my girl." he said lightly, as if provoking ni-ki.

but ni-ki didn't respond, he just led you forward. he sighed, adjusting his grip on you as you swayed slightly against him.

it was cold outside so you were practically glued to him, your fingers clutching at his sleeve because if felt like you'd float away if you let go.

why did jake let you drink this much?

"ni-ki..." you called out, "kiss me again." you said suddenly, soft but insistent.

ni-ki stiffened, halting for a moment. his grip on your arm tightened as he let out a slow breath. "you're drunk," he muttered.

"i can't stop thinking about it..." you admitted, stopping in your tracks and looking up at him with big, glossy eyes.

he clenched his jaw, clearly fighting himself. "you'll never ask or tell me that when you're sober, right?" he smiled.

you giggled, leaning closer, swaying again. "because i'm smart when i'm sober."

ni-ki scoffed, rolling his eyes. "right. and you're real dumb right now, huh?"

and instead of answering, you grabbed at his sleeve again, tugging like a stubborn child. He groaned, clearly exasperated, but there was no real bite to it.

"stop moving so much," he muttered.

but you just pouted at him. "kiss me," you whined, repeating your words.

ni-ki let out a long sigh, like he was actually debating whether to listen to you or throw you over his shoulder and carry you home.

but he gave in, leaning down and pressing a long, firm kiss to your forehead.

you wanted it on the lips but you immediately melted, your eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your arms around his waist. his arms came around you too, pulling you in even closer.

next day in class, you were back to being yourself again, as if you hadn't been all cheeky, clingy, and asking ni-ki for a kiss last night.

he leaned back in his chair, watching you from across the room as you quietly wrote in your notebook, acting like nothing had happened.

he got up, grabbed a chair, and dragged it beside your desk, resting his head on the surface. "why are you still here?" he asked.

"i'm waiting for jake." you answered simply, not looking up.

ni-ki rolled his eyes before he pulled out his phone and texted jake.

ni-ki: she's waiting for you.

jake: omg, i forgot. my head still hurts.

clicking his tongue, ni-ki set his phone down and looked at you. you were still writing, completely unaware. "you look dumb."

you laughed it off, brushing off his bluntness like you always did.

"do you wanna go to our house? he's there."

you paused before finally looking up at him. "he's… not coming, is he?"

ni-ki nodded. "sorry."

you shook your head quickly, forcing a smile. "it's fine. not your fault. i've got things to do anyway."

he reached out and gave you a quick pat on the head. you blinked up at him in surprise.

"let's eat then i'll walk you home."

"huh?" you hesitated, blinking up at him.

he laughed. "you're gonna sit here all day looking dumb?"

you glared at him. "i said i have things to do."

ni-ki raised an eyebrow. "yeah? like what?"

you opened your mouth, then closed it, unable to come up with anything convincing.

"come on. let's go."

you pretended to think about it for a moment before finally standing up. "fine." you said, grabbing your things.

later that night, as you lay in your bed, your phone rang with an incoming call. it's jake.

"hello?"

"did you get home safely?" he asked, yawning because he just woke up.

you sighed softly. "yeah, ni-ki walked me home."

there was a pause before jake let out a small scoff. "ni-ki… that kid…"

you frowned. "what?"

"he's not gonna take you away from me, right?"

your eyes widened slightly. "that's ridiculous..." you muttered, your voice quieter than you expected.

jake hummed. "i should confront him."

"wha-"

"i'm kidding, i love that guy..." he laughed. he added, "i miss you..."

you rolled onto your side. "i wish that was true."

jake laughed again, a little softer this time. "of course it's true. i'll make it up to you, i gotta go now."

you chuckled. "okay, bye."

he hung up, leaving you staring at your screen.

he's not gonna take you away from me, right?

you pulled out your phone and typed a message.

you: i should thank you.

ni-ki: hell yeah.

ni-ki: jk, it's good :p

you smiled, shaking your head.

you: you want coffee or something?

ni-ki: what's the something?

you: anything you want.

then moment passed before he responded.

ni-ki: bet. see you.

you stared at your screen for a while, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before you sighed, locking your phone.

and when you and ni-ki were finally alone, he quickly shut the door behind him, locking it with a soft click.

you watched as he took off his jacket, tossing it aside. you gulped, "so- so… do you want something?" you asked, your chest rising and falling with excitement and anticipation as he slowly walked closer.

"yeah, i want this…" he panted, cupping your cheeks before pressing his lips to yours.

you gasped against his mouth, your hands gripping onto his arms as you kissed him back. the familiar warmth of him, the way he tasted, the way he held you, it made your stomach flutter.

"i miss you, ni-ki." you murmured between kisses, barely pulling away before diving back in.

then he smiled against your lips. "i miss you too." he whispered, deepening the kiss, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. "you should say that more." he added.

you moaned softly in response, fingers tightening around the fabric of his sleeves.

this was so wrong.

your body was longing for ni-ki.

his hands began to wander as he pressed his body on top of yours, you could feel how much he wanted you with the evidence of his arousal hard against your thigh.

"ni-ki," you whimpered, tilting your head as his lips trailed down your neck. he nipped and sucked, but not enough to leave marks.

"we shouldn't..."

"we- we shouldn't." he repeated, continuing his kisses on your skin as his hips began to grind against yours. the pleasure in the friction made you roll your eyes, hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

ni-ki's hands slid down to your ass, giving it a squeeze as he picked up the pace. you bit your lip to hold back a moan while feeling yourself growing wet already.

it felt so good, his strong body pinning you down.

"i want you," he panted, the movement of his hips were stuttering.

you nodded breathlessly, too far gone to protest.

he lifted you up slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist which you did so eagerly, the new position allowing him to grind harder against your clothed cunt.

his thick bulge rubbed against you with each roll of his hips, you squeezed your eyes shut, really overwhelmed by sensation.

you were both panting now, completely lost in the heat of the moment. his lips found yours again and you gave him sloppy kisses.

all thoughts of wrongdoing were forgotten because it was replaced by the all-consuming need to have ni-ki closer.

ni-ki adjusted his grip, one hand sliding between your bodies to palm at his straining erection through his pants. he groaned his own touch, bucking into his hand.

"i'm gonna cum like this." you panted in his lips.

"hmm, i can't wait." he said, kissing you.

your hips rolled shamelessly against him as you feel the pressure building, very tight in your core.

he was really going to make you cum just from this. just from dry humping him.

"ni-ki," you called out his name, fingers clutching at his shoulders. "i'm gonna-"

he panted, picking up the pace then he quickly slid his fingers in your underwear and started moving his hand skillfully.

"cum, y/n... i wanna feel you." his words pushed you over the edge and you came with a silent scream, convulsing in his arms, creaming all over his hands and your pants.

you could feel the wet heat of it, soaking through the fabric.

for a moment, you just clung to him, coming down from your high.

then ni-ki had to go to the bathroom for a good five minutes. probably jerked off because he came out with a tired arm.

you both avoided his eyes, the reality of what you'd just done sinking in but ni-ki didn't seem to care, he pulled you close and kissed your forehead.

then you tried. you really did.

you rehearsed it in your head a dozen times, thinking of every possible way to say it. to tell jake the truth about you and ni-ki, about what's been happening.

but every time you tried, jake never gave you the chance.

you took a deep breath, gripping the hem of your sweater while sitting beside him.

you swallowed. just say it.

"jake, i need to talk to you about something." you started, voice steady despite the way your heart pounded.

he would interrupt you before you could even get another word out. asking about what to call each other, "do you prefer love? baby?"

"jake-"

his hands trailed up and down your sides, "ugh, it's been so busy lately, it’s driving me crazy."

your heart clenched.

"you love me, right?"

"what?"

he pulled back to look at you, his eyes full of affection, it's making you feel so guilty you thought you might drown in it. "you love me," he repeated, more certain this time. "so whatever it is you're stressing about, it doesn't matter. we're good."

the courage to tell him was gone.

but ni-ki could tell something was off, jake was being distant.

they're really close, so he noticed right away how jake would leave the moment he would join them and how he barely acknowledged him. it wasn't obvious to everyone else, but ni-ki could tell.

though others noticed jake acting strange too but they brushed it off, not thinking too much about it.

does he know?

ni-ki's chest tightened at the thought.

he might be an adult now, taller than most of them, stronger even but these were still his friends, his brothers and despite everything, he still felt scared sometimes.

fuck.

the house was loud. music, laughters, banters and clatters of bottles as they knocked against the table.

some of the guys were already wasted, slurring their words, and their voices were overlapping each others as they rambled about the dumbest things.

jake is really really drunk, his head was already resting against the couch but still grinning as he took another drink.

somehow everyone ended up talking about relationships, sharing stories, teasing each other about past flings, you know, the usual drunk banter.

"bro, i mean..." he started, voice slightly slurred but still clear enough for everyone to hear, "fucking your friend's girl behind their back is really crazy, right?"

the room fell silent.

whatever's happening, all of it died instantly. everyone exchanged glances, awkwardly moving in their seats.

"why- what are you even saying?" Heesung laughed, his eyes were darting around the room as if trying to gauge the situation.

jake let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "i'm just kidding!" he grinned, waving his hand dismissively.

the others forced out laughs too, brushing it off as another one of jake's drunken jokes but some were annoyed that he had to kill the vibe.

then the conversation slowly picked back up, though the energy wasn't quite the same.

ni-ki didn't laugh. he didn't even move.

jake knew and yes, it was crazy.

jake and ni-ki were the only ones left in the kitchen.

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before finally speaking. "hyung…"

jake scoffed, not even sparing him a glance. "what do you want, asshole?"

ni-ki clenched his jaw. yeah, jake's mad and he wanted to be mad too, he wants to throw something, to say something that would make jake lash out at him just so they could get this over with.

"i'm sorry." he said, all he could say.

jake let out a cold laugh. "keep that sorry and don't talk to me."

ni-ki swallowed, staring at him, searching for something. jake didn't look drunk anymore. he looked sharp and clear-headed like he had been waiting for this moment.

"you know i liked her first, right?" ni-ki said quietly.

jake went silent.

and yeah, he knew. he had known before even meeting you. before anything had even started.

but he only smirked. "i guess you're too slow, ni-ki." he said, adding, "she's not leaving me so you should probably leave her alone."

"i can't."

jake knew. he knew what happened in this kitchen, he knew the way you looked at ni-ki when you thought no one was watching, he also knew what you've been trying to tell him and the truth was, he thought he didn't mind because he also loves ni-ki.

he believed and hoped that maybe you'd grow to love him the same way but i guess it's exhausting, and it's gonna hurt all of you if he let it continue.

he walked away, leaving ni-ki standing right there with his heart pounding and his head spinning.

jake was lying on your chest, his arms were wrapped around your waist as you absentmindedly played with his hair.

he was talking about something, probably one of his usual dumb stories where you wouldn't stop laughing.

"that's so stupid." you giggled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

he is stupid, cuddling, laying on his cheating girlfriend's chest...

jake started propping himself up slightly, his warm eyes met yours and then, without warning, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

it was the first time he had ever truly kissed you. "jake?" you whispered.

he didn't answer, his lips trailed down, pressing aggressive kisses to your neck, his grip on your waist tightening.

"j- jake…" you said as you tried to pull away.

"is this how ni-ki does it?"

your entire body tensed.

you pushed him slightly, sitting up with your heart hammered through your chest.

jake scoffed, moving to look at your eyes. he was angry, frustrated and hurt. and without a word, he leaned in and kissed you again.

and when he felt you weren't kissing him back, he pulled away with a quiet sigh.

"what did i do to deserve this?" he asked you.

you swallowed hard, tears forming in your eyes. "nothing. you did nothing…"

he forced a small smile and reached out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. "sorry, y/n. i-"

you grabbed his hand, holding it tightly, tears slipping past your lashes. "no, i'm sorry..."

you didn't know what else to say. jake hugged you.

maybe it was your fault for saying yes in the first place and for letting things get this far despite loving ni-ki.

maybe it was ni-ki's fault for being a coward and only realizing what he wanted after he saw you in someone else's arms.

or maybe it was jake's own fault for falling for you despite knowing his friend had already set his heart on you.

he hugged you tighter, afraid that if he let go, you'd slip away completely.

jake took you somewhere, a quiet place with a beautiful view where you talked, you laughed, and where things felt okay.

then ni-ki showed up.

"hyung?" ni-ki called out, his voice uncertain and despite calling his friend, his eyes locked with yours.

jake sighed, patting ni-ki's back with a chuckle. "you're so late."

"hyung…"

"it's okay, idiot. you go get her." he said, adding. "i'll leave you two."

ni-ki sat on the edge of the bench, his hands resting on your waist as you stood between his legs, your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

he looked at you, unsure. "y- you're mine now, right?"

you nodded without hesitation.

relief washed over his face and he let out a quiet breath before resting his forehead against your shoulder. "ni-ki,"

he hummed.

"sorry for letting you go through that situation." you said, guilt pressing against your chest.

ni-ki leaned back to look at you, "sorry too…" he cupped your cheek, tilting your face slightly before giving you a kiss. and when he pulled back, he brushed your hair away from your face then he just stared for a moment, taking you in, your eyes, your lips, the way you looked at him now compared to before.

you ducked your head and buried your face in his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him again because you felt suddenly shy.

ni-ki chuckled softly at your reaction, his hands sliding around your back to hold you even closer.

he was already mentally preparing himself to be the other guy. like, really ready to sneak around and everything but jake is really smart.

"you know," he said with a laugh, "i figured i would have to be all stealthy, careful and sneaking out the back door but he figured it out right away." he said, joking.

you groaned in disbelief, burying your face in your hands.

"oh my god..."

a/n: ni-ki is a snake T T and i hate you here. this was painful but fun to write. i didn't go crazy with the smut, still, i hope you'll like it <3

27 notes · View notes