#like warming someone's heart with a smile

[trashytracktales]

girl hi hi hi hi i am in love with your writing 😩😩

as someone who’s terrified by getting her driver license can i request boyfriend Lando giving you driving lessons and you know, good old soft dom lando giving you INSTRUCTIONS and praising you !! You know what i mean? 🥹🥹

and ofc throwing in a lil nice smut won’t be bad idk

Maybe this way i’ll feel inspired to finally get my license

(gorgeous gorgeous girls are obsessed with cars but scared to drive 🤩)

ily T!!

Fast learner | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── First of all, you got this, babe!! Getting your license can be scary, I remember being absolutely terrified. It definitely takes time and determination, but you can do it, I promise 🤞🏻 Also, so sorry it took me AGES, but I am struggling to finish my works lately *sad sounds idk*. I hope I did this one justice though. Fingers crossed and let me know when you get that license, queen. Enjoy 🤍✨

. ݁₊ ⊹ summary ──── Lando surprises his girlfriend with a gift she can’t say no to. Despite her fear, his guidance helps her gain confidence behind the wheel. But back home, the lessons continue in a much more intimate way, as Lando makes sure she knows just how good she is at following his instructions, both on and off the track.

. ݁₊ ⊹ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ rating ──── explicit

. ݁₊ ⊹ category ──── F/M

. ݁₊ ⊹ warnings ──── 18+, driving anxiety, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, sexual metaphors & euphemisms, light choking, soft dom!Lando.

. ݁₊ ⊹ word count ──── 5.6k

. ݁₊ ⊹ date ──── Feb. 28, 2025

WHEN SHE OPENS her eyes, the first thing she notices is that his familiar heat is pressing on her from every direction. With Lando’s arm resting like a sluggish weight around her waist and his fingertips brushing the exposed flesh beneath the hem of his hoodie, which she had stolen before bed, she feels secure in the warmth they’ve created.

His nose is buried in the crook of her neck, and the second thing she notices is the quiet, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against her back, his steady breathing blending with the morning silence, and the delicate, smooth kisses he’s planting on her skin.

The girl shifts slightly, only for him to tighten his grip, pulling her closer; she smiles, understanding he is already awake.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asks Lando, his voice languid.

Her body is melting back into his embrace, Lando’s slightly aggressive curiosity making her giggle. “Nowhere.”

“Good,” he presses a tender kiss to her shoulder, then another, trailing his lips back up the curve of her neck. “Because it’s your birthday, and I get to hold you for as long as I want.”

She smiles again, her heart swelling at the way he always makes her feel like she is most important thing in the world.

“That’s exactly what you said when it was your birthday,” she reminds him. “And last Friday, when it was… just Friday.”

“Still applies, as you can see,” he speaks softly against her skin. “Happy birthday, my love.”

A mellow hum leaves her as she turns in his arms, finally opening her eyes to meet his. They’re still laced with sleep, heavy-lidded and warm, the early, weak sunlight filtering through the curtains and cascading all over his face. His hair is a mess, his cheek faintly creased from the pillow, but she thinks he’s never looked more beautiful than he does in the mornings. Mostly because no one but her knows that his eyes are incredibly clear when he opens them for the first time. Or that his hands, still asleep, do not grasp her with the same strength they do at night, but have a tenderness she knows she will never find anywhere else, except their own bed.

“Thank you, pretty boy,” she whispers, running a gentle finger over his jaw, then following the pillow marks up his cheek. Lightly, she cups his face, her thumb pressing on his dimple, making Lando grin.

He leans in to nuzzle his nose against hers before capturing her lips in a sleepy, lazy kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers, tender and sweet, the kind that makes her toes curl under the blanket. His hand skims up her side, slipping beneath the hoodie, fingers brushing against warm skin as he pulls her impossibly closer.

When they part, he sighs contentedly, resting his forehead against hers. “Sorry for waking you up.”

She hums, “You can wake me up like this everyday.”

“Yeah?” Lando giggles. “I actually had half a mind to let you sleep in, but I got too excited.”

She laughs softly. “Excited for what?”

Instead of answering, Lando reaches over to the nightstand to grab a small, beautifully wrapped box. He holds it out to her, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Her brows knit together as she pushes herself up onto her elbows. For a second, she thinks he’s about to propose, but he looks way too relaxed for that, which makes her question everything she knows about her boyfriend.

“What did you do, Lando?” she asks. “I told you no gifts this year.”

He smirks, nudging the box toward her. “It is not a gift. Think of it as an... investment. Come on, just open it.”

She hesitates, much more suspicious now, casting Lando a tamed look before carefully removing the ribbon. The paper falls away, revealing a sleek black velvet box. Her heart picks up its pace as she flicks it open and finds out that inside, resting against the dark fabric, is a car key.

She blinks, confused.

The logo gleams up at her, adding to her state.

“Lan…” she stares at the key, then back at him, as if waiting for him to laugh and tell her it’s all a joke. “This is a car key.”

Lando nods, biting his lip to keep from bursting into laughter. “Your dream car’s key,” he corrects her.

Her stomach flips violently. “No way. No. Lando, no. Absolutely not,” she keeps saying, shaking her head. “That’s too much,” she adds, shoving the box toward him as if it burns to touch. “You did not buy me a car for my stupid birthday.”

Incapable to hold his laugh any further, Lando lets out a little giggle. His voice is light, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his expression when he speaks again, “It’s not stupid. I wanted to. I’ve been planning this for a while now.”

She gapes at him, her brain struggling to process. “You bought me a Porsche.”

He shrugs, reaching for her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. “I bought you your Porsche. The exact one you’ve been obsessing since forever,” he leans in, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Don’t make me beg you to accept it. You deserve it and I can afford it, so just—”

“It’s not about deserving, Lando,” her heart swells, but panic creeps in. “I appreciate you for doing this, but I don’t even have a driver’s license. And I’m definitely not ready to get it any time soon. So please, can you take it back?”

His facial expression turns mischievous, raising a finger in the air, “Oh, no. You are ready. Which brings us to the second part of your present,” he says, tapping her nose playfully before throwing the covers off and getting up. “Get a comfy pair of shoes on. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

She looks at him warily. “Where exactly?”

Lando smirks, stretching before tugging a hoodie over his head. “Driving lessons,” he says, pointing at himself, “With me.”

Her stomach drops. “Lando, no.”

“Lando, yes,” he winks, crossing the room to where she sits on the bed, still in shock. “Baby, I know you’re terrified, but I wanna show you it’s not as scary as you think. It’ll be fun, I promise. And if not, we can stop at any time.”

Her lips part, but no words come out, only a strangled noise that makes Lando chuckle. He crouches in front of her, taking her hands in his, looking up at her. Sometimes, she thinks that the way he does it is so annoying, because she can’t say no when he gives her those puppy eyes. She realizes, looking back at him, that chances are Lando is even more excited than she is, which makes her feel a little guilty.

“Look, it’s okay to be nervous,” he says gently, pressing a kiss to her palm, “But I’ll be right there with you.”

Her chest tightens — not from anxiety this time, but from the sheer love she feels for this man, and for the way he always knows how to push her while making her feel safe.

She ends up nodding and, with that, Lando pulls her into a lingering kiss, as if sealing the promise between them.

WHEN LANDO SAID driving lessons, she thought he meant a quiet, empty parking lot somewhere in the city. Or maybe a back road with little to no traffic. What she did not expect was an entire race track at their disposal.

It’s February, and the cold still bites through the air, the kind of chill that seeps into her bones despite the heat blasting inside the car. The sky is now a heavy shade of gray, fluffy clouds stretching endlessly above the open space of the Silverstone Circuit. The grandstands stand empty, ghostly in their silence, the wind whistling through the steel framework.

Her hands tighten into fists as she stares at the massive expanse of the track. She’s been here before, sure, but she’s never seen this place so devoid of people and so lifeless. What strikes her, though, is that it doesn’t even matter, because the circuit has the same beauty — perhaps even more alluring when it’s not animated by the roar of people and the deafening sound of engines. It’s almost haunting. She can’t shake the feeling that it’s the same place where world-class drivers push their limits at blinding speeds, where Lando himself has raced countless times. And just for tooday, it belongs entirely to them.

Her heart pounds harder in her chest as she’s turning to look at him, “You got me Silverstone for my first driving lesson?”

Lando smirks, shutting the engine off. “Had to pull some strings, no biggie.” He looks back at her, his eyes gleaming with excitement under the thick, long lashes. “I didn’t want anything to distract you or to feel any external pressure. Just us, and your car.”

Her car.

She still hasn’t fully processed it. She spent the entire two-hour drive here just staring at it, running her fingers over the pristine leather seat when Lando wasn’t looking, and tracing the sleek dashboard, memorizing every detail. It smells brand new, the engine purring under his control like a well-tamed beast. But now, as he opens his door and steps out, the reality of what comes next hits her, and panic creeps up her spine once again.

She grips the seatbelt tightly, her fingers going numb, as she watches Lando walk around the car. He looks so at ease, so effortlessly confident as he gestures for her to switch places. Meanwhile, she feels like she could throw up in T minus five seconds.

“Come on, baby,” he calls, grinning as he taps the roof of the car. “Time to make you a driver.”

Yes, that sounds good. And yes, she wants this. She really does. But the moment she steps out into the cold air and faces the car from the driver’s side, the same doubt settles deep in her chest. It’s not that she’s scared of driving — well, she is. But that’s not the only reason why she postoned getting her license for so long. The simple thought makes her stomach flip, because she knows that the second she puts foot in a car, so many things can go wrong, especially if you’re afraid.

Lando notices her hesitance immediately, and his playful grin softens as he steps closer. “Hey,” he says, tilting his head. “What’s bothering you, hm? Talk to me.”

The girl exhales shakily. “I’m not sure about this, Lando. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Of course you can,” says Lando in a determined voice.

She looks at the car, then at the track ahead of them. “It’s...” her voice trails off, trying to come up with the best excuse and go back home to nestle between their warm sheets.

“It’s just tarmac, baby,” Lando’s tone is calm and reassuring. “It’s no different than any other road. Just bigger. Safer, actually.”

Her arms wrap around herself instinctively, bracing against the cold, but mostly against her own emotions. “What if I mess up?”

“Then you mess up,” he shrugs, “That’s what learning is, isn’t it?”

She knows he’s right, but the fear still lingers, coiling tight in her stomach. “And if I crash?”

“You won’t crash,” he answers with the same determination yet slightly amused, taking her by surprise, because Lando uses that voice only when he is sure of what he’s saying.

She scoffs, “Sure, how do you know that?”

Lando smiles, reaching for her hands, rubbing warmth into her fingers before bringing them up to his lips. “Because I am here.”

Ha.

She nods slowly, suddenly realizing that there’s no going back — not when Lando is so committed to show her a side of herself that even she’s not aware of. And the fact that he believes in her does something to her brain; it gives her a bit more confidence and courage. She’s seen Lando drive countless of times before. She watched him, his movements instinctive, so measured and smooth that it’s become second nature to him. Maybe she can try to replicate that to a certain degree.

For her own sake, she owes him that.

“Alright,” she manages to say, her voice much tamer than expected.

“That’s my girl,” he presses one last kiss to her knuckles before stepping back, gesturing to the driver’s seat. “Get in there.”

With a deep breath, she finally slides into the driver’s seat, and her entire body tense as she grips the steering wheel; it feels hard under her touch, yet delicate at the same time. Lando follows, settling into his place effortlessly, like this is just another normal day at the track for him.

“Okay,” Lando starts, his voice patient. “First, get comfortable. Adjust your seat, mirrors, whatever you need. Make sure you see everything and, most importantly, make sure you feel everything. All the points where your body makes contact with the car, yeah?” he watches her nodding, swallowing the lump in her throat, then adds, “There is no rush, so take your time. We’ve got plenty.”

Her movements are stiff and mechanical as she reaches for the seat adjustment; she can feel her pulse in her fingertips while she does it. Then, she places her hands on the steering wheel, feeling it firm under her grip, and she suddenly becomes hyper-aware of how tight her fingers become around it.

“Babe,” says Lando, noticing she’s still fighting on the inside. “Relax your hands. You don’t need to strangle it.”

She forces herself to loosen her grip, but her fingers still tremble slightly.

“That’s better,” Lando reaches over, placing a hand on her knee to ground her.

She inhales sharply, then exhales, trying to shake the nerves. Lando waits until she goes through everythig he’s just instructed her, without rushing or teasing at her hesitation. He’s just there, a constant presence that makes her feel more comfortable.

And then, “Think of it like when you’re on top,” he continues casually.

Her head whips toward him, eyes wide. “What?”

Lando’s expression changes, looking like he’s just mentally high-fived himself for the comparison. “When you’re on top, you’re in control,” he reminds her. “You set the pace. You decide how fast or slow you wanna go,” his fingers tighten on her thigh as he leans in slightly, his voice dipping lower. “The car will respond to everything you do. Try it. I’m here to guide you.”

“Lando.”

He keeps going, completely undeterred, “Baby, I know you know how to move. It’s all about finding that rhythm,” he says, his fingers tapping against her thigh for emphasis. “It’s literally the same thing. Smooth, steady, no sudden jerks. And when you’re ready to pick up speed…” Lando grins, his eyes darkening just slightly. “Well. You know what happens then.”

A laugh bursts from her chest, all the tension snapping like a rubber band. She slaps his arm away, her face heating at his ridiculous but so on-brand analogy. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he teases, laying back in his chair, “You’re finally breathing properly now.”

She blinks, realizing he’s right. The tightness in her chest has eased, her grip on the wheel no longer desperate. Her shoulders have dropped, her muscles loosening bit by bit. Lando sees the realization settling over her, content that he managed to put other images inside her head in order to make it easier to handle.

He chuckles, then gestures toward the track in front of them, “Alright, birthday girl. Ready to take me for a ride?”

She groans, covering her face with one hand. “You just can’t stop, can you?”

“Nope,” he says after a moment. “Foot on the brake.”

Instinctively, her foot finds the pedal, pressing down tentatively.

“Now, start the car.”

She swallows hard and reaches for the ignition button. The engine roars to life beneath her fingertips, smooth and powerful, vibrating through her entire body.

At the sound, Lando grins proudly. “There she is.” His hands go to rest on the armrest, his thumb brushing the fabric lightly. He watches carefully as she moves to adjust the mirrors with a focused look in her eyes. “Good,” he continues, his voice a soft command that she knows so well. “Now, keep the wheel steady, just like we talked about. Look ahead. Your eyes should be on the next corner, not the one you just passed.”

She nods, keeping her focus on the track.

“So, this car is rear-engined, which means most of the weight is at the back. That makes it a little trickier to handle if you throw it into a corner too fast. But,” Lando pauses, looking at her intently to assure her there’s nothings to be afraid of, “I’m here to make sure you drive it right.”

She scoffs nervously, “Is there a wrong way to drive it?”

“Plenty, actually. Relax your hold I said,” he instructs her again, “Baby, if it’s too tight, you won’t feel what the car is telling you.”

“Telling me?” she echoes, glancing at him with furrowed brows.

Lando nods, “Yeah. The car talks to you, just not with words. It tells you when it wants to rotate, when it has grip, when you need to be gentle or when you can push,” he says, gesturing toward the long straight. “Speaking of. Go on, give it some gas.”

Her heart jumps into her throat, but she listens, pressing down on the accelerator tentatively. The car responds instantly, surging forward with smooth, controlled aggression. She gasps, the force pressing her back against the seat, and Lando chuckles beside her.

“That’s it,” he praises. “A lot of power, hm?”

She lets out a breathy laugh, still nervous but slowly melting into the feeling of it all.

“Next, the corners,” Lando adds, eyes locked on the road as they approach one. “You want to brake before you turn, not while you’re turning. That’s how you keep it stable.”

She follows his words, pressing down on the brakes a little too early, but the car slows smoothly.

“Good,” he says, nodding approvingly. “Turn in,” he pauses, lips quirking into a smirk. “Like the way you move your hips when you ride me. Controlled, but with intention.”

Her foot nearly slips off the pedal. “Lando, stop that!” she squeaks, turning her head for a second, just to glare at him.

She feels the tires gripping the asphalt in a way that sends a thrill through her, despite the nerves still buzzing beneath the surface.

“I’m trying to speak your language,” he laughs, “Ease off the throttle and prepare to brake again,” Lando’s voice is smooth, “Yes, keep your foot light on the brake. Feel it?”

She does. While following his instructions, gently, she eases her foot off the gas, then applies just the right pressure to the brake, her heart racing with each turn. Lando watches her closely, but she can tell he’s holding back, not overloading her with instructions but guiding her just enough so she feels the car’s movements.

“Perfection,” he praises as she hits the apex of the corner, the car hugging the track with a controlled grace. “Accelerate again, gently. Let the car do the work for you. Don’t overthink it.”

She hesitates for a moment, her fingers adjusting their grip on the wheel, before she picks up speed, feeling the engine roaring beneath her. Despite the fear gnawing at her, there’s a strange thrill beginning to bubble inside, a sense of freedom she’s never felt before. She can feel the car responding to her, listening to her movements, exactly like Lando told her it will. Which makes her eager to go faster, to push.

But as she rounds another corner, a new wave of uncertainty floods her chest, and she glances over at her boyfriend again. “Lando, I don’t know…”

“You do,” Lando’s voice is almost a growl, “Bury your foot on the pedal. See what this car is capable of.”

Her pulse quickens, but there’s more excitement behind it now. With Lando’s words echoing in her mind, she takes a deep breath, presses her foot into the pedal, and feels the car surge beneath her. For a moment, he senses her hesitation, but then the car roars to life, and she feels the pull and the adrenaline racing through her veins. The acceleration is immediate and, before she knows it, the world outside blurs, the track stretching out before her like an endless ribbon.

To her surprise, she loves the feeling.

Next time he speaks, Lando’s words sound like a whisper over the roar of the engine, “That’s it, baby,” his eyes sparkle with approval, and she can hear the pride in his voice all over again. “You did it!”

THERE IS A faint smell of leftover takeout that lingers in the air, blending with the sweet vanilla of the birthday muffins he insisted on getting as dessert. There will be a cake and they’ll get to properly celebrate with her friends at the end of the week but, until then, her birthday was a success, topped with adrenaline and excitement, which she never thought she would ever enjoy.

Now, she stands by the full-length closet mirror, running a brush through her hair, the weight of the day settling into her body. It was terrifying yet thrilling in ways she hadn’t expected. What surprises her even more is her sudden desire to get back in the driver’s seat. She’s slowly realizing how addictive the feeling she experienced on the track is, and even though she knows that driving around the city won’t compare to what Lando offered her today, she feels — perhaps for the first time in her life — ready to take that step.

Lando moves behind her right after she puts the brush down, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing his chest against her back.

“So, when can I drive again?” he hears her asking in a teasing voice, though there’s a genuine spark of nervousness behind it.

He smirks against the curve of her neck, lips barely brushing her skin. “You can give me another ride now, since you insist,” Lando suggests, his voice dripping with smugness.

She rolls her eyes and, twisting in his hold, she faces him, her hands sliding up his chest, fingertips tracing the contours of his collarbones. “Sounds good, but aren’t you afraid that too much control will get to my head?”

“Not at all.”

Lando steps forward, kissing her with enough force to show her that he means every word. His hands are now everywhere — on her hips, up and down her back, in her hair, then gripping her thighs as he lifts her effortlessly. She lets a surprised gasp into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist as he presses her back against the mirror. It’s hard against her skin, a stark contrast to the softness rolling off him in waves.

Her fingers end up tangling in his soft curls, tugging just enough to make Lando groan, a sound she’s never learned how to properly react to, since it drives her wild every single time she hears it. He tastes like the vanilla from the muffin that they shared earlier, so sweet and sinful.

When he comes back to his senses, Lando brushes his nose against hers, his voice hushed but firm, “I’m so proud of you, you know that?” he asks in a whispered voice. “You’re gonna do great.”

A shiver runs down her spine, not just from his words but from the unwavering belief behind them. Lando has always been her greatest cheerleader, the one who never let her doubt herself, even when she wanted to.

Her exhale is soft as a baby’s breath, fueled by the praise that sets her skin ablaze. “Lando,” she whispers, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck.

He chuckles, the sound of it full of want. “Right here, baby. What do you need?”

She can’t use her words at the moment. Instead, she just presses herself closer to him, silently telling him what she needs. And Lando gets the message loud and clear. With a firm grip, he walks them toward the bed, her body flush against his.

Clothes come off in a frenzy: her shirt lifted over her head, his sweatpants kicked away, her underwear dragged down her thighs in a rush. His lips are on her skin the entire time, trailing fire along her collarbones, down the valley between her breasts and over the curve of her stomach.

When she’s bare beneath him, he pulls back, drinking her in.

“Want on top?” asks Lando, a little smirk hanging in the corner of his mouth.

The girl shakes her head, “You first,” she teases, already breathless.

He doesn’t answer, but runs a hand down his face before gripping her thighs and flipping her onto her stomach. She gasps as he positions himself behind her, big hands spreading across her waist. Lando’s fingers flex, gripping her like she belongs to him in ways neither of them can describe, but both agree on.

Gently, he presses a kiss to her shoulder blade, then another, before dragging his teeth along her heated skin. “Let me show you how high confidence can get you, baby.”

And then, he pushes inside.

A muffled moan spills from her lips, her back arching hard into him as he bottoms out, filling her completely. He presses his lips in a thin line at the feeling, at the way she welcomes him so perfectly, clenching around him like she was made for this. It’s hard to keep quiet, yet he wants to give himself the priviledge of being able to feel her like this a little longer.

“God, you feel so good,” he mumbles, his hands sliding up to her shoulders, fingers curling around them.

“Move then,” she orders, managing to get a chuckle out of him.

Lando’s thrusts are calculated at first, dragging along every sensitive spot inside her, pulling sounds out of her that go straight to his cock. But then he shifts, picking up speed, pounding into her with a precision that leaves her gasping further more.

Before she knows it, she’s drowning in all of it. The feeling of him, the way he takes control, and how patient he is with her.

“Lando,” she whines, voice muffled against the sheets.

“I know, baby,” he breathes, bending over her, pressing a hand to the pillow beside her head. “Just take it.”

He switches between teasing strokes and deep, hard thrusts, keeping her on edge, making her feel every inch of is length. The air around them is charged, filled with the scent of skin and something intoxicatingly sweet. Heat clings to them, heavy and thick, as if the room itself is suddenly caught in the same fever they are.

When he feels her tightening around him way too soon, Lando doesn’t hesitate to flip her onto her back again, eyes locked onto hers as he slides home once more. She whimpers at the quick change, at the way he goes so deep in this new position, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him even closer. Lando whimpers, dropping his forehead to hers, breath ragged against her lips.

“Look at you,” he can barely speak, “So. Good.”

She shivers at the praise, nails raking down his back, grounding herself in the heat of his skin. He watches her, pupils blown wide, drinking in every expression that flits across her face, from the parted lips and the way her brows knit together as pleasure overwhelms her, to the sheer need burning in her gaze. It’s almost too much for him, but the desire to see her crumbling for him like that is stronger.

The roll of his hips, every stretch, and every inch of him pressing into her it’s enough to send shudders through her body. He feels her everywhere: surrounding him, clinging to him like she’s planning to never let him go. And fuck, he never wants her to.

His hands roam her body, admiring every soft dip of her skin. One traces the swell of her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple before his lips follow, dragging warm, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, her neck, and anywhere he can reach. She tilts her head back, offering more of herself to him, and he groans against her skin, nipping at her pulse just to feel the way she gasps.

“Harder,” she breathes in such wrecked manner that sends a bolt of heat straight through him.

His body tenses for a split second before a sudden hunger flickers in his eyes. No hesitation. No teasing. Just a low, guttural curse as he grips her hips and thrusts into her with purpose, each snap of his hips punishing in the best way possible.

“That good for you?” he rasps, voice tight with control, but his pace says he’s barely holding on. She nods, but it’s not enough for him. Lando grips her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Let me hear you.”

“Yes,” she moans, voice breaking as he drives into her harder. “Yes, you feel so good, baby. Don’t stop...”

Lando finds the strength to smile at her, watching her slowly coming undone beneath him, her body arching, legs tightening around his waist. “Won’t,” he assures her, “You take it so well, it drives me crazy,” he groans, his hand sliding between them, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling, teasing.

Her legs start trembling around his waist, and he knows she’s close. He can feel it in the way her body is betraying her, spasming around him, the way her breaths grow uneven, and how her hands tighten in his hair as if anchoring herself to him.

“Mhm,” he hums, his forehead pressed to hers. “Ready to come with me, love?”

She doesn’t have time to answer as she moans his name, a cry lost in their furtive kiss, just as her body tightens around him, pulling him over the edge right with her. His repetitive moans are maddening as he spills inside her, hips jerking, hands gripping her with a force that’s going to leave marks.

After that, he refuses to move. They just breathe, chests colliding against each other, bodies pressed so tightly together that it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Then, Lando tilts his head, pressing another lazy kiss to her lips before whispering against them. “Best student I’ve ever had.”

She laughs, smacking his shoulder, but she doesn’t deny it.

A shiver rolls down Lando’s spine as he pulls out, his body thrumming with aftershocks, oversensitive but still craving her. His eyes flutter shut for a second at the feeling — she’s still so tight, greedily clenching around nothing, the evidence of their release slick between them, a mess they should deal with but won’t. Not yet.

His cock, still heavy and slick, rests between them, twitching slightly as he leans down to kiss her again. It’s slow, languid, an extension of the pleasure still simmering in the air between them. His lips move against hers with a practiced ease, his body pressing into her as if he’s trying to mold them into one.

Then, his hand finds her neck. He squeezes lightly, just enough to make her breath hitch; his smirk against her lips is pure sin.

“Get on top,” he orders, voice thick with something commanding. His hands find her hips again, thumbs stroking the heated skin there. “I want you to reproduce every single thing I explained to you at the circuit today. Show me what you learned,” he provokes her, eyes dark with challenge.

She bites the inside of her cheek, chest burning at the way he looks at her — his lips parted, eyes filled with lust —, fueling her desire to show off.

Slowly, she sinks down onto him, gasping at the way he stretches her as if he wasn’t inside her not even two minutes ago. She lifts herself before easing back down, soon finding a rhythm that makes him curse under his breath.

“Keep your grip firm,” Lando instructs, trailing his fingers up her spine. “Don’t be afraid to push a little harder.”

She presses her hands to his chest and moves faster, earning a deep, satisfied moan from him.

“Fuck,” Lando swears under his breath, eyes flickering between her face and the way she moves on top of him. “Such a fast learner.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[cutiecusp]

Safe.

A continuation of this

A Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soaps sister fic.

What happens when you knock on your brothers door for help, and Simon answers?

Tw. Brief dv implication, sexual talk, a kiss or two. MDNI.

The rain was heavy as you ran to your brothers house, heels long forgotten, just you in a ruined dress and a bruised eye.

You don't stop as you hear him calling your name, urging you to get back in the car, that it would never happen again.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you reach your brothers flat, both hands battering down the door, hoping you were louder than the rain.

"Johnny, Johnny please!" You scream, your voice heavy with worry.

The door opens mid pound, making you stumble into a broad chest, and an accent unlike your brothers spits out.

"Oh little dove, who did this to you?"

You feel his gaze flicker down his body, his eyes stopping at the bruises on your face, the split lip, and then travelling down to your torn dress, your bare feet.

Ghost.

The one man you knew other than Johnny who would protect you with his life.

You shake, your body exhausted from the adrenaline boost, and being caught in the rain.

Ghost wraps his arms around you, gently pulling you out of the rain, passing you a blanket from the chair to cover yourself with.

You stiffen as you hear heavy footsteps behind you, the weight of them forever in your mind.

"I see, running straight into another man's arms, bitch?" Jake snarls, alcohol giving him the bravery to stand there in the doorway.

He doesn't get any further before you are shoved to the side, and a spurt of blood erupts from Jakes nose.

Ghost stands there in your place, snarling like a guard dog, shaking his knuckles.

"Watch your mouth around her." He advises cooly, taking in your (ex) boyfriend, his unnerving stare relentless in its dominance.

Jake staggers to his feet, clasping his nose.

"She ain't worth it, wouldn't give it up anyway, frigid cunt." He spits a ball of blood, landing on Ghosts shoes.

Ghosts eyes flick to yours, pushing you further in the house, shutting the door behind him, leaving you alone to find some of Johnny's clothes to get warm in.

Outside, you hear scrapes and five small high pitched screams, just barely louder than the rain, before Ghost steps in, his face a cool mask until his eyes meet yours.

"He won't bother you again." He grumbles, his deep voice filling the room.

You settle on the sofa, using the blanket as a shield.

"In fact. He probably couldn't touch a woman again in his life with the way I broke his fingers." He scoffs.

Looking over at your pale, shivering form, he gives an apologetic look.

"Sorry. No filter. Johnny's not back until tomorrow evening. I'm looking after the flat till then."

You nod, you had always had a light friendship with Ghost, and you knew there was a dark soul under the light smiles you always recieved.

"Let's take a look at ya." He gestures to your face.

"Looks like he got you pretty good." He says, standing to get the first aid kit.

You swallow down your embarrassment as you felt his touch on your face.

"You probably think I'm stupid-" you began, but he silenced you with a look.

"You remind me of my mother." He states plainly, wiping down your bloody lip and smoothing a balm over it.

"She was my father's punching bag, especially when he'd had a bottle. She was funny, kind, and didn't deserve it either"

You take in what he's saying, Johnny never told her about Ghosts home life, only it was a sad one.

"One day, she snapped back. Stood there and gave it back, her face a rainbow of bruises, but she fought back." He continues softly, almost as if he's talking more to himself.

He applies more balm over the cut on your cheek, a dark glance as he noticed it matched Jakes ring.

"What surprised me at the time was no one helped. Everyone knew about it. My mum was a good person, but she had no one. You have someone. You have me. " He decides, seemingly happy with his handiwork.

You nod, unsure what to say.

"Thank you." You muster up instead.

He nods, packing away the kit, before flicking on the kettle.

You two sit in a comfortable silence, mug clasped in both hands as you relax into the sofa.

Your eyes drift shut, you feel Ghost take your cup out of your hands and place a quick kiss on your forehead.

You are fast asleep soon enough, too asleep to hear Ghost pull out his phone and call in a favour.

"Gaz? Gonna need info. Jack Darrington. And a clean up crew." He listens for a few minutes before hanging up.

"You'll always have me." He says out loud to you as he slips out into the night.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

@kaeyasfuturewife @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker

[meinii]

"sick"

summary: Sylus is sick, now it's your turn to take care of him (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

content: fluff, mentions of being sick, mentions of food

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

it wasn’t often you saw Sylus like this—stripped of his usual confidence, his sharp words dulled, his imposing presence softened by the fever making his skin warm to the touch. he wasn’t the type to admit when something was wrong

in fact, you’d only found out because you had shown up at his place unannounced, fully intending to tease him about skipping lunch plans, only to find him slumped on the couch, face pale and drenched in sweat

"Sylus" you had gasped, immediately rushing to his side

he cracked one eye open, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips

"hey... look who’s here," he rasped, voice rough and lower than usual "didn’t think you’d catch me like this... not exactly my best look"

your heart twisted at the sight of him—normally so strong and composed—reduced to this feverish mess. without hesitation, you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, wincing at how hot he was

"you’re burning up," you said softly "why didn’t you call me?"

he closed his eyes again, murmuring, "didn’t want to worry you... it’s just a fever. not like I’m dying."

"that’s not the point, Sylus," you whispered

gently, you brushed damp strands of silver hair away from his face. his skin felt like fire under your fingertips "you take care of everyone else. let me take care of you this time, okay?"

he grunted something unintelligible—probably a protest—but you ignored it

moving quickly, you fetched a cool washcloth and pressed it against his forehead. His breath hitched at the cold sensation, but after a moment, he relaxed into it

"see? not so bad," you murmured, offering him a smile. his eyelids fluttered, gaze locking with yours for a moment longer than necessary

"you’re... too good to me" he mumbled

"someone has to be," you quipped, though your tone was soft. Standing up, you glanced toward the kitchen "I’ll make you some soup. stay put."

his smirk returned—though faint—as he closed his eyes

"bossy" he muttered, but there was no bite to it

in the kitchen, you found yourself smiling despite the worry gnawing at your chest

Sylus was so stubborn—always putting others first, never letting anyone see his vulnerabilities. but here he was, letting you in. that meant something.

the soup wasn’t anything fancy, but you hoped the warmth would help. carrying the bowl back, you found him half-asleep, arm draped over his eyes

"Sylus," you called gently "hey, sit up for me. I brought you something"

he groaned but obeyed, albeit sluggishly

"you’re relentless" he grumbled

"you’d do the same for me" you pointed out, holding the spoon up to his lips

he blinked at you, clearly debating whether to argue, but eventually sighed and leaned forward

"...tastes better because you made it" he said after swallowing

"flatterer" you teased, but your cheeks warmed anyway

you fed him slowly, making sure he didn’t rush. his eyes kept fluttering shut between bites, and you reached out to steady him when he swayed. "almost done" you soothed

once finished, you set the bowl aside and wiped his mouth gently "there. not so bad, right?"

he chuckled weakly "feel like a kid again..."

"good," you said, grabbing the blanket to tuck it around him "means you’ll listen to me for once"

to your surprise, his hand shot out, catching yours. his grip was warm—too warm—but his thumb brushed over your knuckles in a tender gesture that made your heart skip

"thank you," he murmured, gaze sincere "really."

"you don’t have to thank me," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "you’ve carried so much on your shoulders, Sylus. let me shoulder some of it. just this once... let me be the one taking care of you."

his eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache. he squeezed your hand gently "...don’t deserve you"

"well, tough," you replied, giving him a teasing smile "you’re stuck with me"

he chuckled again, but it faded into a cough. worry flared anew, and you reached up to adjust the cool cloth on his forehead

"sleep," you urged "you need rest."

"you’ll stay?" he asked, voice rough

vulnerable.

"of course I will," you said without hesitation "I’m not going anywhere."

settling beside him, you let him rest his head on your lap, fingers carding through his hair soothingly. his breathing gradually evened out, the tension in his body melting away. you stayed like that, watching over him, heart full

hours passed

he stirred occasionally, murmuring half-formed words—your name among them. each time, you reassured him softly, smoothing his hair back and humming quietly

at one point, his hand found yours again, fingers intertwining

even in sleep, he sought your warmth

you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple "it’s my turn to take care of you," you whispered "and I will. always."

the night stretched on, but you didn’t mind.

Sylus—your Sylus—was letting you in, letting you hold him together when he felt like falling apart

and you’d stay right there, as long as he needed you.

[whosashan]

Hiii! I’m sorry I couldn’t find if you were open for requests or not so if you don’t take any at this moment please ignore this.

I really love your style of writing and I was wondering about how lads boys would react if MC asked them if they are in love with her or who she was in the past life. I know with Caleb and Zayne it can be tricky but I was thinking that maybe Zayne remembered his past or like MC suddenly remembered everything? That’s just an idea I had in my mind.

Anyways like I said please ignore this request if you don’t take any at this moment or you don’t like that idea!

Have a nice day❤️

Who do you love?

A/N:Hi there! Thank you for your request. You didn't specify if you want it to be more angsty or strictly fluffy, so I did a bit of both ;p I tried to base it off of their myth's, but since I don't have Sylus' and Rafayel's memory cards, I eyeballed it. I hope you'll like it, any feedback is greatly appreciated :] Have a nice day!

For a while now, an insidious question has gnawed at the recesses of your mind. Perhaps it stems from deep-seated insecurities, a relentless curiosity, or something more profound and unsettling.

Since uncovering the intricate tapestry of your past with your lover, a disquieting thought has taken root: are you merely a stand-in for someone who no longer exists? The paradox is maddening—you find yourself envious of a former self. The notion pierces your heart with a sharp, unyielding pain, knowing that there was once another—ironically, another version of you—who preceded you. That person was, undeniably, their one true love.

You grapple with the tormenting thought: are you genuinely the one he loves now, or are you simply a surrogate, a shadow of the past?

Xavier

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, shadows flickering against the walls, casting elongated shapes that danced with every shift of the flames. The air was warm, thick with the scent of wax and faint traces of Xavier’s smell - something so uniquely him.

He laid across the couch, head resting on your thighs, his platinum hair spilling like silk over your lap. Your fingers moved through the strands absentmindedly, tracing over his scalp in slow, rhythmic motions, just the way you knew he liked. His breathing was steady, his body relaxed, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt peaceful. Intimate. Safe.

But your thoughts refused to be still.

You wondered—had he been like this with her too? Had she tangled her fingers in his hair just as you did now? Had she peppered his cheeks with soft kisses, stolen those rare, beautiful laughs that you cherished so much?

The thought shouldn’t sting. It was you, after all. The past version of you, the one whose fate had already been entwined with his long before you even remembered him. And yet, there was a weight in your chest, something heavy, something bitter—regret? Uncertainty? You should have been grateful. It was you. It had always been you. But still, the question gnawed at you.

How different was she?

Did her smile tilt the same way? Did she struggle to keep her hair neat, no matter how much effort she put into it? When she laughed, did her cheeks lift high enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes?

The flickering candlelight traced soft golden hues over Xavier’s face, his lashes casting delicate shadows against his cheekbones. His beauty was almost inhuman, sculpted and refined, made even softer by the haze of drowsiness settling over him. He was close to sleep, lulled by your touch. Maybe it was cruel to ask now, to shatter this moment of quiet serenity.

But you couldn’t stop yourself.

You inhaled sharply, trying to gather the courage that had been slipping through your fingers. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper—

"What was she like?"

The silence stretched.

You thought, for a moment, that he had already fallen asleep, that your question would go unanswered. Relief and disappointment tangled together in your chest, neither strong enough to win over the other.

Then, his voice, soft yet weighted.

"Who are you asking about?"

His head shifted slightly, his dark lashes fluttering open just enough for blue eyes to meet yours. There was exhaustion in them, slight confusion, as if you had pulled him from the edge of sleep. Your fingers stilled in his hair, and he let out a quiet, displeased groan at the loss of comfort.

"Her. I mean… me. The past me." The words felt clumsy, uncertain. How were you even supposed to ask something like this?

Xavier’s brows knit together for a second, a flicker of thought crossing his face before his expression settled back into something unreadable.

"You were the same person you are now." His reply was immediate, almost dismissive, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But that wasn’t enough.

"I want you to be more specific." Your voice was barely above a breath, but there was something desperate beneath it.

He exhaled, fingers idly drawing slow, deliberate circles on your thigh, as if the motion would somehow ease whatever storm was brewing inside you.

"She was… eccentric," he finally said, his voice quiet, thoughtful. A pause. A hesitation. "Always stubborn. Always insistent. Never knowing when to give up." A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Not that much different from you now."

You scoffed, more out of reflex than humor. "Should I feel insulted?" you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite.

But then, as quickly as the moment of levity had come, it was gone again. The question that had been clawing at your ribs threatened to spill from your lips.

And then—

"Did you love her more?"

It barely came out, the words fragile, splintering even as they left you. Your entire body tensed.

Xavier’s hand stilled against your thigh. For the first time, something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe even hurt. Slowly, he lifted his head, pushing himself up until he was finally at eye level with you. His gaze studied you intently, tracing every furrow of your brow, every small tension in your lips.

And then, gently—so, so gently—he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sent warmth curling through your chest. He was close now, so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, his warmth wrapping around you like a quiet promise.

"I would love every form of you the same." His voice was steady, unwavering. "For me, you will always be the one. Whether it’s the you from before, the you now, or the you in another lifetime. It doesn’t matter if you were human, a fairy, or even a worm."

A small, teasing smirk curled his lips at the end, a deliberate attempt to ease the tension, to coax a reaction from you. And it worked—heat crept up your neck, settling in your cheeks, and despite everything, you felt the ghost of a flustered pout forming on your lips.

Xavier leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to the tip of your nose, before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze once more.

"Never doubt yourself again, hm?"

And then, without waiting for an answer, he pulled you into his arms, tucking you against his chest, your face fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck. His embrace was warm, steady, grounding. The kind of touch that made all your doubts seem small, insignificant.

Because even if your question hadn’t been answered completely, even if some part of you still ached for something more—there was one thing you were certain of.

He never made you feel like she was better. He never made you feel like you had to compete with your own past.

For Xavier, it was always you.

Zayne

The only sound in the dimly lit room was the rhythmic clicking of keyboard keys, an almost hypnotic cadence breaking through the thick silence. The golden glow of Zayne’s desk lamp illuminated the contours of his sharp features, casting long shadows over his workspace. He sat with his usual meticulous posture, his frame effortlessly composed, exuding an air of quiet authority even in something as mundane as working. The reflection of his laptop screen glimmered faintly against his glasses, obscuring the rich hazel depths of his eyes.

Across the room, you lounged on the couch, your body half-sunk into the plush cushions, a book resting open in your lap. Despite the separate worlds you were both immersed in, there was a comfort in just existing beside him—his presence was grounding, a constant anchor in a sea of uncertainties.

Your gaze trailed over the words printed on the page. A romance novel—one that struck too close to home. It told the story of a man who spent lifetimes searching for his lover, chasing fragments of them across time, waiting for fate to intertwine them once more.

“Is it really me you love? Or the person—the people—I used to be?”

The line cut through you like glass, burrowing itself deep into the pit of your stomach.

Your fingers hesitated over the page as your eyes flickered toward Zayne. He remained at his desk, seemingly lost in his work, his expression unreadable. His dark hair fell slightly over his face, a few strands brushing against the thin frames of his glasses. Even when exhausted, he looked composed—controlled.

It was foolish, perhaps, to ask. You knew how he hated to be interrupted when he was deep in thought, yet you also knew yourself. If you didn’t speak now, the words would fester, gnawing at you like a wound left untreated.

"Zayne."

His name left your lips barely above a murmur, but he heard you. He always did.

His fingers stilled over the keyboard, his posture shifting as he leaned back into his chair slightly. He turned to you, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his jawline.

"Yes, love?" His voice was deep, slightly hoarse from disuse, carrying with it a subtle weight of exhaustion.

You hesitated. Just for a moment.

Sensing it, Zayne pushed his laptop aside and stood, his movements slow, deliberate. Without a word, he made his way toward you, his presence a steady force as he settled beside you on the couch. Lifting your legs with ease, he draped them over his lap, his fingers resting absentmindedly against your ankle. His warmth bled into you, solid and grounding.

Encouraged by the gesture, you swallowed and forced yourself to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind for far too long.

"What was my past self like?"

His brows lifted slightly, his fingers pausing their absentminded movements. "That’s a rather unexpected question," he murmured, adjusting his glasses—a telltale sign of nervousness, though he would never admit it. "What’s brought this on?"

You frowned. "Don’t change the subject."

A subtle exhale left him, barely audible, but you caught it. You knew him well enough to recognize when he was trying to sidestep something.

"I don't remember everything." His voice was measured, but there was a slight tightness to it. "Fragments, maybe. Fleeting pieces that don’t quite form a complete picture. But from what I do recall…" He trailed off, adjusting his glasses again before continuing.

"She wasn’t so different from you now." His tone was contemplative, as if choosing his words carefully. "Determined. Unyielding. Always knew what she wanted and wouldn’t rest until she got it." A small pause. "Much like you."

Your lips pressed into a thin line. That answer—it wasn’t enough.

"Did you love her more?" The words came out before you could stop them.

This time, his reaction was immediate. His entire body tensed, his fingers tightening just slightly against your leg—not enough to hurt, but enough for you to notice.

His eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his expression before it smoothed into something composed once more.

"As far as I’m concerned, she is you. Every version of you—past, present, future—exists within the same soul, deeply ingrained in me. To compare them would be a fruitless endeavor. There has never been a question of more or less—there is only you."

His voice was even, unwavering, but there was a weight to his words, something deeper lying beneath them. A certainty so absolute that you almost felt ridiculous for asking.

Still, a part of you felt… silly. Jealous over yourself. How insecure could you be?

But it wasn’t insecurity, was it? It was the cruel weight of uncertainty, the knowledge that there were pieces of yourself you might never truly remember. And that truth would always linger, like a ghost in the back of your mind.

Zayne, ever perceptive, seemed to sense the turmoil playing behind your eyes. He lifted his hand, his fingers trailing up your arm before settling against your own, giving it a light squeeze. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a grounding gesture.

A smirk—barely there, but unmistakable—tugged at the corner of your lips as you met his gaze. "Is that so? Then tell me more."

Zayne let out a soft, resigned sigh, shaking his head just slightly. But even as he feigned reluctance, there was the unmistakable ghost of a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

And somehow, even if your question wasn’t entirely answered, even if you knew the uncertainty would return again someday—right now, his presence was enough.

Rafayel

Laughter filled the dimly lit bedroom, loud and breathless, bouncing off the walls as you squirmed beneath Rafayel’s relentless assault. His fingers moved with precision, ghosting over your sides, tracing over sensitive spots he had long since memorized. Your body arched in protest, hands weakly attempting to shove him away, but he was stronger, faster—his lips curled in amusement as he watched you crumble beneath his touch.

"Alright, it's enough!" You gasped between helpless giggles, trying—failing—to inject authority into your voice. The demand might have carried weight if not for the way laughter cracked through it, rendering it powerless.

Still, Rafayel, ever the merciful tormentor, finally relented. With a low chuckle, he slowed his movements, his hands instead settling on your waist, fingers splayed lazily over your hips as if he had all the time in the world. Then, in a gesture as disarming as it was tender, he leaned in, pressing playful kisses across your cheeks, your nose, the corners of your lips—each one stealing the remnants of your breath.

Your smile only widened, cheeks flushed a warm pink.

When you finally opened your eyes, he was already watching you, his usual mischief softened by something more dangerous—something deeper. His dark hair framed his face in perfect disarray, stray strands falling over his forehead, and his striking blue-pink eyes shimmered with something unreadable.

"You're killing me, cutie." His voice was honeyed, teasing, yet laced with a quiet reverence. "From all that laughing, I figured you loved my fingers on you. Should I take that as a request?"

A flick to his forehead wiped the smirk off his lips.

He gasped dramatically, cradling the spot as if you had mortally wounded him. "Now, you need to kiss it better!" His pout was exaggerated, his dramatic flair in full effect, yet beneath the playful act was a calculated charm—one that had always made him so dangerously captivating.

Rolling your eyes, you indulged him, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead. The faint imprint of your lipstick lingered, and you smirked to yourself, deciding to keep that detail to yourself. It suited him, after all.

Rafayel hummed in satisfaction, but then his expression shifted. "That’s slightlyyy better." A pause. "Now, how about we order some seafood?" His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, his tone lighthearted.

And yet—your stomach dropped.

Your expression faltered, barely perceptible, but Rafayel caught it instantly. His head tilted slightly, amusement fading into mild confusion. "What is it? Wasn't it your favorite?"

Your blood ran cold.

"I told you—multiple times—I hate seafood." Your voice was steady, but the weight behind it was anything but. It wasn’t the mistake itself that stung—it was the realization that followed.

It was her favorite.

The realization came like a blade, cutting through you mercilessly. The past you—the before you—the version of yourself that had lived and loved Rafayel long before your memories had been wiped away.

You weren’t her. You weren’t the one he had fallen for first.

The air in the room felt heavier now, thick with unspoken words.

Rafayel’s face fell. His usual mask of arrogance slipped, replaced by something fleeting—regret, guilt, self-reproach. He cursed himself under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "Ah—sorry… we'll get Chinese, yeah?" His voice, usually so smooth, so effortless, now carried an edge of uncertainty. He was scrambling. He knew he had messed up.

But the damage had already been done.

Because you finally saw it—the cracks in his reassurances. The way his stories about her had painted a picture you could never quite step into. She had been different. More confident. More cunning. More effortlessly herself.

More like the version of you that you always wished to be.

Your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you turned away from him. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Not now.

"Cutie…" His voice dropped to a murmur, gentle, coaxing. You felt his fingers ghost toward your cheek, but you recoiled before he could touch you.

That reaction made something shift in him.

The softness vanished, replaced by something colder. His jaw tensed, his lips parting slightly in what could have been a plea—but he hesitated.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat.

"Did you love her more, Rafayel?"

The words cut through the silence like a blade. There was no teasing lilt in your voice, no room for him to twist the moment into something playful. No. This time, you weren’t giving him an escape.

His body went rigid, his lips parting slightly as if the sheer audacity of the question had momentarily stolen his breath. Then, panic flickered in his eyes—just for a second.

"What?—Of course not!" The words left him too quickly, too forcefully. "I mean, god, you're the same person." His voice was rough, desperate, but the way he said it—like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you—made your stomach churn.

"Liar."

A whisper. Sharp. Accusing.

You pushed yourself up, slipping from his grasp, but Rafayel moved fast, his fingers catching your wrist before you could step away. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to make you halt.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." Your voice wavered, but your resolve did not. "I can't—I don't want to talk to you right now."

He tensed. "Y/N, don’t do this—"

"I need time." You exhaled, voice gentler now, but firm. "We’ll talk when I’m ready."

You didn’t wait for his reply.

The moment you slipped from his grasp, the warmth of his touch faded, replaced by the chilling weight of distance. And as you walked toward the door, you felt his gaze burning into your back.

But he didn’t chase you.

Not this time.

And as the door shut behind you, leaving Rafayel alone on his vast, king-sized bed, you both knew—

This wasn’t the end of the conversation.

Not even close.

Sylus

The silk sheets pooled beneath you as you sat on Sylus' bed, the fabric smooth against your skin. The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in golden hues, casting long shadows as you rummaged through the bags at your feet—your most recent indulgence. Or rather, his indulgence.

"You didn’t have to buy all this for me, you know," you murmured without looking up, fingers brushing over the expensive fabrics, the scent of luxury still clinging to them.

Across from you, Sylus leaned against the grand headboard, his arms lazily crossed, an amused smirk playing at his lips. His crimson eyes glimmered under the dim light, ever watchful, ever knowing.

"And yet, somehow, I still managed to," he mused, his voice a smooth melody laced with amusement. "Truly tragic, how I remain cursed with wealth and the urge to spoil you."

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

"Why don’t you give me a fashion show, sweetie?" he suggested, tilting his head slightly.

Your excitement sparked instantly. You barely spared him a glance before gathering the bags and rushing into the bathroom, the sound of his low chuckle following you as you disappeared behind the door.

As you sifted through the clothes, something caught your eye—a dress you didn’t remember picking out. The color was… odd. Not bad, necessarily, but definitely not something you would have chosen for yourself. It washed you out in a way that felt unnatural, like a version of you that wasn’t quite right.

Sylus.

You sighed, shaking your head with a fond smile. He had excellent taste; he’d picked out dresses for you before—ones that flattered your figure, ones that made you feel effortlessly beautiful. But this? This felt like it belonged to someone else.

Still, you slipped it on. It’s always nice to try something new, you reasoned. And besides, you could always return it.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you straightened your posture, putting on your best model walk as you sauntered toward him with a small, playful smile.

Sylus’ gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate.

"You look ravishing," he murmured, his deep voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. He pushed off the headboard and closed the space between you in an instant, his hands slipping to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm and intoxicating.

"You think?" you asked, though your gaze drifted downward again, fingers idly smoothing over the fabric.

"That’s a rather interesting choice, boss." The nickname was teasing, but there was a layer of curiosity beneath it. "I don’t think I like this color on me, but if you do… I suppose I’ll wear it anyway."

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"Nonsense," he dismissed easily. "You’ve always looked stunning in this color. Or any color, for that matter, kitten."

Something in your chest twisted.

Your brows knitted together slightly as you peered up at him. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe he meant nothing by it. And yet—

"I’ve never worn this color before, though." You chuckled, keeping your tone light, masking the unease settling at the edges of your mind.

Sylus said nothing at first. A beat of silence stretched between you, but his grip didn’t falter. His expression remained unreadable, except for the slight glint of something in his crimson eyes—something calculated.

You knew this game. You knew how he played.

He was refined, meticulous with his words, carefully measured in everything he did. Sylus didn’t make mistakes.

And yet, you had caught one.

He loved you. That, you never doubted. His devotion was absolute, unwavering. But there was always this—this lingering ghost of someone else. A woman you had once been. A woman you no longer remembered. A woman you weren’t even sure you were.

And yet, she still lived here. In his mind. In his stories. In his memories of you.

"I can practically hear your mind working." His voice was smooth, but there was a quiet edge to it. "Speak."

You hesitated. You didn’t want to ruin the moment. Didn’t want to pick at something that might unravel everything.

"You seem to like reminiscing about the past," you finally said, keeping your voice even, careful.

His eyes darkened slightly.

"Of course," he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Why wouldn’t I? The moments I’ve spent with the one I love should not be forgotten."

Your chest tightened.

He didn’t see it the way you did. To him, the past and the present were intertwined, threads of the same existence. But to you? The past felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

"Is that so?" Your lips curved into a wry smile, though the bitterness in your voice was barely concealed. "Then tell me, Sylus—who do you love more? Her or me?"

It was meant to sound like a joke. A playful jab. But the moment the words left your lips, the room shifted. His grip on your waist tightened, his body going still. His expression didn’t change, but you knew him well enough to see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"What kind of question is that, kitten?" His voice remained steady, but there was something underneath it now—something more careful.

"It doesn’t matter if it’s the past or the present I’m thinking about—it’s always you on my mind."

But it didn’t feel like it.

Not in the way that mattered.

You swallowed, the months of quiet insecurities bubbling up, spilling over before you could stop them. "I don’t want you to think about her," you admitted, voice quieter now but no less firm. "It’s in the past—the past I don’t even remember."

A beat of silence.

For the first time that night, Sylus looked genuinely caught off guard. His expression wavered for the briefest moment before something else took its place—something softer.

"…I apologize." His voice, always so effortlessly poised, now carried an unfamiliar weight. "I never meant to make you feel that way, sweetheart. I won’t mention it again."

And yet—right now, it wasn’t enough.

"I need a moment for myself." The words left you before you could think them through.

You turned, ready to step away, but his fingers curled around your wrist—not tight, not forceful, just there.

"I won’t stop you," he murmured. "Take all the time you need." His hand lifted, brushing against your cheek, his touch warm, careful. You refused to meet his gaze, afraid of the emotions that might spill over if you did.

"But know that —when you’re ready, I’ll be right here."

A pause. Then, softer—so tender it nearly broke you—

"I love you."

And then, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head before letting you go.

And just like that, you slipped away from him.

Out of the room, out of his reach, out into the night, letting the wind carry you as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions inside you.

You weren’t sure how long it would take. An hour, a day, a month.

But Sylus—he would wait.

He always did.

Caleb

A/N:For Caleb, I decided to twist it a little and instead make it about your future self. Hope that's alright!

It was always easy to be carefree with Caleb nearby.

He made the world feel manageable—as if no matter what went wrong, he would be there, steady as ever, grounding you with nothing more than a glance. You hated how much you depended on him, how much you needed him, but he made it feel so natural, so right.

And even now, as you perched on the kitchen counter, watching the way his muscled back flexed with each movement, the rhythmic sound of his knife against the cutting board filling the space between you, you thought—maybe this is it. Maybe this is all I need.

Your gaze lingered. It was the only sight you ever wanted to see.

Caleb, as if sensing your attention, let out a low chuckle. "I can feel you staring, pipsqueak." He turned his head slightly, a boyish grin tugging at his lips. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"

Your heart stuttered. No matter how much he changed over the years, that grin—that teasing, infuriating grin—never did.

"You're a terrible chef," you huffed, crossing your arms. "I’ve been waiting for my dish for, what? An hour now?"

He snorted. "Fifteen minutes, actually."

"Felt longer."

"Impatient as ever." He shook his head, flipping something onto a plate with practiced ease.

You chuckled softly, but the warmth in your chest flickered, cooling as a shadow of uncertainty crept into your mind. You hated thinking about the future. The unpredictability of it, the way it loomed, stretching out like an abyss, no matter how tightly you tried to hold onto the present.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Caleb moving until his presence was right there. His hand shot out, pinching your cheek.

"Finally got your attention, pips." His voice was teasing, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

You groaned, swatting his hand away as he set your plate aside. His violet eyes—always so sharp, so unnervingly aware—locked onto yours.

"What's going on in that little head of yours, hmm?" He leaned in slightly, voice still playful, but now edged with something serious.

You hesitated.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid to ask. But the words clawed at your throat, relentless.

"I was just thinking..." you mumbled, staring down at your dangling feet.

"Rare sight." He smirked.

You shot him a glare and shoved at his chest, earning a low chuckle.

"Shut up." You exhaled, fingers tightening around the hem of your shirt. Then, before you could lose your nerve— "Caleb, do you see me in your future?"

The teasing glint in his eyes faded instantly.

For the first time in the conversation, his smirk disappeared, replaced by something unreadable. He stared at you, brow furrowing slightly, as if trying to figure out why the hell you’d ask something so ridiculous.

Then—without hesitation— "You’re the only thing I’m certain about in my future."

Your breath hitched.

"It’s you, by my side, exploiting me as your personal slave." His lips quirked up, but you knew him too well. The humor was a shield, a flimsy attempt to soften the truth beneath it.

And the truth was—Caleb didn’t make promises easily. He was a liar, through and through. You knew that. Hell, he was probably the biggest liar you’d ever met.

But right now?

There was no lie in his voice. No hesitation in his certainty.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t feel so terrifying.

But doubt was a cruel thing. It never let go easily.

"But what if I’m not the same?" you murmured, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your shirt.

Caleb scoffed, ruffling your hair with a tenderness that contradicted the smug grin on his face.

"Then I’ll adapt to whatever version of you I get." His voice was soft, but his grip—his presence—was solid.

Your throat tightened as warmth bloomed in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, breathing him in.

"Even if I become the worst version of myself?" you teased, tilting your head slightly.

Caleb hummed, amused. "If that’s the case, I’ll just make sure I become the best version of myself." He leaned in, voice dropping to something lower, something that sent a shiver down your spine. "And if your worst self turns out to be particularly sadistic, well..." His lips barely brushed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I’ll make sure to satisfy your cravings, baby"

Heat coiled in your stomach. You barely had a second to react before he pulled back, pressing a finger to your lips just as you tried to close the distance.

"Ah-ah. Eat first, pips."

You groaned. "You’re impossible."

He chuckled, eyes glinting with something dark, something possessive. Something that promised—no matter what version of yourself you became, he would always be there.

With Caleb, there was only one certainty in life—

You would always have someone who loved you unconditionally.

[blairenqs]

୨୧ FIRST KISS ✧ SPENCER REID

───── IN WHICH 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 !

𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗂𝖽 𝓍 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝟣.𝟢𝖪 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ♡ ⎯⎯ 𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝒾𝖵𝖤

YOU HAVE BEEN SEEING spencer reid for about three months now, and it still felt so weirdly surreal.

working at the bau was a challenging task enough, but falling for someone as brilliant, kind, and utterly endearing as spencer reid had added a whole new layer to your life.

it wasn’t something you planned—it never was in a place like the bau, where the cases were tough and heavy, and relationships were rare to have.

but spencer was different.

he wasn’t like anyone else. his shy smiles, his awkward rambles about random facts, the way he held his coffee mug with both hands like it was the most precious thing in the world—it all had you wrapped around his finger before you even realized it.

he didn’t seem to know the effect he had on you, and that only made him more charming—you’ve never been able to resist his soft, hesitant energy, and now that you were dating, you couldn’t help but indulge in the affection you felt for him. —READ MORE!

you had a soft spot for him—a big one. and tonight, after another sweet date, that affection bubbled out in over in a way neither of you quite expected.

spencer walked you to your apartment door, just as he always did—it was one of the many little things he did that showed you how thoughtful he was, even if he tried to play it ‘cool’.

his hand rested gently at your back as you approached the door, his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“this was really nice,” he said softly, his voice laced with that nervous energy you found so endearing. he rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as he looked at you through his lashes.

“i mean, i know we’ve only been to that restaurant once before, but statistically, the likelihood of it becoming ‘our spot’ is… probably high.”

you smiled, biting back a laugh. “i like the sound of that a lot, our spot.”

his face lit up at your words, the corners of his lips pointing into a bashful grin that made your heart flutter.

spencer reid, the genius profiler with an iq of 187 and an eidetic memory, could still blush like a schoolboy when you said something sweet to him.

“good,” he said quietly, his voice a soft whisper. his gaze lingered on you, his brown eyes warm and unwavering, and for a moment—the world around you two seemed to fade away.

you felt a surge of affection rise in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed him.

it was a short kiss, just a gentle press of your lips against his, but it was enough to send spencer into a complete slump.

when you pulled back, he stood there frozen, his eyes wide and his lips parted as if he was trying to form words but couldn’t.

you giggled softly at his shyness, taking a step back toward your door. “goodnight, spence.”

but before you could turn the handle, his hand shot out to gently grab your wrist. you turned back to him—surprised, and found him looking at you with an expression you couldn’t figure out.

shy—yes, but there was something else there too, something that clouded the room with no words.

“c-can i… can i kiss you again?” he stammered, his voice unsteady and shaking with nervousness. your heart melted on the spot. “you can do whatever you want, spence.”

that was all the encouragement he needed—his hands came up to cup your face, his long fingers threading gently into your hair as he leaned in and kissed you.

this time it wasn’t just a quick, hesitant peck. it was soft and slow, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak.

you responded immediately, your hands finding their way to his chest as you leaned into him—his touch was careful at first, hesitant, as if he was afraid of doing it wrong.

but as the kiss deepened, he grew more confident. his hands slipped down to your neck, his thumbs brushing your jawline as he tilted your head just slightly to get a better angle.

you sighed into the kiss, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his sweater—his lips were impossibly soft, and he tasted faintly of the honey he’d stirred into his tea earlier.

every little thing about him made your heart race and you couldn’t help but tug gently at his hair—resulting in a soft, surprised sound from him.

it was like a spark had been lit. spencer’s grip on your neck tightened just slightly, his fingers digging in with a new kind of urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.

he kissed you harder, his movements reckless and desirable, like he couldn’t get enough of you. you weren’t much better. your hands slid up to his shoulders, then around to the back of his neck, your fingers threading through his hair.

you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together as the kiss grew more heated. “spence,” you whispered against his lips, breathless.

he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath—his eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks flushed, and his lips red and swollen from kissing.

he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

“do you…” you hesitated, your voice a soft whisper as you ran your fingers through his hair. “do you want to stay the night?”

spencer blinked, his lips parting as he processed your words. and then, in a voice so sure it made your stomach flip, he said—“absolutely.”

a giddy laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it—and he smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he kissed you again, soft and sweet and full of unspoken words.

the night was just beginning, but as far as you were concerned—you’d already found your favorite part. spencer reid was yours.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

© blairenqs 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

✧ 𝑓. i’m so stressed with school rn oh my god 😭 send help plz. also thank u guys for 100 followers already !! 🥹🫶 i’m so honoured with all the support hehe <3 also this was inspired by early seasons spencer if u couldn’t tell 😔 #imissmyshaylaaaa

𓂃ㅤ 𝓉𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ୨୧ @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @lcvealwayss @viennasolace ♡ thank you so much for joining !

[cutehoons02]

Do you want to kiss my face?

*pairing: hot loser Sunghoon x tiktoker Girl

*trope: grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: What would happen if for almost a year you had fallen into a situanship with the boy of your dreams as well as Sunghoon and that day you had thought to play with him, Try to make it fall at your feet with a simple trend seen on tik tok where you had to fill all the face of kissing your boyfriend but maybe you did not realize that maybe it was not you who won but him!

*tags: Trending Tik Tok, a lot of fluffy moments but at the same time they tease each other, Sunghoon is really an underdog for her but is afraid of his feelings, fake innocent girl, a lot of kisses, sucking, nipple games, masturbation (f. receives) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) jealousy, groveling, possessiveness, pet names (angel,baby) (hoon,hoonie)

5.1k (💋)

(English is not my native language)

A situationship is that ambiguous territory where you find yourself with someone you like but without clear labels. You are not officially a couple, but you act as if you were: spend time together, share intimate moments, and care for each other, but without the "serious" that often accompanies a relationship. It is like living in limbo, where you are both aware of feelings but avoid facing them openly.

With Sunghoon, you were stuck in this situation for almost a year. You loved it, but he always seemed a little distant, a little cynical, and every time you tried to clarify your situation, he avoided the subject. But that day, something had changed. While you were scrolling on TikTok, you came across a funny and affectionate trend: a video where you had to kiss his face, from side to side, then take it back and finally show it covered in kisses.

A cunning smile spread across your face as you pictured yourself doing it with Sunghoon. Maybe this would break the ice, you thought. And so, with a renewed determination, you decided to go into his dorm room and try to drive him crazy like you usually do.

When Heeseung one of Sunghoon’s roommates opened for you, the apartment had the usual chaos experienced: jackets thrown on a chair, a pair of sneakers forgotten in the corridor, glasses left on the coffee table, bowls full of ramen and in the living room there was a huge amount of cables connected to the TV to play those nerd games on the TV.

With a nod, you took off your shoes and headed without hesitation to Sunghoon’s room and knocked twice before opening it without even hearing "an forward" from the master of the room.

He was lying on the bed, illuminated only by the cold light of the monitor. On the screen, a scene from a horror film: screams, blood, disturbing shadows. He had one hand under his head, the other on the keyboard, ready to pause. When he saw you, he lifted himself slightly on his elbows, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and mistrust.

«What are you doing here?» he said suspiciously.

You leaned against the doorknob of his door with a cunning smile and a grin that brought no good.

"Wow, what a warm welcome," you said crossing your arms

«You didn’t answer the question.» said the half-lying boy on the bed while not taking his eyes off you

"And you didn’t say 'hi'. You said with a grin.

Sunghoon sighed and ran his hand through his hair, had seen you countless times in the university halls, at sorority parties, and at the bar of the university but every time he saw you his heart was always beating more than it should and this thing made him crazy because he was the one who hated to show his feelings to people or even worse his emotions that felt.

«Hi. Now answer my question» You stepped forward, looked at the screen, and raised your eyes.

"Are you spending the evening watching horror alone?"

«Better than going to those parties you love so much.» he sighed

"Or maybe you would have preferred to be with me," you insinuated, leaning slightly forward and Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, then looked away, suspicious.

«Wait a minute... why are you here, exactly? You didn’t have to be in some club having fun with your friends...»

You sat on the edge of the bed, deliberately ignoring his scrutinizing gaze.

"Can’t I just want to spend some time with you?» you said, lightly touching the tufts of his tuft that were growing ever.

«No, because when you make that face, you have something in mind.» a small smile complicit curled your lips. Sunghoon knew you better than yourself sometimes and this thing scared you because he was the only one who could put you in your place and not let you behave like a spoiled girl.

"Maybe so," you said in a funny whisper

Sunghoon leaned against the back of his bed, crossing his arms.

«I knew something was up. Tell me what you want right now before I get more scared than the movie.»

"Oh, Hoonie, trust me, what I have in mind is much scarier than any horror!"

He looked at you, unsure whether to worry or give up immediately.

«I don’t like the way it sounds.»

"But I’m sure you’ll like it."

Sunghoon gasped, but the blush on his ears betrayed him.

«I have a terrible suspicion that I will regret it.»

You laugh, reaching out to grab the mouse and pause the movie.

"Come on, you’ll only find out if you listen to me." Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, then sighed theatrically.

«This is a terrible idea and I don’t even know what you’re going to do to me.»

"Bad ideas always become the best if you make them with the right people!" And as he sat down reluctantly, he already knew that he would have no escape.

You took out your phone and got closer to Sunghoon, with a little smirk on your lips.

"Okay, Hoon, I want to try this trend with you." Sunghoon didn’t even bother to look at you with his eyes still fixed on the screen.

«No,» he said without hesitation

You snorted, showing the video you had saved on TikTok with enthusiasm

"But look what it is!" you said with a frown while you teased his biceps

«I don’t care,» he said as he tried not to listen

"Come on! All my friends are doing it with their boyfriends!"

At those words, Sunghoon slowly turned to you, looking at you with a suspicious expression.

«So what?»

" I want to do it too!" you said with a smile full of hope but he blinked, then raised an eyebrow.

«Little problem: I’m not your boyfriend.»

You stood for a moment in silence, surprised by his answer, God could not stand when he behaved like this, All the people when they saw you thought you were engaged but he had never dared to ask and well you were stubborn and did not want to give in and so crossed your arms with a frown visible in the eyes of Sunghoon.

"What a nice way to tell me no." Sunghoon sighed and went back to watch the movie as if the conversation was already over but you, you just snapped out of bed.

"All right then, I’ll go find someone else," you said as you walked out of his door

«What?!» Sunghoon snapped at you with the film completely forgotten.

"If you don’t want to do it, I’ll find someone else. Maybe Heeseung is available," you said with a smirk, and Sunghoon’s expression darkened instantly.

«You will not do it with Heeseung,» he told you so coldly and you stared at him with a smirk.

"Why not?" you said innocently and he clenched his jaw, visibly annoyed by your spoiled child behavior

«Because it’s ridiculous.»

"Oh, so if I do it with someone other than you is ridiculous, but if I do it with you isn’t ridiculous anymore?" Sunghoon snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

«It’s a problem if you do it with Heeseung or any other guy who isn’t me,» he said, touching my hair in frustration.

"So are you jealous?" you asked with a clever smile.

«No,» he replied too quickly and you looked at him, amusing yourself.

"If you say so... then I’m going, eh."

You tried to turn around, but in a moment Sunghoon reached out and grabbed you by the wrist, holding you.

«Wait.» you turned, holding back barely a victorious smile.

"Yes?"

He avoided your visibly battered look, then puffed.

«Take the lipstick. But don’t abuse it.»

"So you do it?"

Sunghoon glanced at you, cheeks slightly flushed.

«... Better me than Heeseung.» You laughed, taking out the lipstick from the bag.

"Good one, Hoon. I knew you’d give in." He sighed, taking a last look at the film.

«I’ll regret it, won’t I?»

"Nah," You answered, approaching you with lipstick in hand. Sunghoon put the computer away with a sigh and settled more comfortably on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.

«Okay, let me see this ridiculous trend."

You sat down beside him with enthusiasm and showed him the video on your phone screen. Sunghoon watched in silence as the girl in the video gave a single kiss on the boy’s cheek, then the video cut him completely covered with lipstick prints all over his face and neck.

He stood still for a couple of seconds, then turned to you with his eyebrow raised.

«You do realize this is an assault, right?» you laugh, shaking the lipstick between your fingers. "Oh, stop it. That’s cute!"

«For whom? For you, that you enjoy torturing me?»

"Exactly." Sunghoon puffed, but the look he gave you was more amused than irritated.

«All right, let’s get it over with». You smiled triumphantly and approached, riding on his legs without thinking too much.

Sunghoon stiffened at once, his eyes wide open in shock.

«What-what the hell are you doing?»

"I make things easier for both of us," You replied with a natural response as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He remained petrified for a few seconds, the look glued to you, then slowly laid his hands on your hips, the big fingers closing with a slight hesitation.

«You’re dangerous,» he murmured, trying to seem impassive, but the blush on his ears betrayed him and you laughed because he was adorable.

"And you’re adorable when you pretend to be indifferent." Sunghoon sighed, trying to relax.

«Let’s move on before I change my mind.»

You picked up the phone and started recording, came closer and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, then walked away with a satisfied smile.

"See? Easy." Sunghoon nodded in a feigned professional tone.

«If it ended here, I would say that it was even pleasant.»

"But that’s not the end of it," You said, laughing

Before he could protest, you reapplied lipstick with a diabolical air and started the second part.

The first kiss was on the jaw. The second is near the corner of the mouth. The third is on the cheekbone. Sunghoon had started with a cynical expression, but as you continued, his breath became slightly deeper, his hands on his hips clenched instinctively.

«That’s an abuse,» he muttered, but his voice was strangely lower than usual and you smiled at his skin.

"Oh, stop it. You like it."

Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately, but when you came down with kisses along the neck, you felt his fingers clench even more in your hips.

«Wait a second»

"Shhh." You left him a kiss right under his ear, and you heard Sunghoon hold his breath for a second.

«...You are the devil.» he finally said in a slightly more husky voice.

"And you’re my favorite loser," You replied, chuckling as you walked away to admire his masterpiece. Sunghoon leaned against the headboard of the bed, eyes closed for a second as if he was to recover. Then he looked at you with an amused expression.

«Finished?» You checked the phone and smiled satisfied, the video had come out great and it also looked very funny but the thing that made your heart warm was how Sunghoon was looking at you and you couldn’t hold it anymore.

"Finished. You’re beautiful." Sunghoon snorted, but the smile on his lips betrayed him.

«If anyone sees this, I will move to another country.»

"Too late, I post it on TikTok."

«You don’t- wait, you won’t really post it!»

You laughed while he tried to rip the phone out of your hands but you were faster and you had just published it and there were already likes on the video. Sunghoon speed took your phone and watched the video there was a video of himself, completely covered in kisses, with the caption: "With my fav loser bf ❤️💋"

He was petrified for a few seconds. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward her. «Tell me you didn’t post it."

You just laughed, rocking slightly while still sitting on his lap.

"Come on, it’s so cute! Look at the comments, people love us."

«We are not a couple,» he replied immediately.

You shook your shoulders carelessly, pretending that his words did not hurt.

"BF stands for best friend." When Sunghoon heard those words you stuck, best friend. Did you just consider him a simple best friend?

His brain instantly jammed. They had never been friends. Not in the true sense of the word. Not when he spent his evenings watching you laugh, wondering if it was legal for someone to be so bright. Not when his heart made a small leap every time you got too close and certainly not when he imagined you in much less innocent contexts, like with that damn lipstick smudged because of him.

Best friend?

The cock.

Without thinking too much, his hands on your hips squeezed slightly and, with a smooth movement, he pulled up a little, getting closer to you even more and you looked at him surprised.

"Sunghooon?" He did not answer. The dark eyes fixed on yours, the fingers pressing lightly on your skin, the breath heavier than usual.

And then, without a moment’s hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss was not sweet, it was a direct hit, a statement, a warning. His lips moved on you with an almost frustrated intensity, his hands held you in your hips, as if he was afraid that you would run away from him, and when he came off, your breaths were entangled. You looked at him with your eyes wide open, completely speechless and Sunghoon ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the taste of lipstick again. Then, with a low and confident voice, he said: «I’m not your best friend.»

You stared at him, the heart that beat a thousand, and a funny smile formed in your lips again savoring the sweet taste of his lips that had kissed you a few seconds before.

"Oh,." He tilted his head slightly.

Oh?» he repeated, raising an eyebrow. «Is that all you have to say?»

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, the brain desperately trying to recover. Then, finally, you let slip a clever little smile.

"So... if you’re not my best friend, then what are you?"

Sunghoon looked at you for a long moment, then slowly ran his hands down your hips, getting closer still but you saw that he didn’t really know what to say and you were tired of seeing him so confused, this time it was you who kissed him. Your lips melted to hers in a deep kiss, initially sweet, but that soon turned into something more intense. Your hands went up his neck, fingers intertwined in his soft hair. Hoon hesitated for a moment, surprised, but then his arms stretched around you with possessive force.

The kiss continued, the beating of your heart accelerated, and your breathing intertwined. When you finally came off, his look was uncertain, but his lips were slightly closed, red and shiny for your lipstick. It made you smile to see him so vulnerable and beautiful. With your thumbs trembling, you brushed the contour of her lips, spreading the lipstick slightly out from the edges.

"You’re beautiful," you whispered, as your breath touched her skin.

Hoon swallowed, Adam’s apple moved visibly, and you noticed the redness on his cheeks. But before he could say anything, you tilted your face and began to kiss his neck but this time no longer sweetly but you wanted them to know that he was yours. You felt his body stretch under your touch, and a low moan escaped from his lips as he uttered your name.

«Angel, you have no idea what you are doing to me,» he said in a roaring voice, and you felt the heat rising in your body.

Without thinking about it, you pulled off the sweatshirt and wow,

His biceps looked even more sculpted than the last time you saw him. You did not resist the temptation to run your fingers over it, your red nails left a slight shiver on her skin. " With these biceps, you could make another TikTok trend, the one with the bow..." you laughed.

He puffed, but the smile that bent his lips betrayed the fun. «You can do what you want with it, Angel.»

You lit up with a cunning smile and began to kiss him on the chest, going down slowly to his navel. You felt his breath become irregular as if he was holding something. But you wanted him to go crazy, you wanted him to completely lose control. So, with the same gentle slowness, you continued, leaving a kiss just below the navel.

His reaction was immediate: his breath became heavier and you felt its length grow under the suit. You looked up at him, biting your lip with a mischievous smirk. "Is anyone excited?" You provoked, rubbing lightly against him.

Hoon blinked, as if he was trying to maintain his lucidity, then grabbed you firmly by the hips, pulling you closer. «I shouldn’t call you Angel, but hell,» she whispered with a grin, before catching your lips again in a deeper, more desperate kiss.

Hoon was fucked by you. In that moment, but also others, you were the one who had control, and seeing how you rubbed over him made him lose his mind. He felt his cock getting harder and bigger in contact with your center as you swung slightly and with his arms took you by the hips and laid you down in bed. He climbed up on you and with a satisfied smirk said:

"Let’s see who laughs now.» You still laughed, but the sound of your laughter soon turned into a thrill when he took off your shirt with a single gesture. His eyes darkened at the sight of your red bra, and he noticed how your tender buds were already turgid. He did not waste time, took it away from you without asking and when he saw your breasts slightly bouncing in plain sight, he lost all control. His big hands grabbed your breasts, squeezing them slightly, causing a shiver down your back.

«Damnation, angel...» he muttered before bending down and kissing your breast, licking your nipples with exasperating slowness, nibbling them just to tease you; Your breasts were perfect for his big hands and he saw how sensitive your buds were when they touched his cold fingers or contact with his tongue as he sucked you and tickled them and felt how hard they were.

You rolled up your back, his attentions were driving you crazy, and you felt his length getting harder and harder, rubbing against you through the clothes.

«My sweet and innocent angel is so needy of my attentions?» he provoked you with a roaring voice and amused, continuing to torment your body.

You gave him a defiant look, biting your lower lip. "I’m not as innocent as you think."

He laughed but stopped abruptly to leave a kiss on your navel. Then, without warning, he lowered his hand and touched your center still covered by panties, making you shudder.

«So wet and needy for me,» he whispered, with a voice charged with desire and malice.

His dark gaze, burning with desire, rested upon you and his mischievous smile made you hold your breath.

«All for me," he whispered, with that low, husky voice that drove you crazy as she took off your panties and his fingers brushed your clitoris with a delicacy that made you tremble. And then, without warning, he pushed a finger into you, ripping off a choked-out groan.

"Hoonie..." his name slipped from your lips without you being able to stop, and it was your ruin.

His eyes darkened, his lips bent in a satisfied smile, and he immediately added another finger, moving them with studied precision, as if he wanted to carve you into pleasure. You felt trapped, but at the same time, you didn’t want to run away. Because you knew he would keep on begging you.

«Look how responsive your body is to me,» he whispered, leaning over you as his fingers did not begin to stop. «You like it when I take control, don’t you?»

A groan, louder than expected, confirmed his answer.

«I knew it...» he laughed softly, his mouth hot against your skin. «Always so stubborn, but look how you melt for me.»

With his other hand, he moved on your breast, stroking and teasing your sensitive buds until another whimper was torn from you. Then, as he kept moving his fingers inside you, her thumb found the clitoris again, brushing it with perfect pressure, which made you completely lose control.

Sunghoon kept pumping his fingers inside you and they were full of your excitement and he thought he could come in that exact instant while you moaned his name, took his fingers well, and diminished yourself to get more and more from him.

«You’re so tight around my fingers... who knows what it will be like when there’s my dick in their place»

You felt overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that shattered you, your body trembled and your breath was broken. Hoon stopped only when he heard you relax under him and come between his fingers, then pulled back his fingers and brought them to his lips, tasting you with a smug smirk.

«So, good» he muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on you as his tongue touched his fingers. «But I want much more, Angel.»

Your fingers trembled slightly as you undressed his boxers, and your breath slid down your throat. Gosh. It was long, full, tense with desire for you, with a drop of clear liquid shining on the tip. Instinctively, you licked your lips, eyes chained to its length.

Hoon laughed softly, his voice low and husky. «You’re so impatient, angel...» he whispered as he sucked his cock slightly. «Tell me how much you want it.»

You looked at it, your face lit up, the desire that clouded your mind. "I want it," you murmured. "I want it as much as you want me."

A dark flash crossed his gaze, his lips curled into an arrogant smile. He grabbed the base of his erection and, without warning, passed it slowly over your bright, excited entrance, touching your swollen clitoris, and making you shudder beneath him.

"Hoonie..." your impatient whining made him laugh again, but there was a tension in his gaze as if he was about to lose control.

«Don’t be capricious, little one," he murmured against your mouth, the tip of her member pressed right where you wanted it most. «You like to be teased, don’t you?»

"You’re an asshole..." moans, nails sinking into his shoulders as he kept torturing you with those slow and provocative movements.

«Mm, yet...» He pushed himself in with a single, fluid thud, filling you completely, and a high moan escaped from your lips. «... You are so tight around me, angel.»

A choked scream escaped you, but he was quick to cover your mouth with one hand, his eyes shining with pure lust. «Do you want the whole dorm to know that I’m fucking you so well?»

You shook your head frantically, but when he came out almost completely and then went back in, deeper, stronger, your body betrayed your voice and another harsh moan escaped you.

Hoon licked his lower lip, smug. «Baby, it seems like you want everyone to know that you’re all mine.»

Hoon had always made you crazy, but never as in that moment.

Hoon had always made you crazy, but never as in that moment. His hands held your hips with a firm grip as if he wanted to mark you, hold you still beneath him as he sank deep inside you with a slow, deep thrust, making you feel every inch of his excitement and his cock filled you so deeply that you never had enough.

His dark eyes were pointed at yours, full of desire and pure dominion. He licked his lips, watching you writhing beneath him, your groans choked by his fingers playing with your swollen and pulsating clitoris.

«Tell me, angel... who is winning between me and you?» whispered with a perverse smile, her voice husky and low as the thumb began to massage your swollen clitoris more firmly.

You were hungry, the pleasure that ate you made it impossible to talk, but Hoon was not the kind to wait. His big hand slid up your throat, squeezing it slightly as his gaze grew even more intense.

«Answer, baby,» he ordered, sinking deeper into you, making you moan loudly. «You feel so good below me, but I want to hear you say it."

"Y-Yes... you’re winning. I’m coming," you panicked, your body trembling at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you mercilessly.

A satisfied grin appeared on his lips. «Good girl,» he murmured, bowing down to bite your ear lobe, while with one last push your body gave in completely to pleasure, making you scream her name.

To hear you hold him so tight made him crazy. «Fucking perfect...» He growled against your skin, increased the rhythm with powerful and fast movements, the bed that slammed against the wall at every stroke. «God, you are mine... Only mine.»

"H-Hoon... I want you inside me," he groaned, his body still in the throes of orgasm spasms while he wouldn’t slow down.

«You know what I want, angel?»

growled against your neck, giving you a small bite while with two last, violent pushes she let go inside of you, filling you completely. «I want you to remember who made you feel this way.»

He remained within you for a few seconds, gasping, as his gaze burned against yours. Then, with a smug smile, he bowed down to kiss you on the lips softly, with a sweetness in contrast to the intensity just before.

He looked down to the point where they were still joined and caressed your inner thigh, watching her seed slowly dripping out of you and the various strands of semen coming from your pussy. His grin became even more mischievous as he ran his tongue over his lips.

«You are so beautiful,» he murmured, with a husky and satisfied voice. «All full of me...»

He looked up to meet yours, dark eyes full of desire and possession. «And now don’t even try to run away, because I’m going to fill you up again.»

And with another slow and deep push, he made you realize that that night was still long.

Hoon was still lying on the bed, his breathing heavy and steady as a hand caressed your bare back. You were leaning against his chest, but your mind was far away, full of doubts and insecurities that you didn’t even want to admit to yourself.

Yet, the more time passed, the more a strange feeling gripped your stomach.

What if it was just a game to him? The thought tormented you. You didn’t want that night to be just a passing moment, an impulse he would forget the next day. Sunghoon had always been important to you. He was never just a friend, never just a crush.

You realized that you were torturing the nails of his nervous hand, while with the other you played with Sunghoon’s fingers, drawing little circles on the back of his hand.

«Why are you so serious?» he asked suddenly, his voice slightly hoarse. «It’s strange to see you so silent.» You shook your head, avoiding his gaze.

"Nothing, it’s just that..." You took a deep breath, then you pulled yourself up slightly. "Maybe I should go home." Sunghoon immediately rose on his elbows, confused.

«Wait, what? Why do you want to leave suddenly?»

Bite your lip, fight. You didn’t know how to tell her without looking stupid, without looking too much.

"I don’t know," You said finally, angry with yourself for not being able to find the right words.

Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment, his face slightly frowning. Then, with a more sweet and chattering tone, he asked:

«Did I do something wrong?» That question made you explode.

"No! That’s the problem!" you slammed, clenching your fists on the blankets. " Me, you did nothing wrong is just that for me it wasn’t just..." you interrupted, narrowing your eyes as if to find the courage to continue. "For me, it wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t a game. I really want you, Sunghoon."

He stood still.

"I want something serious." You kept your voice lower, more vulnerable. "And I’m afraid it was just... a moment for you."

The silence that followed was almost deafening.

You felt ridiculous. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him. Maybe you ruined everything.

But before you could add anything else, Sunghoon moved.

He approached and with an unexpected delicacy took your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes.

You deglutites.

"I... I don’t know." Sunghoon sighed, then ran his hand through his hair, frustrated.

«I’m terrible at these things,» he admitted, looking down for a moment. «I don’t know how to say it right, but-fuck, do you think I’d let anyone kiss me like you did if I didn’t really care? Do you think I could want any girls like I want you, how this evening?»

You looked at him surprised, and he continued, the hands that came to clasp around his.

«I want you. Always. I never wanted to be just your friend, but I didn’t know how to tell you, and you are always so bright, so damn out of my reach... » he interrupted, squeezing his lips in a thin line, then sighed. «But if you really want me, then I am yours with my strengths and weaknesses»

You felt the heart skip a beat.

"Really?" You asked quietly. Sunghoon nodded, a slightly embarrassed smile on his lips.

«Seriously. But on one condition.»

"Which one?"

He gently pulled you towards himself, making you lie on his chest again, and whispered in her ear:

«That TikTok we do it again, but this time the caption will be right and you’ll write that I’m your boyfriend, not your BEST FRIEND!»

You laughed, and the knot in your stomach disappeared completely and maybe that tiktok trend had formed a new pair.

Taglist: @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungshim @luvyen @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @immelissaaa @d4-b1 @firstclassjaylee @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellz @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch

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[kakuvibez]

hello!! I don't know if you take poly requests but could you do Shadow milk cookie x Sua!reader (alien stage) x Pure vanilla hcs? like they're reaction to having an s/o with a really good and soft voice just like how Sua has and could you base readers appearance with Sua except reader has a long hair but still has Sua's features, personality etc. hcs and scenario/s will do! but if you don't do poly rqs then feel free to just separate them! but will really like it more if you do poly but no worries it's up to you!!

yandere one shot/quotes/ hcs; CRK

Since you're my first request for a cookie run kingdom story(?) I want to give you extra (≡^∇^≡)‼️

requested by ; anonymous/ @user / none,,

fandom(s) ; ALNST, CRK

fandom master list(s): master | specific

character(s); Shadow Milk Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie Sua!Reader,

outline; "Can you sing...?"

warning(s) ; yandere themes for extra,,

You have a voice as soft and enchanting as Sua's, with an almost otherworldly tone that makes people stop and listen.

Your appearance mirrors Sua's, but with long, flowing hair that shimmers under the light.

Personality-wise, you're graceful yet mischievous, sometimes teasing but always carrying an air of elegance.

Shadow Milk Cookie

The first time Shadow Milk Cookie heard your voice, he froze. His usual sharp demeanor wavered, his grip tightening around his weapon.

He tells himself it's just a voice, but the way it lingers in his mind? Unacceptable.

"Tch. What kind of spell is this...?"

He acts unaffected, but if anyone else comments on your voice, he glares at them like they dared to touch something precious.

When you sing or hum absentmindedly, he pretends not to listen... but he always is. He sharpens his weapons slower, his mouth flicking in quiet satisfaction.

If anyone insults your voice? Expect immediate violence. "Say that again, and you won't have a voice to speak with."

- Initially, he doesn't react much to your voice. He's so used to harsh, bitter sounds-clashing swords, the echoes of solitude, the weight of his past.

- But then he hears you truly sing. Maybe it's late at night when he can't sleep, and you hum a tune absentmindedly. The moment the melody reaches him, his entire body stills.

- He tries to act indifferent, but is heart clenches. Why does your voice make him feel like this?

- He doesn't admit how much he craves your singing. Instead, he finds excuses to linger near you whenever you hum or speak softly.

- He secretly loves it when you sing just for him, even if he acts annoyed about it. If you stop? He'll grumble something like, "Who told you to stop?"

-barely above a whisper.

- If someone else hears you and compliments your voice? Oh. He does not like that. He'll pull you aside and mutter, "Why do you waste your voice on them?"

- He may not say it outright, but your voice is one of the only things that soothes his restless soul.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

- Pure Vanilla is absolutely mesmerized from the very first time he hears you. Your voice is a gift, a melody that carries warmth and kindness in every note.

- Every time you speak or sing, his eyes light up. He listens with a gentle, almost reverent expression, as if he's hearing something divine.

- "You have the voice of an angel," he murmurs, smiling softly. "Every word you say feels like a blessing."

- He often asks you to sing when he's healing others. He believes your voice alone has the power to mend weary souls, and he's right-your presence alone makes the injured feel at ease.

- He's not the jealous type, but he does feel a little sad when others demand your attention. He cherishes those quiet moments when it's just the two of you, your voice wrapping around him like a warm embrace.

- Pure Vanilla enjoys brushing your long hair as you sing. He finds it soothing, almost like a ritual of love and comfort.

- If he ever sees you upset, he'll softly encourage you to sing for yourself. "Even if no one else is listening, let your voice be a comfort to you as well."

Pure Vanilla Cookie is completely enchanted by your voice. He listens with a dreamy expression, like he's basking in sunlight.

"Your voice is... unlike anything I've ever heard. It soothes even the deepest wounds."

He encourages you to sing or speak freely, even if you're shy about it. He truly believes your voice holds healing properties.

If you ever feel insecure, he'll cup your cheeks gently and remind you: "Even the wind envies the softness of your words."

Loves when you hum while tending to flowers or helping others-it makes everything feel more magical.

He will absolutely ask for lullabies if he's stressed. His trust in you is absolute, and your voice is his greatest comfort.

Shadow Milk pretends to be indifferent, while Pure Vanilla is openly mesmerized. The contrast is amusing.

Shadow Milk is the type to grumble if Pure Vanilla requests a song: "What, you need to be sung to sleep like a child?" But then he stays to listen.

You often tease Shadow Milk about how he always "accidentally" shows up when you're singing. He denies it.

Pure Vanilla thinks your voice could bring peace, while Shadow Milk sees it as a weapon that could distract even the strongest of foes.

They both love you in their own way, but one thing is certain-your voice belongs only to them.

The quiet hum of your melody drifted through the air, carried by the soft night breeze. Sitting beneath a large tree, you let the notes flow effortlessly, your long hair swaying gently.

Pure Vanilla Cookie sat beside you, eyes closed, a peaceful smile gracing his lips. "It feels like a dream..." he murmured. "I could listen to you forever."

A short distance away, Shadow Milk Cookie leaned against the tree with crossed arms, his tail flicking. "Hmph. It's just a song." But the way his ears twitched betrayed his real feelings.

You smirked. "You say that, and yet you're still here."

He clicked his tongue, turning away. "Coincidence."

Pure Vanilla chuckled, his golden eyes twinkling. "Shadow Milk, you don't have to pretend. I see the way you relax when they sing."

Caught off guard, Shadow Milk scoffed but didn't leave. Instead, he muttered, "If you're gonna sing, at least don't stop halfway."

You laughed softly, continuing your song, while both of them-whether they admitted it or not-were completely captivated by you.

They may be different, but one thing is certain: your voice belongs only to them.

Extra!! ; Yandere Headcanons

Yandere! Shadow Milk Cookie

Obsessed. He hates how much he craves your voice, yet it's the only thing that soothes his ever-present rage.

He's always watching-lurking in the shadows, waiting for an excuse to eliminate anyone who gets too close to you.

"You sing too much for others. Do they really deserve to hear you?" His voice is low, almost threatening.

Doesn't like you speaking to others at all. If he catches you singing for someone else, he will glare daggers and find a way to get rid of them.

If anyone insults your voice, expect a body count. He doesn't hesitate.

He sometimes steals things that carry your scent-small ribbons, hair strands caught in your brush-just to keep a part of you when he's alone.

Yandere! Pure Vanilla Cookie

Unlike Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla acts like the perfect lover. He praises you, smiles at you with warmth... but beneath that, there's something unsettling.

"Your voice is a gift to the world, but... perhaps it's best if only I hear it." His tone is gentle, yet firm.

Wants you to sing only for him. If others hear you, he feels betrayed-not that he'd ever punish you outright. No, he'll make you feel guilty instead.

"Do you not love me? Is that why you let others hear your voice?"

If you try to run, he'll act hurt, making you feel like the villain. "I only want to protect you, my dear... why must you try to leave me?"

He will never let you go. If necessary, he'll use magic to erase memories of anyone who's ever heard your voice before.

They hate each other. Shadow Milk is convinced Pure Vanilla is manipulating you, while Pure Vanilla sees Shadow Milk as dangerous.

You? Caught between them. They both believe they're the only one who truly deserves you.

Shadow Milk would rather keep you locked away in darkness, safe from anyone else. Pure Vanilla would keep you in a golden cage, disguised as kindness.

They both find any excuse to keep you away from others. "Stay with me a little longer," Pure Vanilla will plead, while Shadow Milk will forcefully drag you away.

If you try to escape? Pure Vanilla will gaslight you into staying, while Shadow Milk will break anyone who dares help you.

The night was unusually quiet, save for the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Pure Vanilla Cookie sat near a small campfire, his staff resting against his shoulder, while Shadow Milk Cookie leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

You sat between them, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you absentmindedly hummed a tune-soft, dreamlike, carrying a melody neither of them could ignore.

Pure Vanilla's breath hitched, his eyes shimmering with admiration. "That song... it's beautiful."

Shadow Milk Cookie didn't say anything, but his grip on his weapon tightened ever so slightly. The usual tension in his posture seemed to ease.

"You should sing more often," Pure Vanilla encouraged gently, brushing a strand of your long hair behind your ear. "Your voice is... comforting."

"Tch." Shadow Milk Cookie scoffed, turning his gaze away.

Shadow Milk Cookie was hidden among the shadows, his tail flicking in irritation. Too many people had heard you today. He would need to take care of that.

Pure Vanilla Cookie, standing just behind you, smiled. "Your voice is... beautiful as always, my dear."

You turned to him with a soft smile. "Thank you, Vanilla."

Before you could continue, a cold hand grasped your wrist. Shadow Milk Cookie's grip was firm-almost too firm. "Enough," he growled. "You sing too much for others."

Pure Vanilla placed a hand over Shadow Milk's, his expression unreadable. "You shouldn't be so rough with them. You wouldn't want to hurt our precious songbird, would you?"

"Don't act like you're better than me," Shadow Milk spat. "You're just as bad."

You swallowed, heart pounding. There was no escaping them. No matter how sweet their words or how cruel their actions, they would never let you go.

And worst of all? A part of you was starting to wonder if you wanted to leave.

Because when they looked at you like that-like you were the only thing in their world-how could you say no?

No matter where you go, no matter how far you run-your voice, your very existence, belongs to them.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hiiiii can you do a dad!Lando where his young daughter gets surrounded by media and interviews and starts stressing out and is saved by Oscar or someone

Thank youuu x

Safe and sound

Lando had always been careful. No, scratch that—he had been downright paranoid when it came to his daughter, Yn. From the moment he held her for the first time, she had become the center of his world. Everything he did, every choice he made, revolved around the little girl with the brightest smile and the sweetest giggle.

It wasn't that he didn't want to share that joy with others—he did. But the world he lived in, the world of Formula 1, was intrusive. The media could be relentless, the fans too curious. And the last thing Lando wanted was for Yn to be exposed to any of it.

His parents had tried to ease his worries.

"She'll be fine, Lando," his mum had reassured him over the phone. "You know how much she loves watching you race."

"And we'll be there the entire time," his dad added. "You need to trust us."

Lando wanted to believe them. But even with their words echoing in his mind, he hesitated. He had seen how wild things could get on a race weekend. Cameras flashing in his face, fans crowding him the moment he stepped into the paddock. Did he really want to bring Yn into that chaos?

Still, his home race felt different. It was supposed to be special. Maybe it was time.

That was how he found himself parking his car outside the paddock entrance, heart pounding as he turned to glance at the backseat. Yn was happily swinging her legs, her little hands clutching the stuffed bunny she never went anywhere without.

"You excited, bub?" Lando asked, his voice softer than usual.

Yn's face lit up with a smile. "I get to see you drive, Daddy!" Her excitement was infectious, and for a moment, Lando's fears eased.

"Yeah, you do." He reached back, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. "Just stick close to me, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy." Yn nodded solemnly, her bright eyes full of trust.

Taking a deep breath, Lando stepped out of the car and circled to her side. The moment he opened the door, the faint hum of the paddock buzzed around them. Before unbuckling her car seat, he positioned himself carefully, using his back to block the view of any wandering cameras.

"Arms up," he instructed, and when Yn lifted her arms, he scooped her into his chest. Her tiny arms wrapped around his neck as he held her close.

The paddock was already busy, the familiar noise of mechanics and engineers mingling with the distant cheers from the grandstands. Lando tried to focus, tried to push down the rising nerves as he walked briskly toward the McLaren garage.

"Daddy, your shoelace," Yn whispered into his ear, her warm breath tickling his neck.

"Shoot," he muttered under his breath. He crouched down, carefully setting her on her feet. "Stay right here, bub. I'm just gonna tie it real quick."

Yn nodded, her bunny clutched tight in her arms. Lando bent down, fingers working quickly on the knot. It only took a few seconds, but when he stood back up, his heart froze.

She was gone.

Panic hit him like a freight train. He spun around, eyes darting in every direction. The bustling crowd blurred as he searched desperately for her small figure.

"Yn?" he called, his voice tight. "Yn!"

The media had already started to gather, recognizing him immediately. Microphones and cameras were shoved in his direction, questions flying at him from every angle. But he barely heard any of it.

Where is she?

---

Yn, meanwhile, had spotted something far more interesting than her daddy's shoelace. A butterfly, pale blue and delicate, fluttered past her nose. Without a second thought, she followed it, her little legs carrying her farther and farther from where Lando had left her.

When the butterfly finally landed on a flower, Yn stopped and giggled softly. She stretched out her hand, hoping it might come closer. But then, realization dawned.

Where was her daddy?

Her chest tightened as she looked around. The sea of unfamiliar faces suddenly felt overwhelming. People walked by, too busy to notice the small girl standing there, frozen in fear.

Then, the cameras came.

"Is that Lando's kid?" one voice whispered excitedly.

Yn flinched as a group of fans nearby spotted her. They approached quickly, phones out, snapping picture after picture. Some girls knelt down, their voices syrupy sweet as they tried to talk to her.

"Hi, sweetie. What's your name?" one asked.

"Is your daddy nice?" another chimed in.

"Does he bring you to the races a lot?"

Yn took a step back, her bunny hugged tight against her chest. Her lip quivered as the questions piled on, too fast, too loud.

"Please..." she whispered, her eyes stinging. She wanted her daddy.

And then, everything changed.

A warm, steady hand slipped around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into the air. Yn's heart pounded in her chest until she opened her eyes and found herself face to face with Oscar.

"Hey," he murmured softly. "Got you."

The relief was immediate. She clung to his shirt, burying her face against his shoulder.

Oscar turned to the fans, his usually calm expression tight with anger. "Don't ever do that again," he said sharply. "She's a kid, not a spectacle."

The fans shrank back, guilt flashing across their faces as he turned on his heel and walked swiftly toward the McLaren garage. Yn's heart gradually slowed, her tears drying as she felt safe again.

"You okay, munchkin?" he asked after a moment.

She nodded against his shoulder.

"Here," he said, pulling his cap off and gently settling it on her head. It was much too big, sliding down over her eyes. When she peeked up at him and giggled, Oscar smiled. "Better?"

"Better," she agreed, adjusting the hat with her little hands.

---

Back at the garage, Lando was losing his mind.

"Where is she?" he demanded, running a hand through his curls. "She was right there, Mum, I swear. I looked away for two seconds—"

"We'll find her," his dad said firmly, though concern lined his face. "Just breathe."

But Lando couldn't breathe. Not until he knew she was safe.

And then, as if the universe answered his prayers, he saw her.

Oscar emerged from the crowd, Yn still nestled securely in his arms, wearing his oversized cap. The moment Lando's eyes landed on her, his knees nearly gave out.

"Yn!" His voice broke as he rushed toward them.

"Daddy!" Yn wriggled free from Oscar's hold the moment they reached him, and Lando caught her instantly, holding her close as if he might never let go again.

"Oh, bub," he whispered, kissing the side of her head over and over. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

Yn shook her head, her small hands clutching his shirt. "I got lost, Daddy. But Ossie found me."

Lando's eyes lifted to meet Oscar's, a world of gratitude in his expression. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Oscar shrugged, though there was warmth in his smile. "Anytime, mate. You know that."

Lando held Yn even tighter, pressing his forehead to hers. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again," he promised softly.

Yn, comforted by her daddy's warmth and safety, just giggled quietly. "Okay, Daddy." And in that moment, everything felt right again.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed this story. My requests are always open for you!

-💙🦋

[justcat-judging]

₊ ⊹𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞!⊹ ₊

˚ʚY/N told them her ideal type which was the complete opposite of them. ɞ˚

˚ʚRin Itoshi x Reader, Sae Itoshi x Reader (seperate)ɞ˚

˚ʚpt.2, pt.1, pt.3ɞ˚

---

₊ ⊹ 𝐑𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 ⊹ ₊

Rin Itoshi wasn’t nosy.

He didn’t care about pointless conversations, especially when they had nothing to do with soccer.

And yet, here he was—standing just out of sight, muscles tense, pretending he wasn’t listening to your conversation.

He had only stopped by the locker room to grab his water bottle, but the second he heard your voice, he froze. He had no reason to stay, no reason to care. But then Isagi asked that question, and suddenly, walking away felt impossible.

“So, what’s your type?”

Rin didn’t know why he was waiting for your answer. It wasn’t like it mattered.

But when you hummed thoughtfully and finally replied, he regretted ever pausing to listen.

“My type?” you mused. “I think I like guys who are warm, funny, and super outgoing. Y’know, someone who can make me laugh.”

Rin’s grip on his bottle tightened.

Outgoing. Warm. Someone who makes you laugh.

That was the exact opposite of him in every possible way.

Isagi snorted. “So basically the complete opposite of Rin?”

Bachira gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Oof. Critical hit. Poor Rin-chan.”

You laughed, not even denying it, and Rin felt something sharp twist in his chest.

It shouldn’t bother him.

It shouldn’t feel like he just lost a match before it even started.

But it did.

Because, for the longest time, Rin had been harboring a quiet, inconvenient crush on you.

You were everything he wasn’t—bright, sociable, easy to like. People naturally gravitated toward you. You had a way of lighting up any room you walked into, while Rin… Rin was the type to stay in the corner, arms crossed, scowling at the world.

He knew he wasn’t the kind of person people liked. And now, hearing you say it so casually, so easily, just confirmed what he already knew.

He forced himself to walk past you, shoulders tense, pretending he didn’t hear a single word. But as he passed, you turned toward him, blinking in mild surprise.

“Rin? You okay?”

“Fine,” he muttered, not looking at you.

You tilted your head, smiling. “You should smile more, y’know. You’re kinda scary like this.”

Like this. Like always.

Rin gritted his teeth. “I don’t care.”

He walked away before he could see your expression.

Before he could let himself hope.

---

Later that night, Rin lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

It was stupid. He was being stupid.

Why did he care so much? It wasn’t like he ever thought he had a chance.

But still… the thought of you being with someone else—someone warm, someone outgoing—made something ugly coil in his stomach.

He hated it.

Because he wanted to be that person.

But he wasn’t.

And maybe he never would be.

---

A few days later…

“You really don’t think Rin’s attractive?”

Bachira’s voice was teasing, sing-songy, and Rin—who had just taken a sip of water—nearly choked.

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I said.”

Rin paused, heart pounding.

“Oh?” Bachira wiggled his brows. “So you do think he’s attractive?”

You huffed. “Of course I do. I’m not blind. He’s probably the most good-looking guy here.”

Rin froze.

Wait. What?

Isagi laughed. “Then why isn’t he your type?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like I wouldn’t date him. I just… I always imagined myself with someone different, you know?”

Rin didn’t know.

All he knew was that your words sent his heart into a freefall.

It wasn’t a no.

It wasn’t a never.

And maybe—just maybe—he still had a chance.

Before he could fully process it, you turned to him with a smirk.

“By the way, Rin…”

He blinked. “What?”

You grinned. “It was a prank.”

Rin stared. “What.”

You giggled. “The whole ‘outgoing guys are my type’ thing? I made it up.”

Rin’s brain short-circuited.

Bachira burst out laughing. “Damn, Rin-chan, you looked so pissed the other day.”

“I wasn’t pissed,” Rin muttered, scowling.

You leaned closer, eyes shining with amusement. “Were you jealous?”

“No.”

“You totally were.”

“Shut up.”

You giggled, nudging his shoulder. “Relax, dummy. I don’t actually have a type. But if I did…” You paused, tapping your chin. “It’d probably be someone serious, talented, and a little grumpy.”

Rin’s heart stopped.

Wait.

Was that—was that supposed to be him?

You winked before he could respond, walking off with a satisfied smile.

Bachira patted his shoulder. “Congrats, Rin-chan. You might actually have a chance.”

Rin didn’t respond.

He was too busy trying (and failing) to stop himself from hoping.

₊ ⊹ 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢⊹ ₊

Sae Itoshi didn’t consider himself an easily bothered person.

Annoyed? Sure. Impatient? All the time. But bothered? No.

That was, until you decided to test that theory.

The two of you were sitting together at a quiet café, his treat after he made a promise to take you out once he had a break from training. It was rare for him to have time like this, so he enjoyed the peace—until you opened your mouth.

“So,” you started, casually stirring your drink, “I figured out my type.”

Sae raised an eyebrow, sipping his coffee. “You figured it out? What, were you confused before?”

You smirked. “Not confused, just undecided.”

He rolled his eyes. “And?”

You leaned back in your seat, tapping a finger against your chin as if deep in thought. “I think I like guys who are cheerful. Y’know, warm and goofy, someone who makes me laugh all the time. A golden retriever type.”

Sae paused mid-sip.

Slowly, he lowered his cup, staring at you with an unreadable expression. “…Huh.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. He was so bad at hiding his reactions.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Nothing,” he muttered, averting his gaze. He set his cup down, a little harder than necessary. “Just sounds annoying.”

You snorted. “You think everything is annoying.”

“I have good reason to.”

You grinned. “So you’re saying you don’t fit my type?”

Sae exhaled, crossing his arms. “I don’t think anyone has ever described me as warm, goofy, or cheerful.”

“True,” you mused, taking a sip of your drink. “Guess that means I’d never date you.”

Sae went silent.

You expected him to roll his eyes or make some sarcastic remark. But instead, he just stared at you for a moment, lips pressing into a thin line. Then, without a word, he picked up his phone and started scrolling.

You blinked. “Uh… what are you doing?”

“Looking up flights back to Spain,” he deadpanned.

You burst out laughing. “Sae!”

“What?” he said, not looking up. “If I’m not your type, I clearly have no reason to be here.”

You were wheezing at this point. “Oh my God, are you pouting?”

“I don’t pout.”

“You so do,” you teased, leaning forward with a smirk. “What, did you want me to say you’re my type?”

Sae clicked his tongue, locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket. “I don’t care what you say.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t.”

“Sure, sure.”

You took another sip of your drink, watching him struggle to keep his expression neutral.

“…It was a prank, by the way,” you finally admitted, grinning. “I made that up.”

Sae’s eye twitched. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

Silence. Then—

“…What’s your actual type?” he muttered, not quite meeting your gaze.

You shrugged. “Not sure. But if I had to choose…” You leaned forward slightly, voice teasing. “I think I like serious, talented guys who pretend not to care but totally do.”

Sae’s grip tightened around his coffee cup.

“…Huh.”

You smiled. “Still booking that flight?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes—but this time, there was the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Shut up.”

(Guys which duo should I make next?)

[vampzity]

[ 12:43 am ]

“I came as soon as I could.”

Bangchan opened the door to your room out of breath, only to find you in your bed and under the covers. He tilted his head at you, hearing your small sniffles. He walked over to your bed, sitting by your body and letting the silence in the room engulf you two.

“Angel?”

You sighed, your head slightly peeking out from the blanket. You caught eyes with him, watching a small frown appear onto his face. He brought his hand to you, wiping the small amounts of tears that stained your face. You moved your face away, sitting up in front of him.

“I’m so sorry, you don’t deserve this.”

Chan wasn’t sure of what to say, more or less how to even comfort you. He’s never been through this sort of this thing, at least with a girl. He felt saddened for you, but also anger? How could someone just hurt people and feel nothing? Not even remorse.

“Maybe I did.” You looked up at him, only to be met with a face of confusion.

“There were so many things he’s spoken to me about, things that I did. That he didn’t like, Chan. Things I was constantly doing—”

Tears began to stream down your face once again. You put your head into your lap, crying silently. Chan’s heart broke from seeing you like this. Hearing you say things that weren’t even true to begin with. You’ve always put others before you, without hesitation. If you did something that bothered someone, you wouldn’t do it again. You were never the kind of person who was full of themselves and he knew that.

Did you know that?

Bangchan pulled you into a hug, playing with your hair as you sobbed into his chest. He wished that he could just punch whoever left you feeling this way. You didn’t deserve this, you never did. You pulled away from the hug, allowing him to wipe the tears that fell. He smiled at you softly, his heart skipping a beat as you made eye contact.

“None of those things he said were true.”

You looked away in disbelief. Grabbing your phone, you unlocked it and handed it over to Chan. It showed the texts between you and your now ex boyfriend. All harmful messages that he sent to you, essentially blaming you for the downfall of your relationship. Everything said with ease, like he had no issue saying it to you before.

This isn’t love. This should never be love.

He put the phone down, bringing his hand to cup your face softly. Your face slumped sadly, but welcoming his warm touch as you rested against it.

“You are such a wonderful person, angel.” He smiled softly. “Anyone would be so lucky to call you theirs.”

You blushed, feeling your face heat up. Bangchan was always good with his words, but they never failed to make you flush from embarrassment. Though something about it felt, different this time.

“You’re beautiful, in every way. Any guy—” he cleared his throat, pausing to think about his choice of words.

“I would move mountains for you. In a heartbeat, no matter the time.”

You watched as Chan’s face turned a dark red, his smile now turned shy as he pulled his hand away from your face. Your heart fluttered at his words. Was this his way of confessing how he felt to you? He looked down at his sweaty palms, sighing while he met your eyes once again.

“You’re so special to me and don’t worry, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same.” he paused, taking your hands in his.

“I know it’s so sudden, but I cant stand to see you hurt like this anymore. You deserve better, you deserve to be with someone who cherishes you.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, your once sopping face of tears becoming dry. He embraced you into his arms, resting his chin atop your head as you both sat in silence. You weren’t sure of what to do, or even what to say, but his arms felt like home. It felt warm and welcoming, it made you feel as if things would be okay.

“I know I tend to be busy,” he started, still holding you in his embrace.

“But I will always make time for you. Whenever you need me.”

You nuzzled your head into his chest, humming softly at the sweet comfort he gave you. Neither of you wanted to let go, holding onto each other as if this would be the last time. It felt nice, safe. It was something the both of you wanted to cherish.

“Will you wait for me? Until I’m ready?”

Bangchan pulled you of his arms, his hands softly cupping your cheeks as he gave you a reassuring smile. Your face was hot to the touch, enough to warm up his cold hands.

“I could wait a lifetime. All I want is you.”

a/n: just a mini drabble from december to keep you guys fed!

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @scarfac3 @jjongibears @h4untedgrl @dollywoo @rvereri @kittykat-25 @hwasddeongbyeoli @yyaurii @joonezra @honeyhwaaa @potentialgay @motherseonghwa23 @inniesfanblog @losrpark @stephanieeeyang @galaxy4489 @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub @katsukis1wife @unbel1ev4ble @sojuxxi @bbykaixx @felixleftchickennugget @gncbnahc @jwnghyuns @kjr-army @wonderz_real @xxcinnamon-toast-crunchxx @hyunmikim @bluesungology @minhosgirlposts @tahiraax1

★ comment to be added to the taglist or fill out the form here!

[elixirfromthestars]

Can I start this off by saying that as a girlie who appreciates a good playlist, I am fully enjoying reading this while listening to the accompanying playlist you created? 😌💖 And after how the prologue started us off I am seated and ready to read what happens next! 👀

More under the cut ᯓᡣ𐭩

Firstly, Liz 🥺 you have me scared now after this:

I'm going to have to prepare my tissues, my heart, my mind, and my soul for this one aren't I? 😅🥺 Well I'm ready as I'll ever be then!!

I don't know if you've answered this before, but I was curious to know what year you set/imagined this au in? 👀 I would love to get an idea of the era for the fashion and environment 🫶🏼

A grin of your own broke out, and the carriage had barely stopped before you threw the door open and practically flung yourself out and into the arms of the man before you. "Benji!" You exclaimed with a laugh, hugging your brother tightly. He reciprocated with a chuckle, resting his cheek on top of your head. "It's good to see you too, Scout."

^ Am I going to like Benji? Because something tells me I’m going to adore Scout’s brother 🥺 I think it was really nice of him to go off and move out west first to prepare everything, so things could be set up by the time Scout arrived! 🫶🏼

“Yes! Oh, Scout. You’re going to love it! It’s a grand, old thing. The furniture has already been placed, but of course you’re more than welcome to rearrange. I’ve even set aside a small plot by the side of the house for you to garden.”

^ He set up a little plot for her to garden?? 🥺❤️❤️ I officially have a soft spot for him 100% 🥺

And Natasha ending up as Benji's secretary...interesting 👀 I wonder what role she'll play in the plot 🤔✨ I hope her and Scout become friends, so Scout can have someone to talk to while she adjusts to this new life. 💖

“The Daggers are nothing to be concerned about,” he started, stopping when you shot him a skeptical look. Sighing, he continued, “They don’t usually cause trouble for those in town. Maverick has a sort of…truce with them.”

^ A truce? 👀 Sounds to me like Maverick has to keep all his children in check 😂

“I really am glad you’re here, Scout,” he said softly. Turning to meet your brother’s gaze, you saw the familiar fondness in them that you had missed the past six months. Benjamin was eight years your senior, and had declared himself as your protector from the second you were born. He had been one of the many constants in your life, and now he seemed to be the only one left.

^ 🥺🥺🥺 that's all just 🥺🥺🥺

“Without an escort?” You spluttered, eyes widening in shock. Benjamin let out a hearty laugh, his head falling back as his shoulders shook. “Welcome to the west, baby sister.”

^ Something tells me this won't be the first 'cultural shock' Scout experiences 😂 Although, after mentions of the outlaws, rowdy folk, and men stumbling out of taverns...I think I too would be a little shocked of not having an escort. 😳

And my first impression of the small town of Maverick is that its a nice little town with possibilities of trouble around the corner 👀

“Perhaps you’ll be my friend,” you mused. The horse lets out a snort and you laugh out a breath, smiling softly. Your father had loved horses, and he had made sure to pass on that love to his children. Many happy memories were made riding along the countryside of your family’s country home.

^ I don't know who this horse is, but I love him. 🥹 I hope Scout befriends him and gets to bring him treats later ❤️ Because it sounds to me like he deserves all the treats!!

“Well, darlin’. There must be something special about you, huh?” Came a male voice from behind you. You whipped around just as a sturdy body leans against the post. He was unbelievably handsome. Gold hair complimented golden skin, and green eyes held twinkles of mirth and mischief with a smirk to match.

^ 🤭🤭 Is this who I think it is?? 🤭🤭 I swear I can hear the accent clear as day when he says darlin' 💗💗

“Whiskey here doesn’t warm up to just anyone,” he grinned, resting a hand next to yours. “In fact, he doesn’t like much of anyone accept me.”

^ It's official. Whiskey the horse, a good judge of character, and the matchmaker. I love him. 🐴💘

“Figured,” he chuckled. “I would have remembered seeing someone as pretty as you walkin’ around.”

^ Keep talking, I'm listening 🥰❤️

“So, sugar,” he started, “how much for your debut?”

^ Never mind, please stop talking because—WHAT 😦

Chuckling, he continued. “How much is it going to cost me to have you in my bed for the hour?”

^ EXCUSE ME DO I LOOK LIKE A HARLOT TO YOU?! Actually, don't answer that because apparently I do 💀

“C’mon, honey. It’ll be worth your while,” he smirked, running his eyes up and down your form. “Promise it’ll be good for you too. Hell, I’ll even pay for the night.”

^ *clutches pearls tightly* Jake, please stop I'm begging you, you're making it worse for yourself. 😭💀

“I’m not a whore!” You shouted, drawing looks from passersby. The man held up his hands in surrender. In any other situation it would have been almost comical how frightened he seemed of you considering how he towered over you. “My sincerest apologies, miss,” he offered, trying to hold back a grin.

^ In all seriousness, this is actually such a funny and fitting way for these two to meet and the fact that he's being a little shit and trying not to smile, its such a Jake thing to do. 😂🩷What a set up for them, I love it!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

“Nonsense,” Jake chirped, “what kind of gentleman would I be if I allowed a beautiful young lady to walk around unescorted through town?” You gave him a dubious look which only caused the smirk on his face to grow into a full blown grin.

^ Sir, you just said we looked like a whore I mean, I don't know if an escort through town is how you make it up to someone after that buddy. 😂💀

“You come here to join your fiancé?” He asked, tone even and face still unreadable. Surely he wasn’t... “Are you jealous, Mr. Seresin?” Jake looked at you then, jaw set and green eyes ablaze. “Answer the question, darlin’.” You shook your head. “No. I’m not even engaged. Benjamin is my brother.” He seemed to relax at that.

^ Jealous already, Jake? 🤭💖 I’m still a little weary after that little misunderstanding 🤨 but I’ll let it slide for now 😌

“Because I don’t believe our paths will cross again, Jake,” you said, lips curling in a small smile.

^ Oh, I have a feeling they will. 🤭🩷 Many times. I have a feeling Jake would carve out his own path just to cross it with Scout's if need be. 🙂‍↕️💗

“How can we be of service, Hangman?” he asked tensely, and you looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Hangman? But that was the name of… Your head whipped back around to look at Jake who just grinned at your brother before shooting you a wink. “Just escorting your sister back to your door, Benjamin. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, would we?” He grinned, not taking his eyes off of you. Benjamin stiffened beside you.

^ Benjamin and Jake have crossed paths already?? 👀 I wonder how that went 🫢 because it seems Benjamin is very cautious of Jake.

Oh my, oh my, oh my, what a beginning this was!! Arriving to Maverick, getting a bit more of a feel for Scout and Benji’s sibling dynamic, meeting Whiskey, meeting Jake, and then that tense interaction between Jake and Benji in the end 🫢💕 Maybe I should be weary of outlaw Jake, but I fear he might’ve captured my attention already!! 🫶🏼 Deep down I want to trust Whiskey’s judgement that Jake’s a good guy, but I guess I’ll have to keep reading to see!! 👀💖

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter One

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Language, reader being a tad bougie, flirty Jake, ogling men, use of y/n...I think that's it for this one?

Word Count: 2.95k

A/N: Here it is! Chapter One! I hope you all enjoy reading this! As always, likes and reblogs are very much welcome as I crave validation. And again, this blog is 18+!! You are responsible for your own reading! You can also find this story on AO3 written under arcane_vagabond!

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist

People bustled about the small town as your carriage passed by. Children ran ahead of their parents, men stumbled out of what could only be the local tavern, and women dressed entirely too scantily waved at anyone who passed by.

Frowning, you sat back in your seat, once again contemplating how you ended up in this situation. Peering out the window, you looked up to see a tall, wooden building painted in a fresh coat of white paint. Blue shutters hugged the windows along the walls, and a wooden sign with your family’s name hung just past the set of stairs. Most importantly, a tall man stood at the base of the steps, grinning from ear to ear.

A grin of your own broke out, and the carriage had barely stopped before you threw the door open and practically flung yourself out and into the arms of the man before you.

“Benji!” You exclaimed with a laugh, hugging your brother tightly. He reciprocated with a chuckle, resting his cheek on top of your head.

“It’s good to see you too, Scout.”

It had been months since you had seen your brother. Benjamin had insisted on moving out west before you in order to get things settled, and you were to stay home and oversee that your family’s heirlooms were shipped safely to your new home. That had been six months ago, and now here he stood before you, still clean shaven, but he had definitely developed a darker complexion during his time in the town of Maverick. Pursing your lips, you look up at him.

“Benjamin, how much time have you spent in the sun these past months?” You scolded. He had the decency to appear ashamed as he ducked his head down, offering you a sheepish smile.

“Longer than you would approve of, I’m sure y/n. But, the house needed seeing to and land was not going to till itself,” he smirked, taking your arm in his and walking up the steps of the building.

“The house?” You inquired with a raise of your eyebrow. Benjamin nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Oh, Scout. You’re going to love it! It’s a grand, old thing. The furniture has already been placed, but of course you’re more than welcome to rearrange. I’ve even set aside a small plot by the side of the house for you to garden.”

“You have?” You asked as you walked into the building. A parlor of sorts greeted you with newly made furniture and various pieces of artwork hanging on the walls. A door opened up into the hallway that held, what you assumed, the offices for the firm.

“Oh, Benji,” you breathed, placing a hand over your heart. “Daddy would be so proud of this place.”

Benjamin’s chest puffed up in pride as he led you down the hall and into his office. You passed a woman who came out of the office closest to the door. She was beautiful with her dark hair pulled back and her blue dress perfectly complimenting her complexion. She offered you a smile and then looked expectantly at your brother.

“Benjamin,” she began, “aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“Of course,” chuckled Benjamin. “Y/n, this is Natasha. Natasha, this is my younger sister, y/n.”

“Please, call me Phoenix,” she said, offering you a hand. You took it and gave it a firm shake. “A pleasure, Phoenix.”

“Your brother has been so excited to see you. All he ever does is talk about you! I feel like I’ve already known you for years,” she teased, causing him to look embarrassed. You chuckled and dropped your hand back to your side.

“I know the feeling. He’s gone on and on about the ‘remarkable, young woman who I’ve had the great pleasure of taking on as my new secretary.’”

“Must you two tease me so?” Benjamin groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“I have work I need to return to anyway,” laughed Phoenix, already turning to head back to the entrance. “Don’t be a stranger now, y/n.”

“She seems nice,” you said to your brother once Phoenix had rounded the corner. Putting a hand on your back, Benjamin guided you into his office, taking the chair opposite you as you both sat down.

“She certainly keeps things interesting around here,” he laughed. You scoffed, thinking back to your earlier conversation with your driver.

“As if things need to be more interesting around here,” you muttered. Benjamin gave you a perplexed look, and you sighed.

“I know all about that…Dagger Gang, Benji. Outlaws running about? Honestly, I don’t know how I let you talk me into coming here.”

“The Daggers are nothing to be concerned about,” he started, stopping when you shot him a skeptical look. Sighing, he continued, “They don’t usually cause trouble for those in town. Maverick has a sort of…truce with them.”

“Usually?” You questioned, still not convinced.

“There have been the odd occasions,” he stated slowly, seeming to pick his words carefully. “Usually when the odd person in town picks a fight or one of them gets too rowdy at the tavern. It’s nothing to concern yourself with, Scout. Really.”

“If you say so,” you relented, dropping the subject and looking out the window. Benjamin sighed in relief, and the pair of you sat in silence for a moment.

“I really am glad you’re here, Scout,” he said softly. Turning to meet your brother’s gaze, you saw the familiar fondness in them that you had missed the past six months. Benjamin was eight years your senior, and had declared himself as your protector from the second you were born. He had been one of the many constants in your life, and now he seemed to be the only one left.

Sighing, you replied, “You’ll have a lot more convincing to do in order to make me decided that this was a good idea.”

Benjamin cracked a smile, and placed his feet on his desk, leaning further back in his chair.

“I’m willing to do that,” he grinned.

“Get your feet off the desk, Benji,” you scowled. “We’re still civilized even if we’re living in the middle of nowhere.”

Ignoring you, Benjamin reached down to open a drawer, pulling out a packet of paper. Dropping the large stack onto the desk with a loud bang, he looked back up at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“I’d love nothing more than for you to keep me company, Scout, but I still have paperwork I need to do before I’m finished for the day. If you’d like, you can sit here while I get it done, or you can get acquainted with the town you’ll be calling home.”

“Without an escort?” You spluttered, eyes widening in shock. Benjamin let out a hearty laugh, his head falling back as his shoulders shook.

“Welcome to the west, baby sister.”

You walked slowly down the dirt road that ran through the center of the bustling town. Each building was painted a different, bright color which made it easier to distinguish which business was which. A group of young boys suddenly ran in front of you, nearly knocking you to the ground. Stumbling back a few steps, you managed to regain your footing as the boys shouted an apology back at you from over their shoulders. Looking after them with a bemused look on your face, you felt a chill run up your spine as you hear a low chuckle from the porch of one of the buildings. Glancing up, you saw two older men leering at you. Both missing several teeth and covered in layers of dirt, you suppressed a shudder as one of them gives you a gummy grin. Smiling politely, you quickly made your way down the road.

The sun had started to set, and a chill settled in the air. A stark contrast from the heat of that morning. Slowing to a stop, you watched as several men went around lighting the lanterns outside of their businesses and along the streets. At least some things were reminiscent of home.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the large figure walk up behind you. You jumped when said large figure bumps into your back. You spun around to come face to face with a beautiful, buckskin stallion. Placing a hand on your chest and letting out a sigh of relief, you gave a halfhearted glare to the horse before you.

“You scared me,” you griped, earning an ear flick from the stallion. Turning to face the creature fully, you placed your hand gently on its snout, stroking lightly.

“My, aren’t you a pretty thing?” You cooed. The horse swung his head up and down as if nodding in agreement. You giggled, moving your hand to stroke his neck as he nuzzled into your hand.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything for you,” you laughed, earning another ear flick. You wondered how long he had been left out here. The reins attached to his bridle were tied around a post along with three other horses who paid you no mind. Humming, you look into his eyes.

“You know,” you began thoughtfully, “it wasn’t even my idea to move here. I left all of my friends back in Baltimore. I would go to parties in the evening and go for a stroll in the park the next day. There’s none of that here, I’m sure. What even is there to do?”

The horse moved closer, pushing his head into your arms.

“Perhaps you’ll be my friend,” you mused. The horse lets out a snort and you laugh out a breath, smiling softly. Your father had loved horses, and he had made sure to pass on that love to his children. Many happy memories were made riding along the countryside of your family’s country home.

“You’re right,” you relented, “I doubt I’ll be seeing much of you after tonight.”

You continued to stroke the horse’s neck, murmuring soft praises as the large beast seemed to bask in the attention.

“Well, darlin’. There must be something special about you, huh?” Came a male voice from behind you. You whipped around just as a sturdy body leans against the post. He was unbelievably handsome. Gold hair complimented golden skin, and green eyes held twinkles of mirth and mischief with a smirk to match. He wore a simple, white cotton shirt with a brown vest and wool pants. His boots and the blue bandana tied around his neck looked a little worse for wear. You blink as you realize that you’ve been staring for longer than would be deemed appropriate.

“I’m sorry?” You questioned, still caught in a daze at the beautiful man before you. You didn’t even think men like him existed in this part of the world. The man gestured to the horse you were still cuddled up by.

“Whiskey here doesn’t warm up to just anyone,” he grinned, resting a hand next to yours. “In fact, he doesn’t like much of anyone accept me.”

You didn’t answer, not sure how to respond. Instead, you turned your attention back to Whiskey who was attempting to nibble at the strands of hair that had fallen out of your updo. Giggling lightly, you pushed the horse away and take a half step back.

The man took a half step closer to you, the grin having given way to a salacious smirk. “I haven’t seen you ‘round these parts before. You new in town?”

“Yes,” you answered politely. “I just arrived here.”

“Figured,” he chuckled. “I would have remembered seeing someone as pretty as you walkin’ around.”

You blushed, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. This seemed to embolden the stranger.

“So, sugar,” he started, “how much for your debut?”

You looked at him with eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Chuckling, he continued. “How much is it going to cost me to have you in my bed for the hour?”

Surely you had misheard him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“C’mon, honey. It’ll be worth your while,” he smirked, running his eyes up and down your form. “Promise it’ll be good for you too. Hell, I’ll even pay for the night.”

You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and in a most completely undignified manner, you began to splutter, trying to maintain your sense of calm while feeling a red hot wave of rage overtake you.

“How dare you!” You shrieked. You saw the smirk on the stranger’s face falter. Good.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?”

“The matter,” you seethed, “is that you have just assumed that I am some woman of ill repute, sir.”

He paused, studying you. “Well, I just figured since you were dressed up so pretty, it must have been to draw in customers.”

“I’m not a whore!” You shouted, drawing looks from passersby. The man held up his hands in surrender. In any other situation it would have been almost comical how frightened he seemed of you considering how he towered over you.

“My sincerest apologies, miss,” he offered, trying to hold back a grin. You turned to walk back towards your brother’s firm with a scowl. Stopping, you peered over your shoulder, fixing the stranger with another glare.

“I would advise you, Mr…?”

“Seresin. Jake Seresin.”

“Mr. Seresin,” you breathed. “I would advise you to not make such horrible assumptions next time you come across a woman you don’t know.”

You didn’t wait for his response as you continued walking. You hadn’t made it ten steps before a shadow blocks the last remaining rays of the sun from your field of view.

“What are you doing, Mr. Seresin?”

“Call me Jake,” he smirked. You frowned up at him, stopping in your tracks to face him.

“I most certainly will not,” you huffed. “Now answer my question.”

Jake stared at you for what felt like entirely too long, and you started to fidget under his gaze.

“Well, since I accidentally insulted you,” he cocked his head at your glare, “I figured the least I could do is walk you to wherever it is you’re going.”

“While I appreciate the gesture,” you said with gritted teeth and a polite smile, “that is entirely unnecessary.”

“Nonsense,” Jake chirped, “what kind of gentleman would I be if I allowed a beautiful young lady to walk around unescorted through town?”

You gave him a dubious look which only caused the smirk on his face to grow into a full blown grin. Huffing once more, you turned back towards the path and began walking. Jake slid up to your side smoothly and offered you his arm. You scoffed at him, and he raised his eyebrows. Scowling, you took his arm and tried your damndest to ignore the obnoxious grin on your companion’s face. It took you only minutes to arrive back at the firm, and you turned to face Jake who glanced from the firm back to you.

“The lawyer?” he questioned, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Yes,” you stated simply, stepping away from him to put some distance between the two of you. Jake crossed his arms and stared up at the building.

“You come here to join your fiancé?” He asked, tone even and face still unreadable.

Surely he wasn’t... “Are you jealous, Mr. Seresin?”

Jake looked at you then, jaw set and green eyes ablaze. “Answer the question, darlin’.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m not even engaged. Benjamin is my brother.”

He seemed to relax at that. He gave you another look that you couldn’t quite place before shifting back to his now familiar smirk.

“I don’t think I got the pleasure of your name, sugar.”

“I highly doubt you’ll need it,” you stated simply. He raised an eyebrow.

“And why is that?”

“Because I don’t believe our paths will cross again, Jake,” you said, lips curling in a small smile.

“Ah, that’s no fair, darlin’. All I want to know is your name,” he grinned, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath fan across your face. Your own breath catches as you locked eyes with him.

“Just my name?” You whispered. He nods.

“Just your name.”

At that moment, your brother and Phoenix chose to walk out the door, stopping in their tracks at the sight before them.

“Scout?” Benjamin said hesitantly at the same time Phoenix said your name. Jake’s eyes shifted to the pair, and that smirk settled on his face once more. His eyes flickered back to you as he leaned away and you found that you were able to breathe normally once again.

“Y/n, huh?” he chuckled. Then he cocked his head and gave you a mirthful look. “Or is it Scout?”

“It’s neither to you,” you scowled, causing him to let out another laugh.

Benjamin walked quickly down the steps and down to your side where he leveled Jake with a stare.

“How can we be of service, Hangman?” he asked tensely, and you looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Hangman? But that was the name of…

Your head whipped back around to look at Jake who just grinned at your brother before shooting you a wink.

“Just escorting your sister back to your door, Benjamin. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, would we?” He grinned, not taking his eyes off of you. Benjamin stiffened beside you.

“Yes, well,” he began, “thank you, Hangman. It’s greatly appreciated.”

“Anytime,” replied Jake, already turning to walk back. He gave you another wink. “I’ll be seeing you around then, Scout.”

And with that, he turned on his heels and walked away. The three of you watched him walk away in silence. What on earth had just happened?

[hotchnersangel]

Hi Hi! So i saw few of your Aaron fics were based off of songs and Ive wanted an I can see you by taylor swift fic for him for so long.

Specifically the, “I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note, saying meet me tonight.”

ITS JUST SO HOTCH CODEDD

okayyy thanks queen😋

I CAN SEE YOU

Aaron Hotchner

A/n: omg this is my first request so im screaming and kicking my feet right now, i hope i do you justice my love!!!!!!!!! ps, I LOVE TAYLOR AND THIS WAS MY SURPRISE SONG!

cw: implications of sex, dadbod!hotch, pining, kinda objectifying hotch but goddamn hes so hot, bau!reader probably some more but i cant think xxx

Finding your person was never as easy as it came across, in fact, you had a chronic fear that maybe that day would never come. The overriding question of if someone would ever be able to see you so deeply, so intimately and trace your being so intricately with nothing but the kiss of their heart. That was until Aaron Hotchner stood under a strobe light and shon a lifeline when you were in complete darkness, consumed by the ache of your despair.

The relationship between the two of you was… well, flummox. Especially recently; Aaron had become more comfortable around you and it was visible to a watchful eye if you studied every intricacy and atom of his being, which you did. Though, he never let his poker face fall in-front of the rest of the BAU. He was incredibly skilled at the art of deception, which made his yearning of desire towards you that much easier to conceal.

The feeling of his shoulder brushing past yours in the hallway sends one thousand hot electric bolts through your body causing a full body reaction to his touch. Your cheeks mirror a gentle shade of rose as you duck your head down, suddenly finding appeal in the stone flooring. Despite what feel’s like your obvious flirting, Aaron isn’t sure if his feelings were reciprocated. There was certainly a tension between the two of you, but of what nature led you to disclose such information. Was it simply lust, was it… friendship? Was it loneliness? Or simply, was it love?

The feeling that you get when he is near you sends goosebumps down your spine. The way your smile brightens just wide enough for it to not hurt when you smile when he is near, or when he cracks a joke which was awfully rare nowadays, though when it happens you feel a warm and fuzzy sensation inside your belly. He makes you feel a sort of creeping sensation… like something is crawling across your chest, maybe a feeling of a fly or nat, but no- realisation kicks in and you are simply faced with the love-bug.

He similarly feels an alike reception of feelings towards you, though verbally he fears he cannot communicate them with you in fear of getting a reply. He tried for so long to deny his feelings, deny deny deny that you even existed in a romantic sense- but everything he ever did led back to you. No matter how many times he ‘picked up’ a girl in a bar, how many times he was goggled by women around him, no matter how many times he found different ways to infiltrate you out of his mind, it would always run back to you.

You are currently sat at your desk, gazing at Aaron Hotchner as he is sat on his desk, filling out paperwork. The way his eyes skim the page so tentatively makes you wonder what they would feel like when they landed on you for a long duration of time… maybe in a scenario where you were alone in the tension between you- with nothing left to yearn upon apart from the worshipping of one anothers bodies. What would he do, if you went to touch him now? God, it’s all you could think about. The feeling of running your hands across his broad chest and big big arms. Those huge, delicious arms.

You can imagine the way his hands could hold you trapped to the wall while his body boxes you in until you have no option but to submit to him. Your eyes catch his as his gaze wanders away from his case files and back onto you. The feeling of drunken giddy fills both of your stomachs as you narrow your eyes daringly at him, a small smirk lifting the left side of his face. His eyebrow perches upwards as he inspects you, like he was reading every invasive thought going through your head and in return… he retaliates with similar thoughts. The way he could caress your body and how the small gesture could make him want you even more, which he never deemed as possible.

He wished you knew how you made him feel, how your cheeks may flush a little more deeper at the confession that he could see you. Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you smile, what each micro-expression of your face meant, what your movements implied about your mood, what you need in each and every moment. He saw everything. He saw you.

You see him walk out of his office, his very large and veiny hand holding a stack of files that would take you two to carry. He walks down each step like he was entitled to the world, like the sight of him in his suit and his necktie wasn’t driving you insane.

You couldn’t help but goggle at the sight of him. He always looked… beautiful but today, well today he looked scrumptious. Like he was sculpted by the greek gods and dressed in robes fit for roman emperors- with a little more coverage, unfortunately. The way his black suit hugged his bulky arms and larger waist made your mouth water. The quick glance over his neck tie was enough to send your mind spiralling into where else that could be used. Tying your hands together maybe? Please.

He walks up to your desk, stopping besides you, arguably closer than he should have. His knee was brushed against yours as you looked up at him through your lashes, your innocent eyes hiding the most hideously devilish thoughts of what you want to do to the man in-front of you.

“Your caseload.” He puts simply, placing the folder down in-front of you. Can he hear the way your heart is racing in your chest? Because you start to contemplate if you’re going through a severe heart condition like AF with this irregular pattern.

“Thanks.” You smile up at him, which he catches and nods in return.

“Oh,” he pauses as he turns to walk away, looking back in your direction and moving his hand on top of yours, the touch unraveling a relentless fire spreading wildly through your body- guiding your hand towards the file.

“Have a thorough read on page 3, there is some serious information.” He singles into you eyes, making the world around you spin. You nod, losing your words as you watch his lean figure clamber up the steps and return to his office.

You open the file, starting on page three- your eyes greeted by a small note written in his cursive hatching. ‘Meet me tonight.’

You stomach flips and suddenly, the rest of the day seems to fall into an extremely long and painful blur, over and over, constant reminders that you had to wait, had to restrain yourself to not climb onto hid body like a child in a wild play. Instead, you stayed composed for the rest of the day until the inevitable time occured and suddenly you wished it was a few hours ago, again.

You swallowed your nerves and followed him subtly out of the building, until he opened his car door allowing you to take a seat before heading to the drivers side. When he does, he looks over to you intently and smirks.

“You can follow my orders?” He speaks with a decided tone of smugness.

“When you have orders I agree with, yeah.” You shoot back, looking at him through your naturally glassy eyes. Your lips softly plumped with the lipstick combination defining them. Which, drove Aaron crazy. The urge to smother his body with your lipstick felt overwhelming but he simply just sat and stared.

“Fuck, I can’t do this any longer.” He sighs and looks at you intensely, his eyes singling onto you with intent.

“Do me instead.” You shrug casually and he lets out a strong sigh, moving forwards until his forehead rests against yours. A deep, breathy sigh escaping from his lips as his hand moves to cup your cheeks.

“Say the word and I will step back and let you out of the car.”

“You clearly aren’t very good at your job if you think that I don’t want this, Mr Unit Chief.” You tease him with a playful grin.

He tilts his head at you, hitting an angle that excites you deeply. The sight before you simply knocking you off your feet. Taking your breath away. All the clichè’s.

“I know you want this,” he repeats and finally attaches his lips to yours. Your body moving into a panicked state, flushed with excitement, nervousness, anticipation and lust. A soft shudder attacking your nervous system sending your body into overdrive, making you wonder if this is a dream or not. But, as you feel Aaron pull away, your lip between his teeth.

He looks at you and says, “I can see you, baby.”

And suddenly, the world around you stopped and the silence carried the passion between you and Aaron Hotchner.

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

ben, masky, toby, jeff & brian with an s/o thats kinda like nina? like obsessed with them, would do anything to impress them & is kinda a bimbo?

Like sorry this one took me a hot minute, school has been kicking my ass 😔

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Creepypasta boys x obsessive reader ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, BEN drowned, X Virus, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoodie

Jeff

☠︎︎ ︎he would be so pissed oml

☠︎︎ he already had to deal with Nina and now there’s TWO crazy bitches obsessed with him

☠︎︎like damn he knows he’s the shit but still

☠︎︎ straight up calls you annoying and says he doesn’t want you around

☠︎︎he prefers to chase, not to be chased so he wouldn’t really be into you

☠︎︎would perhaps keep you around as a fuck buddy :/

Toby

✘ his first impression is that you’re a weirdo

✘ of all the people you could be obsessed with

✘ crazy hatchet man really? It’s laughable

✘ he may use it to take advantage of you at first

✘ just does shit to fuck with you

✘ simply testing your limits, seeing how far you will go

✘ if you endure all of that then he’s impressed

✘ in turn, he’s now obsessed with you

✘especially if you’re a bimbo (Toby likes pretty girls)

Eyeless Jack

𖤐 he’s a bit surprised that you’re into him

𖤐 like the kidney eating didn’t throw you off?

𖤐 really admires the dedication

𖤐 doesn’t want you to do too much for him though

𖤐 because he doesn’t deserve it

𖤐 would reciprocate your feelings

𖤐 constantly tells you how much you mean to him

BEN drowned

⚠︎ sigh

⚠︎ stop giving this man ammo

⚠︎ finds you to be a bit annoying at first

⚠︎ like you can’t be obsessed with him, you haven’t even seen how horrible he is yet

⚠︎ and yet he puts you through hell and back and… you’re still here?

⚠︎ if you’re still obsessed with him after all that, he feels a strong connection to you

⚠︎ you know he’s incredibly manipulative and sadistic and yet you still love him? If he had a heart this would bring a tear to his eye

⚠︎ would still do things to fuck with you from time to time

⚠︎ gotta keep the romance alive

X Virus

☣︎ his opinion of you really depends on how annoying you are about it

☣︎ like, trying to distract him all the time and wanting his attention while he’s working?

☣︎ blocked and reported to law enforcement

☣︎ but if you’re like super interested in his work

☣︎ loves to have you around to yap at

☣︎ sit in his lap and let him talk about his nerd shit while he puts his hands all over you

☣︎ you don’t understand any of it anyways but you’re trying your best

☣︎ he’s HOOKED

☣︎ Loves having you in the lab just sitting pretty

Tim/Masky

꩜ Tim is generally a rational person so he’s thrown off by your obsession

꩜To the point where, he’s very suspicious of you at first

꩜because you have got to be off the walls kookoo bonkers

꩜the longer you stick around though, he’s bound to warm up to you

꩜he also doesn’t mind the eye candy

☆ Masky is amused by how pathetic you are

☆likes you as long as you don’t get in his way

☆honestly loves how air headed you are

☆pulls you close and smiles behind the mask, “there ain’t a single thing going on in that pretty little head of yours”

Brian/Hoodie

𖣐 Brian lowkey treats you like a little puppy

𖣐 doesn’t mind having someone follow him around and cling to him

𖣐 spurs on the obsessive tendencies

𖣐 he can’t fix you but he can sure as hell make you worse

𖣐 “babe that girl totally just looked at me you should go kill her”

☹ Hoodie loves loves loves it

☹ he thinks you’re super twisted but he finds that super hot

☹ loves that you will do anything he says

☹ calls you good girl all the time

Hope you enjoyed :3

[premiumbitch]

۶ৎ LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!: MARILYN MONROE MANIFESTATION & SCRIPTING PACK ˙⋆.˚

I KNOW I already made a Marilyn Monroe one, but I had someone requested I make one with the structure of my old theme, so enjoy this second Marilyn Monroe scripting/manifestation pack <3

♯┆BEAUTY.ᐟ

Your beauty is a whispered sonnet, a flickering candle in a dimly lit dressing room—soft, radiant, and intoxicating, like a secret only the stars know.

Your platinum waves are spun from moonlight, cascading in soft, velvety curls that frame your face like the delicate petals of a blooming gardenia.

Your skin is silk kissed by the glow of old Hollywood spotlights—luminous, porcelain, untouched by time, as if the heavens themselves sculpted you from light.

Your eyes hold the secrets of a thousand love stories—deep pools of mystery, glimmering with a softness that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

Your lips are poetry in motion, painted in the deepest shade of red—soft, full, beckoning, like the last lingering note of a love song.

Your lashes are long and delicate, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly caught in a golden hour breeze, each blink an unspoken promise.

Your cheekbones are kissed by the gods, sculpted yet tender, catching the light in just the right way, as if you were made to be adored.

Your scent lingers in the air long after you’ve left—warm vanilla, crushed roses, and a touch of something forbidden, like a whispered “stay” in the dark.

Your silhouette is the definition of femininity—curves that dance with every movement, a body carved by love and poetry, soft yet powerful.

Your hands move like a dream—delicate, slow, enchanting, whether lighting a cigarette, adjusting the strap of your silk slip, or blowing a kiss to the night.

Your voice is a lullaby wrapped in honey, breathy yet commanding, a whisper that carries the weight of a thousand untold desires.

Your presence is magnetic, as if you were made for the silver screen, a dream dipped in champagne, a vision that lingers long after the credits roll.

Your beauty isn’t just skin deep—it seeps into the way you move, the way you love, the way the world seems softer, warmer, more golden when you’re around.

♯┆AURA .ᐟ

Your aura is a candlelit secret, a love letter written in crimson ink, a fleeting moment of magic that lingers like the taste of strawberries and champagne.

You move through the world like a dream wrapped in silk, exuding an effortless grace that makes time slow, as if the universe itself wants to watch you a little longer.

Your presence is warm, inviting, yet untouchable, like a shooting star that dances across the midnight sky—brilliant, breathtaking, but never meant to be caught.

People are drawn to you, not just because of your beauty, but because of the way you make them feel—special, adored, as if they too belong in a love story.

You exist in a state of gentle contradiction—soft yet strong, delicate yet untamed, an angel with a devil’s smile, a siren wrapped in silk and stardust.

You are the embodiment of old Hollywood glamour, not just in appearance, but in spirit—a woman who knows the power of mystery, allure, and a perfectly timed glance.

Your laughter is like a champagne toast—effervescent, intoxicating, the kind of sound that makes people want to live a little more, love a little harder.

You make the world feel cinematic, as if every streetlight is a spotlight, every sidewalk a red carpet, every stolen moment something worth remembering.

There’s an innocence to you, yet a knowing—like a starlet who has seen the world, felt its weight, yet still chooses to believe in love, in dreams, in magic.

You are the soft flicker of candlelight in a grand ballroom, the hush of velvet curtains just before the show begins, the final note of a song that leaves people breathless.

You do not beg for attention—it follows you, like a shadow, like a love-struck admirer who cannot look away.

You leave a mark on people’s souls, not just their memories, like red lipstick on a white collar—a presence that refuses to be forgotten.

♯┆SMARTS .ᐟ

Your intelligence is quiet but undeniable, a knowing glimmer in your eyes, a soft smile that says you understand the game better than anyone.

You navigate the world with the charm of a siren and the wit of a queen, understanding that true power lies in grace, mystery, and knowing when to let them wonder.

You are a strategist wrapped in satin, a thinker disguised as a muse, a woman who can shatter illusions with nothing but a perfectly timed pause.

You see people as they are, not as they pretend to be, reading them like a well-loved script, knowing their lines before they even speak them.

Your mind is a work of art—quick, adaptable, endlessly creative, the kind that can turn dreams into reality and heartbreak into poetry.

You are a lover of beauty, of art, of words, but you also know their weight, their power, how they can shape worlds and shatter hearts.

You understand that silence is sometimes louder than words, that a glance can be more powerful than a speech, that a touch can change the course of a story.

You are not just a dreamer—you are a doer, a believer, a creator of your own destiny, never waiting for permission to become legendary.

You know how to make life look effortless, how to make success feel natural, how to turn even the most difficult moments into something beautiful.

You balance softness and strength with the ease of a woman who knows she was made for more, who refuses to settle for anything less than magic.

You are proof that femininity is not weakness, that love is not foolish, that kindness is not naivety—because you, above all, understand that power comes in many forms.

You think like a star, dream like a poet, and move like a woman who knows the world is hers for the taking.

♯┆PERSONALITY .ᐟ

You have the kind of presence that makes the world stop for just a moment, as if even time itself wants to watch you a little longer.

Your laugh is golden, the kind that makes people feel lighter, like the air itself has been laced with something sweet and intoxicating.

You love like a classic romance—wholeheartedly, passionately, with a touch of tragedy, as if every kiss is a scene from a film that will never be forgotten.

You are kind in a way that feels rare, genuine, the kind of kindness that makes people believe in goodness again.

You are playful, flirtatious, a walking contradiction of innocence and knowing, a woman who understands her power but wields it with grace.

You carry yourself like a dream wrapped in silk, your presence both comforting and thrilling, as if being near you is like living inside a love song.

You are the kind of person people write about, the kind of soul that lingers in poetry, in film, in memories that refuse to fade.

You make everything feel like an adventure, whether it’s dancing barefoot in the kitchen or whispering secrets under city lights.

You embrace the art of living, knowing that beauty is in the details, in the way you smile, the way you move, the way you turn an ordinary moment into something cinematic.

You are the embodiment of romance—not just in love, but in life itself, in the way you see the world, the way you make others feel.

You are timeless, ethereal, an enigma wrapped in pearls and perfume, forever leaving behind a whisper of something magical.

You don’t just exist—you glow, like the last flicker of a candle, like a star that refuses to fade, like a name that will never be forgotten.

[jisungiesvzz]

Hii I absolutely loves ur fanfic!! Would u mind doing a jeongin version on unexpected?

I'm sorry this took so long to write! I’ve been having heavy workloads from school and I've also had writers block ugh. Anyways, I hope you enjoy :).

Crossing Lines

Idol!Jeongin x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing lessons, making out, neck kissing

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: please let me know if I missed warnings, otherwise enjoy :)

Versions: Hyunjin // Han // Jeongin

—

The afternoon sun streams through Jeongin's apartment windows, casting golden hues across the living room. You sit cross-legged on the floor, a small velvet pouch between your fingers as you rummage through its contents.

"I still can't believe I forgot my jewelry," you sigh, carefully examining a silver chain with a small fox pendant. "You sure you don't mind me borrowing yours?"

Jeongin smiles from his position on the couch, phone in hand as he scrolls through his social media feed, hoping to run across a good hang out spot near you. "What's mine is yours, y/n. Three years of friendship earns you jewelry-borrowing privileges."

Giving him a soft smile, you hold up one of his earrings to the light, a simple silver hoop that catches the sunbeam and sparkles.

"It's scary how well you know me," you laugh, sorting through more pieces. "Like, you knew I'd forget something tonight."

"That's why I always keep extra stuff around for you," he replies, setting his phone down. "I am fully prepared for Hurricane Y/N."

You playfully throw a small cushion at him, which he catches effortlessly. You can't imagine your life without these little moments—the casual hang outs in his apartment, the inside jokes, the way he always seems to understand exactly what you need.

"Hey, remember that truth or dare game at Chan's party last week?" Jeongin suddenly asks, a tint of curiosity in his voice.

You groan, instantly knowing where this was heading. "Please, not this again."

"I'm just saying," he continues, sitting up straighter, "I was surprised when you said you've never been kissed. I mean, you're twenty-two!"

You feel your cheeks warm, lowering your voice to a near mumble. "So? Some people are late bloomers..."

"It's not a bad thing," Jeongin says quickly. "I just... I don't know, I just assumed you had."

You shrug, suddenly finding the jewelry in your hands incredibly fascinating. "I guess I've just never found the right person... or the right moment."

A weighted silence settles between you, unusual in its intensity. You can feel Jeongin's eyes on you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I could teach you."

The words hang in the air, simple yet earth-shattering. Your head snaps up, certain you've misheard.

"Teach me what?"

Jeongin's expression is unreadable, a mix of nervousness and something else you can't quite place. "How to kiss. If you want."

You feel like the air has been sucked from the room. This is Jeongin—your best friend, the person who holds your hair back when you're sick and who can make you laugh until your sides hurt.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, attempting nonchalance though you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. "Only if we make it weird. It's just a skill, like teaching someone to drive or cook."

"A skill," you repeat skeptically.

"Yeah," he says, sliding down from the couch to sit across from you on the floor. "And then when you meet someone you actually want to kiss, you'll be ready."

You bite your lip, considering the possibility. The idea sends butterflies swarming through your stomach, but there's also a strange sense of... curiosity.

"Nothing would change between us?" you ask cautiously.

Jeongin shakes his head firmly. "Nothing. We're best friends first, always. This would just be me helping you out."

You take a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Yes. Teach me." You confirm, your heart pounding through your chest.

Jeongin moves closer, his movements careful and deliberate. "So first, it helps if you face each other," he explains, his voice lower than usual.

You readjust your position, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you and him. The jewelry laying forgotten on the floor beside you.

"Usually there's eye contact," he continues, and you force yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes—those familiar eyes you've looked into a thousand times—now seem different, deeper somehow.

You tried convincing yourself that it’s just kissing lessons but something about kissing him feels more intimate than it should.

"Then what?" you whisper.

"Then, one person usually leans in. Sometimes both." His hand comes up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, and you feel your breath catch. "Sometimes there's touching. Like this."

His fingers trace a feather-light path along your jawline, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. The sensation sends shivers down your spine.

"And then?" Your voice is barely audible now.

Instead of answering, Jeongin leans forward, closing the distance between you. His lips press against yours, gentle and questioning. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, your hand tentatively reaching up to rest on his shoulder.

The kiss is soft, a brief moment of connection that ends almost as quickly as it began. Jeongin pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

"That's the basics," he says, his voice rough around the edges. "A simple first kiss."

You nod, unable to form words. Your lips tingle where his had been, and you find yourself wanting more—a realization that both thrills and terrifies you.

He's your best friend. Right…?

As if reading your thoughts, Jeongin speaks again. "Then there are... deeper kisses."

"S-show me..." you whisper, surprising yourself with your boldness.

This time when he leans in, there's an urgency that wasn't there before. His lips capture yours more confidently, one hand cradling your face while the other slides around your waist, drawing you closer. You respond instinctively, your fingers tangling in his hair, gently tugging at the strands.

What started as a lesson quickly transformed into something neither of you anticipated. The kiss deepened and you feel yourself being gently guided backward until you're lying on the floor, Jeongin hovering above you, your lips never parting.

When you finally break apart, both breathing heavily, you stare up at him in wonder. His hair is disheveled where your fingers have been, his eyes dark and intense.

"Innie…" you breathe, not knowing what else to say.

Without a word, he dives right back in, capturing your lips with a newfound hunger. There's no hesitation now, his movements filled with a hunger you’ve never seen before — his body pressing down against yours making you gasp into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, any thoughts of keeping distance between you long forgotten.

"There's more I can teach you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with want. Before you can respond, his mouth begins to trail along your jawline, leaving a path of fire in its wake.

"Different types of kisses," he explains between soft pecks along your skin, "are for different sensations."

Your breath hitches as his lips reach the sensitive spot just below your ear. Instinctively, your head tilts to give him better access, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Like here," he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Then his lips press against your neck, gentle at first, then with increasing pressure. The sensation is entirely new to you, electric pulses shooting through your body with each kiss.

"Innie," you gasp, overwhelmed by the feeling.

His hand slides up to cradle the other side of your neck, a small smile forming on his lips at the nick name as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, his kisses become more intense. You feel the gentle graze of his teeth, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue against your pulse point, a soft moan falling from your lips as he repeated the action.

"Some people," he murmurs against your skin, "are more sensitive here than on their lips." As if to demonstrate, he places an open-mouthed kiss at the space where your neck meets your shoulder, causing you to arch involuntarily against him.

You're lost in sensation, any remaining thoughts about this being just a lesson completely gone. Your hands roam across his back, pulling him closer as he continues his thorough exploration of your neck.

When he finally returns to your lips, the kiss is different—deeper, more confident, as though he's staking a claim. You respond with equal fervor, the taste of him now familiar yet intoxicating.

As Jeongin pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, a small smile plays at his lips. "So," he says softly, "how was your first lesson?"

"I- I don't know what to say," you softly gasped, still recovering your breath.

Placing a soft peck on your lips, he sits up off the ground, gently taking your hand in his. "Come on. Let's go finish our original plans for the day."

Heart beating through your chest, you let him guide you off the ground and through the front door — the heated moment hanging in the air. A small part of you wishing it hadn't ended.

—

The next evening, you were in Stray Kids' dorm, squeezed comfortably between Jeongin and Hyunjin on the large sectional sofa. Chan had insisted on a movie night—something about needing to unwind after their intense practice schedule—and naturally, as Jeongin's best friend, you were included in the invitation.

What the others don't know is how everything changed between you and Jeongin just twenty-four hours ago.

The memory of his lips on yours, on your neck, makes your cheeks flush even now. You've spent most of today exchanging knowing glances, the anticipation of seeing him again had your stomach in knots all day.

"Everyone good with the movie choice?" Chan asks, remote in hand as he navigates through Netflix.

You barely register what film he selected—some action thriller the group has been wanting to watch. All you can focus on is Jeongin's proximity; the subtle scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his body next to yours.

"Y/N, want some?" Felix offers you the bowl of popcorn from across the coffee table.

"Thanks," you murmur, reaching for it. As you settle back with the bowl, Jeongin shifts closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours.

The lights dim as Chan starts the movie. Under the cover of darkness, Jeongin's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours between your bodies where no one else can see. Such a simple touch shouldn't send your heart racing, but after last night, everything is different.

Twenty minutes into the film, you're not following the plot at all. How could you, when Jeongin's thumb is tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand? When his breath occasionally tickles your ear as he leans over to whisper some joke about the movie?

By the thirty-minute mark, his hand had moved to your knee, resting there casually as though it belongs. The weight of it burns through the fabric of your jeans.

Halfway through the movie, during a particularly intense action sequence that has everyone's attention fixed on the screen, Jeongin's hand begins to move. Slowly, torturously, his fingers trace upward along your thigh, just far enough to make your breath hitch, gently squeezing the flesh.

You shoot him a warning glance, but the innocent smile he gives you in return is betrayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes. He knows exactly what he's doing.

His hand retreats momentarily when Changbin gets up to refill drinks, but as soon as everyone is settled again, it returns—this time sliding to your inner thigh, his touch feather-light but unmistakably close to where you could feel yourself growing needy. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your abdomen, his hand now venturing into territory that makes your pulse quicken and your thoughts get jumbled up.

When his fingers inch higher, gently squeezing your thigh, you nearly jump. It's too much—the darkened room, his members just feet away, completely oblivious, and Jeongin's touch threatening to unravel you entirely.

"Bathroom," you whisper, standing abruptly. Jisung pauses the movie, looking up at you questioningly.

"Just need a quick bathroom break," you explain, forcing a casual smile. "Don't wait up, I've seen this part."

You slip away from the living room, heart hammering against your ribs as you make your way down the hallway. The cool bathroom tiles are a relief under your feet as you close the door behind you, leaning against it and exhaling slowly.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, turning to face the mirror — your reflection showing flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

Splashing cold water on your face, you hear a soft knock at the door.

"Y/N?" Jeongin's voice is low, just audible enough for you to hear. "You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, you open the door just enough to see him standing there, concern etched across his features—though the darkness of his eyes tells another story.

"I'm fine," you whisper. "We should get back before they—"

Before you can finish, Jeongin has slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The bathroom suddenly feeling much smaller with him in it, the air between you charged with tension.

"What are you doing?" you ask, voice sounding small.

"I couldn't help myself," he admits, closing the distance between you. "Sitting next to you, not being able to really touch you... it's driving me crazy."

"Your members are right outside," you remind him, even as your body betrays you by leaning toward his.

"They're absorbed in the movie," he counters, his hands finding your waist. "Besides, I told them you weren't feeling well and I was checking on you."

"And they believed that?"

A small smile plays at his lips. "Felix gave me a knowing look, but the others are clueless."

Your protest dies in your throat as Jeongin presses you gently against the wall, his body flush against yours. Any restraints from before evaporated into thin air as his lips capture yours in a kiss that's hungry and desperate.

Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue meets yours. This isn't the careful instructional kiss from yesterday—this is raw need, months of pent-up desire finally breaking free.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt to touch and squeeze the bare skin at your waist. "About you."

Your response is lost as his mouth moves to your neck, finding the sensitive spots he discovered yesterday. The sensation pulls a soft moan from you, which Jeongin quickly silences with another kiss.

"Quiet," he whispers, a teasing glint in his eye. "Unless you want everyone to hear."

The thought of being caught should terrify you, but instead, it only heightens everything—the racing of your pulse, the heat of his touch, the urgency of your kisses.

His hand slides back to your thigh, higher than he dared in the living room, his fingers tracing patterns that make your breath catch. When he presses his hips against yours, you can feel exactly how much he wants you.

"Innie," you gasp as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot below your ear.

“Fuck, y/n.” he grumbles against your neck, softly nipping and licking at the skin there, eliciting more moans from you.

“Innie, ngh, you’re gonna l-leave marks,” you whined, your defiance falling short as you arched into him.

“We should stop,” he mumbles between open mouthed kisses.

You both knew you should, but neither of you make an effort to move.

A sudden knock on the door makes you both freeze.

"Y/N? Jeongin?" It's Chan's voice. "Everything okay in there? Movie's almost over."

Removing himself from your neck, Jeongin clears his throat. "We're fine, hyung. Y/N just felt a little dizzy. We'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," Chan replies, though you can hear the question in his tone. "We're thinking of ordering food after."

Footsteps retreat down the hallway, and you both release the breath you've been holding.

Jeongin's forehead drops to yours, a small laugh escaping him. "That was close."

"Yeah," you let out breathy laugh. "We should get back."

He nods, stepping back reluctantly, but not before pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips. "This isn't over yet," he promises, his voice low with intention.

As you straighten your clothes and Jeongin attempts to fix his hair, you catch his eye in the mirror. The boy who was just your best friend yesterday now looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees weak.

"Ready?" he asks, hand on the doorknob.

You nod, knowing that while you're about to return to a room full of his members and pretend nothing has changed, everything has. The line you crossed yesterday isn't just crossed—it's been erased entirely, replaced by something new and thrilling and completely uncharted.

As Jeongin opens the door, his hand finds yours for just a moment, giving it a squeeze before letting go. It's a promise of what's to come, once you're alone again.

And suddenly, you can't wait for this movie night to end.

[zeroseuniverse]

Oh my gosh I need to know how their Wooyoung's date goes please 🙏🏻 💕

You Are The Only Exception

Word Count: 832 Summary: "You brought me to a café?" you mused as you slid into your seat. "I was expecting something more… chaotic." Pairing: Wooyoung X Reader

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Wooyoung showed up at your door looking… different. Not drastically so—he was still Wooyoung, still had that effortless charm—but something about him felt quieter. Like, for once, he wasn’t trying to fill the air with noise.

"You clean up nice," you teased, eyeing the way he’d traded his usual playful wardrobe for something a little neater—still casual, but with an intentionality you hadn’t seen before.

"Had to step up my game," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn’t want to mess this up."

That caught you off guard. Wooyoung never seemed nervous. Yet here he was, shifting his weight slightly, watching you like your reaction actually mattered.

You softened. "So, what’s the plan?"

He perked up at that. "Come find out."

The two of you ended up at a quiet little café, tucked away from the usual crowds. It was cozy, the kind of place that felt untouched by time, with warm lighting and soft music playing in the background.

"You brought me to a café?" you mused as you slid into your seat. "I was expecting something more… chaotic."

Wooyoung chuckled. "I thought about it. But I wanted to actually talk to you—without distractions, without me being, y'know, me all the time."

You tilted your head. "And who are you being right now?"

His gaze flickered to yours, steady in a way that made your heart stutter. "Just… someone who really likes you."

You weren’t sure how to respond to that.

For once, there were no jokes, no over-the-top gestures. Just Wooyoung, looking at you like he meant every word.

The conversation came easily after that. He asked about your favorite books, your childhood memories, the little things that most people never thought to ask. And he listened—really listened. No interruptions, no teasing, just quiet attention.

At some point, you realized how natural it felt. How easy it was to just be with him.

"You’re not what I expected," you admitted, stirring your drink.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I mean, I knew you were obnoxious," you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp. "But I didn’t expect you to be… this thoughtful."

He smiled, something small and genuine. "I meant what I said. I never wanted this to be a game."

You let that settle between you, warm and certain.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe it.

The café had long since emptied of its earlier rush, leaving behind only the quiet hum of conversation from a few late-night customers. Your drinks sat half-finished between you, but neither of you made a move to leave.

You weren’t ready for this night to end.

Wooyoung leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping lightly against his cup. He had relaxed sometime during the night, the nervous edge from earlier melting into something softer, more open. His usual playful grin was still there, but it was gentler now—not a mask, just him.

"You know," he started, tilting his head, "I think this is the longest we’ve ever talked without you threatening me."

You laughed. "Don’t get used to it."

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Too late. I like this side of you."

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. "You act like I’m some cold-hearted villain."

"Never said that," he countered smoothly. "But you do have walls."

Your fingers tightened slightly around your cup. "And you don’t?"

Wooyoung exhaled a soft laugh, nodding as he conceded the point. "Fair enough." He traced the rim of his cup with his fingertip, suddenly thoughtful. "I think people assume I don’t take things seriously because I joke around so much."

You stayed quiet, sensing there was more he wanted to say.

"But I do," he murmured. "Especially when it comes to the people that matter."

Your heart did something complicated in your chest.

"Wooyoung…"

His eyes lifted to yours, warm and steady. "I don’t want to rush you," he said quietly. "I know I’ve spent so much time pretending none of this mattered, but it does. You do. And if you need time to figure out how you feel about that, I’ll wait."

You weren’t sure when it had happened—when the flirt who drove you insane became the person sitting across from you, saying things that made your breath catch.

Maybe it had always been there, underneath the teasing and the quips. Maybe you had just refused to see it.

The weight of his words settled between you, steady and patient.

"I don’t think I need time," you admitted, voice quieter now. "I think I just needed to hear you say it."

His lips parted slightly, as if surprised by your honesty. But then, slowly, that warm, genuine smile spread across his face—the one he didn’t show just anyone.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Wooyoung reached across the table, fingers brushing tentatively against yours. It wasn’t a grand gesture, nothing dramatic. Just warmth, a quiet promise between you.

And for the first time, you let yourself hold on.