#though i was staring at him all night last night

[littlelamy]

Could you write a Rafe x reader fic where reader says she wants to spend more time with Rafe, but he gets upsets and says something mean in the heat of the moment. Reader is upset and stops "bothering" him and initially Rafe doesn't realise it, but he figures out you're ignoring him

Maybe with a fluffy HEA ending, but if you want to keep it angsty I'm also all for it (:

hope you like it! ⭐️ it was a quiet friday night when you finally found the courage to bring it up. things with rafe hadn’t been the same for a while. he was always out with friends or buried in work, his phone practically glued to his hand. you could see him drifting further and further away, and it left you feeling like an afterthought. you missed him, missed the little moments when he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world.

so, you decided to say something—softly, carefully—as the two of you sat on the couch with takeout boxes scattered around you.

“hey…baby,” you started, keeping your voice light. “i was thinking… it’d be nice if we could spend a little more time together, you know? just us.”

rafe barely looked up, shoveling food into his mouth. “what’re you talking about?” he mumbled through a bite. “we’re together now, aren’t we?”

you forced a smile. “yeah, but… i mean like actually spending time together. like doing something fun. or even just… talking.”

he let out an irritated sigh, setting his food down with a clatter. “are you serious right now? i’ve got so much shit to deal with, and you’re really gonna start whining about ‘spending time together’? Jesus, can you just not be so goddamn needy for once?”

the words hit you like a punch. you froze, staring at him, trying to process the fact that he’d actually said that. rafe’s face was already turned away, clearly oblivious to the way his words had cut through you.

you felt your throat tighten, but you managed to swallow back the hurt, forcing yourself not to react. the last thing you wanted was to give him more reason to see you as a burden. so, you nodded, blinking down at your food, even though you suddenly couldn’t eat a bite.

“sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. but rafe didn’t hear, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to ask you to repeat it. he’d already gone back to his phone, acting like the conversation had never even happened.

that night, you made a decision. if rafe wanted space, you’d give him space. you stopped asking him to go out with you, to spend time together, to do any of the little things you used to enjoy. when he came home late, you didn’t wait up. when he sat down on the couch, you found something else to do. if he wanted room, you’d make sure he had more than enough of it.

at first, rafe didn’t seem to notice the change. he thought you were just busy with work or hanging out with friends, maybe that you’d taken his words to heart. it wasn’t until a few days had passed that he started to feel the shift, the strange, nagging quiet in the air whenever you were around.

you were no longer the warm, lively presence you used to be, filling the silence with laughter, stories, and little gestures of affection. instead, you felt distant, almost guarded, your movements careful, like you were tiptoeing around him. you didn’t smile at him the way you used to; you didn’t light up when he came home. you’d become polite, restrained, keeping just enough distance that he felt it even when he didn’t want to.

one night, rafe came home late, expecting to see you in the living room with a book or a show. but the lights were dim, the place eerily silent, and when he checked the bedroom, you were already asleep. he stood there for a moment, feeling an odd pang of emptiness. he brushed it off, but as the days went by, the feeling gnawed at him more and more, leaving him with an ache he couldn’t ignore.

finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. one night, he found you alone in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea with your gaze far away. he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you, his expression unreadable.

“are you avoiding me or something?” he asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

you looked up, a flicker of surprise in your eyes before you masked it with a tight smile. “no, i’m not avoiding you, rafe. i just… didn’t want to bother you.”

that word—bother—hit him hard, dredging up the memory of his own callous words. he felt something twist in his chest as he realized what he’d done, how his careless anger had made you feel so small, like you didn’t even deserve to be there.

“fuck,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “look, i’m sorry, alright? i was a complete asshole, princess. i was stressed, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

you shrugged, your face guarded, unreadable. “it’s fine. i get it. you’re busy, and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“Jesus, stop saying that,” he mumbled, stepping closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “you’re not in my way. you’re the only person who… who makes all this shit bearable. i just didn’t see it until you started pulling away.”

for a long moment, you said nothing, just staring at him, weighing his words. finally, he took a tentative step forward, reaching for your hand. when you didn’t pull away, he felt a flicker of hope.

“let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’ll cancel my plans this weekend. we’ll do whatever you want, i swear. just… give me another chance.”

your gaze softened, and a small, hesitant smile crept onto your lips. “alright. one chance.”

he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight embrace, his relief flooding through him. you relaxed into him, and for the first time in days, you felt the warmth return, that aching void in your chest slowly filling up again.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, genuine. “i swear, i’ll never take you for granted again. you mean too fucking much to me.”

you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath you, his arms strong and comforting. and as he held you there, you felt the hurt start to fade, replaced by a quiet, growing hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole

[syluslnd]

hi!! i love your writing, i’ve never made a request before, but i was thinking about sylus (in the early stages of their relationship, the “rivalry”) finding MC at his door injured?? like a “i had nowhere else to go” kind of a situation

when you end up at your rivals doorstep

A chill filled the night air as you limped up to Sylus’s front door, each step sending a fresh wave of pain through your body. Blood stained your clothes and every inch of you ached but you had nowhere else to go. You and Sylus had always been two sides of the same coin—equal in skill, stubborn as hell, always toeing the line between animosity and something… else. But, in this moment, all you wanted was to see him.

With a trembling hand, you knocked weakly on his door before your vision blurred and your knees buckled. The world tilted and you sank to the cold ground, the last bit of strength leaving your body.

You weren’t sure how much time passed but the sudden flood of light hit your closed eyelids as the door opened. You forced your eyes open just enough to see him—Sylus, staring down at you, clearly about to make some sarcastic remark. But then his eyes widened and all traces of humor vanished.

“Sweetie” His tone was shocked, low with concern, as he dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uncertainly over your bloody, bruised form. “What the hell happened to you?”

You managed a weak, half-smile. “Long story…” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

Without hesitation, Sylus scooped you up in his arms, his grip surprisingly gentle but unyielding. He carried you inside, the warmth of his chest against your cheek feeling like the only thing keeping you grounded. The smell of him—warm, familiar, infuriatingly comforting—filled your senses and despite the pain, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

Sylus laid you down on his plush couch, his gaze sharp as he took in every injury, his jaw clenching tightly. “I hate seeing you like this” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his fingers brushing a blood-matted strand of hair from your face. “What were you thinking, coming here like this?”

You let out a faint chuckle, though it hurt to laugh. “You know I don’t run to you unless it’s… a last resort.” Your voice was faint but you tried to keep your usual sass, even through the haze of pain.

He scoffed but his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. “And here I thought you’d be too stubborn to admit you needed my help” he murmured, grabbing a clean cloth and carefully dabbing at the cut on your forehead. His touch was surprisingly tender and you closed your eyes, focusing on the warmth of his hands, the way he was taking care of you despite every argument you’d ever had.

“I… I didn’t know where else to go” you whispered, feeling yourself growing drowsy, exhaustion finally overtaking you.

He went silent, his gaze lingering on your face as he continued tending to your wounds. You weren’t sure if it was the pain or the proximity but you could feel your heartbeat quicken under his gentle touch. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could hear your own voice whispering that this was dangerous—that you should pull away, keep up your walls, protect yourself. But here, lying battered and broken in Sylus’s living room, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

His hand stilled, hovering over your shoulder as his eyes met yours, a conflicted look crossing his face. “You know I can’t stand you, right?” he murmured, though there was no real malice in his voice. “But… seeing you like this…” His voice faltered, his usual cockiness gone. “I hate it even more.”

Something in you broke. Maybe it was the pain or the adrenaline—or maybe you were just too tired of pretending. “Yeah, well, I can’t stand you,too” you whispered, trying for sarcasm but sounding much more vulnerable than you intended. “But maybe that’s… not the whole truth.”

You barely processed your own words before his gaze softened, surprise flickering in his eyes. He studied you, his fingers stilling on your shoulder as his expression shifted, like he was searching for something in your face.

“Do you know what you’re saying,sweetie” he murmured, his voice soft, almost hesitant—a tone you’d never heard from him before.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling your pulse race. “I… I think so” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but… I don’t hate you, Sylus. Not like that.”

For a moment, there was only silence and you braced yourself, half-expecting him to laugh it off, to throw some snarky remark back at you. But instead, his gaze softened, and he leaned in, his hand slipping to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“I guess I don’t hate you either” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Infuriating as you are.”

You felt your face heat up but you couldn’t look away, your breaths shallow as his face hovered just inches from yours. The tension between you was palpable, a slow burn that had been building for far too long and in this moment, it felt like it was finally going to snap.

But he just gave you a teasing smirk, leaning back ever so slightly. “Just don’t expect me to go easy on you after this. You’ll owe me, big time.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile breaking through despite the pain. “Trust me, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

And as Sylus settled down beside you, his hand resting protectively on your arm, you realized that maybe, just maybe, your rivalry wasn’t as simple as it had once seemed and as you drifted off, his warmth anchoring you, you felt something new stirring—a feeling you weren’t sure you wanted to fight anymore.

[misctf]

Me and my buddy get along well but I don’t have a father and for some reason I feel like I look up to him. He’s a brunette hockey player who really cares about his body and tracks all of his cals. Any way you could spike one of his beers and give me the best exjock dad ever?

“Let’s go!” Your bro throws down his game controller and looks over at you. His confident smile adorning his handsome, angular face, “I used that same move on the ice the other day.” His clear excitement is infectious and you can’t help but smile.

It was another one of your usual game nights with your bro. The two of you sitting on the couch, controllers in hand, playing some hockey videogame. And even though he always seemed to win, you just enjoy the moment. Your friendship started out when you were younger- the two of you meeting in grade school. And as the years went on, you grew closer. You’d go to his hockey games and cheer him on. He’d fill in as that male role model you needed. When you went to college, he’d continue playing hockey, while you focused on your studies. But you continued to enjoy each other’s company. But this was your last year, and he planned to move across the country. The very thought was painful. Losing him would be tough.

“Hey, you good?” He asks, “I told you I wasn’t going easy.”

You smile, “I was wondering,” You begin, “I know you don’t like beer...”

“Gotta keep these toned.” He says, running a hand down his exposed abs.

“But it’s bro night.” You continue, “I got some special beers for us.”

He seems to consider the offer. Part of him looking a bit apprehensive. After all, he spent much of his time focusing on maintaining his body. His lean muscles and thicc hockey butt were all products of his careful diet and dedicated workouts. But he could tell it would mean a lot to you. He nods slowly.

“One won’t hurt.” He says with a grin, “Cheers to another game night.”

Part of you feels relieved. Another part of you feels somewhat apprehensive. If the man you bought this beer from was telling you the truth... well, you didn’t know what to think. It was probably some prank anyway, and you probably wasted the money. You hand him a solo cup with the beer in it.

“To bro night.” He smiles and takes a sip of the beer, “You know, I’m gonna miss this.” You feel a pang of sadness in your chest, “But we’ll always be bros.”

You nod, taking in his words. Feeling a sense of impending loss. Wishing you could just enjoy these moments forever.

“I’m gonna miss this too... dad.”

He looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, “What did you just call me?” He chuckles.

And you can see it. A few hairs starting to emerge from his once clean-shaven face. A few greys appearing in his brunette locks. Was it true? Was this stuff really going to do what the man said it would?

“Nothing, dad.”

And as the words leave your lips, your buddy groans. His youthful skin starts to lose its glow. A few wrinkles appear on his forehead. And the hair on his face sprouts into a full beard. His hands rush to scratch his new facial hair and his eyes widen.

“Bro, what the hell...” He whispers, “Something’s wrong...”

“What do you mean, dad?”

You watch as his brunette locks begin to recede and his tan vanishes. All the while, small, itchy hairs start to sprout from your buddy’s chest and abs. At this point, he stands up and runs his hands down his new body hair. There’s a look of disgust and confusion on his face, and you can’t help but feel bad for him. After all, he did pride his clean-shaven look.

“You keep calling me dad.” He says, staring at you, “And now...” He catches a glimpse of his receding hairline and aged skin in the mirror, “Bro, please. Whatever you’re doing, you gotta fuckin’ stop.”

You could tell he was getting angry. But you were still marveling over the effects of this drink. You couldn’t believe it was actually working.

“Bro, are you even listening to me?” He says, “Please! You can’t...”

“Sorry dad.” You reply, putting even more emphasis on “dad.”

The effects are more dramatic. Your buddy lets out a pained moan and falls to his knees, gripping his abs. You can see tears fall from his eyes as he realizes his firm abs are feeling softer. And in only a few moments, his abs are covered by a thick layer of fat. And another. And another. And although your buddy is too busy squeezing his new flabby stomach, you can see his pecs fill with fat and sag, resting atop his new gut.

“This can’t be...” He winces at his new, gravelly voice, “Oh god, I sound so old.” He looks up at you, tears still staining his eyes, “Dude, come on... please... I can’t be this.”

A part of you feels bad, even guilty. Your friend’s anger replaced by fear. His confidence shattered. His toned physique truly replaced by that of a middle-aged dad. Part of you wants to reverse this. But you don’t even know how.

“I...” You bite your lip, “Look, I don’t even know if I can undo this, dad.”

Your buddy shuts his eyes and shakes as the short hairs erupt into longer follicles. You watch as a forest of hairs emerge from under his shorts and travel down his legs. His new gut and soft chest are covered in a forest of gray and dark hairs. And you realize now there’s nothing left of your old buddy, at least physically. His receding hairline, gray hairs, gut, and hirsute form all scream middle-aged dad. He slowly stands up, wincing at a pain in his lower back and knees, as he becomes more familiar with his new age.

“Dude...” He whispers, “What did you do?” You can hear the anger return to his voice.

“I didn’t want to lose you, bro.” You say, “And I’ve always looked up to you. And truthfully, I’ve always wanted a dad and the beer promised it could do that. Just as long as I called whoever drank it dad.” Your friend looks shocked and picks up the solo cup.

“Good one dude.” He laughs, “Okay, okay you got me. Maybe if I drink the beer and you call me bro or something, I can return to normal.” He says hopefully, “I promise we can forget all about this.” The desperation starts to creep back into his voice, “Just... please I don’t want this.” He begs.

You’re not a bad person. You even feel a bit guilty. And part of you even wants to do as he suggests. But another thought enters your head. Would he be able to forget all about this? Would he forgive you? You bite your lip and sigh.

“I’m sorry,” You can see his eyes widen in terror, “Dad.”

He drops the beer in his hand, causing the beer inside to spray everywhere. His eyes glaze over and his jaw goes slack. A part of you worries for a moment, but slowly he smiles. There’s no evidence of concern on his face.

“Ah sorry, I spaced out there for a second.” He chuckles, “Looks like I made a mess.” He goes to bend over to pick up the cup, but winces, “Damn back’s been acting up.”

“Don’t worry dad.” You say as he sits back down on the couch, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” He reassures, “Come on, we have to finish our game.” He says with a grin, grabbing the game controller, “You know, I was quite the hockey player back in my day. Well before this.” He chuckles, patting his beer gut.

“I know.” You reply, sitting next to him, “You tell me all the time.” The two of you start to play, and you immediately notice his videogame skills are not where they used to be. But you’re enjoying this moment- going on as if nothing changed.

“Look at that!” He cheers when he scores a goal, “I told you not to take it easy on me, son.”

You go to reply but you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You quickly shake your head and return to the game. And only a few minutes later, he scores another goal.

“You doing okay there, son?” He asks.

And again, you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You look down at the controller and can’t help but notice that your forearms look a bit thicker- your hands meatier. You shake your head and look up at your dad.

“Uh, I’m good dad.” Your voice even sounds deeper- somewhat dumb too, “I-I gotta go to my room.”

You stumble towards your room, feeling somewhat off balance. Entering your room, you’re immediately hit by the smell of intense BO. The same way your bro would smell after a hockey game. There’s gear on your bed and random posters of hockey players on your walls. You barely have time to comprehend what’s going on, when you hear your dad’s voice.

“Hey son, are you okay?”

You groan as your muscles begin to contract violently and your shirt tears from your growing musculature. You can see yourself in the mirror- abs, thicc ass, and lean muscles- the body of a hockey player. And you realize that you’re becoming your dad’s ideal son. Somehow, the beer that splashed on you had the same effects as drinking it.

“Wait dad!” You call out, wincing at the oafish jock-like tone that saturates your words, “Please...!”

“Son?” He asks opening the door.

And your eyes glaze over. Your jaw goes slack. And you feel your mind warping and changing. Any memories you had of your old life or self are being forced into the very back of your mind- all to make room for your new existence as a smelly, ripped, hockey jock. Your dad’s perfect son.

“God it reeks in here.” Your dad laughs, patting you on the back, “Must be workin’ hard out there.”

“You fuckin’ know it.” You reply, eyes dull, “It’s gonna be a good game tomorrow, pops.”

“You learned from the best, champ.” He smiles, “Now come on, we got a game to finish.” You smile, “I want to show you one of my favorite moves. Worked every time. Maybe you can try it out on the ice tomorrow.”

“For sure, pops.”

You follow your dad back to the couch. The two of you playing videogames late into the night, filling the air with boisterous cheers as you played. You couldn’t have asked for a better dad. And he couldn’t have asked for a better son.

[won4kiss]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────I’LL WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE.

(🧺) ── 𝓙EONG JAEHYUN﹙정재현﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ f2l ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ lovesick jae❞ best friend! jaehyun x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 2.7K ꒱ SYPNoSiS 𐙚 year by year, moment by moment, growing up with jaehyun has led to the love you’ve been waiting for all along .ᐟ ── LiBRARY

─2005

THE FIRST TIME YOU MEET JEONG JAEHYUN,

you’re both eight years old, and it’s the last day of second grade—it’s one of those annoyingly hot afternoons where the sun is brighter than ever, stretching shadows across the playground.

you’re sitting on the swings, your feet barely brushing the sand, when you notice a boy standing nearby, hesitating, as if unsure whether to approach.

he’s holding a small toy in his hands, a little red car with chipped paint, and he’s staring at it with a furrowed brow.

he finally looks up and meets your gaze, and there’s something curious and open in his eyes.

“hi,” he says, his voice nervous but steady. “i’m jaehyun.”

you tilt your head, watching him, and he gestures to the empty swing beside you. “can i sit?” ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

you nod, and he sits down, gripping the rusty chains of the swing and kicking his feet off the ground in a way that feels awkward, like he’s too big for it already.

for a while, the two of you just sit, listening to the squeak of the swings and the lively chatter of the kids around you.

“i like the swings,” he finally says, his voice quiet. “it feels like i’m flying, like superman.”

you smile, feeling an instant connection to this boy with his shy smile and big dreams. “me too, but batman’s better than superman.”

from that day on, jaehyun becomes a constant in your life.

every day after school, he finds you on the playground, and together, you make up games, share secrets, and talk about everything from your favorite snacks to the names you’d give your future pets.

he tells you he wants to be a singer someday, his face lighting up with excitement, and you tell him that you think he’ll be amazing at it.

─2010

MIDDLE SCHOOL ARRIVES, BRINGING A LOAD OF CHANGE.

suddenly, jaehyun is taller, his voice has deepened, and he’s taken up basketball.

you notice the way people seem to watch him now, like he’s someone worth paying attention to.

but even though he’s growing into himself, becoming the kind of boy who can light up a room, he’s still your best friend.

one autumn afternoon, the two of you are sitting on the grass behind the school, sharing a pack of chips after practice.

the leaves are a vibrant mix of orange and red around you, and the air is crisp, the kind that makes you feel alive.

as you talk, he reaches over and plucks a small wildflower growing in the grass, examining it with a thoughtful expression—without a word, he hands it to you, his cheeks turning pink.

“it reminded me of you,” he says, a little shyly. “small but… strong.”

you take the flower, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest that you can’t quite place your finger on.

you press it between the pages of your notebook that night, letting it dry as a quiet reminder of that moment, a memory of a shift between you, unspoken but deeply felt.

─2014

BY HIGH SCHOOL, JAEHYUN IS SOMEONE EVERYONE NOTICES.

he’s joined the basketball team and fills out his uniform in a way that turns heads—girls pass him notes in class, and he’s always surrounded by people who want to be near him, to bask in his warmth.

but even with all the attention, he never changes around you.

he’s still the boy who waits for you outside your classroom, who finds you in the crowded hallways with an easy smile.

one friday night, there’s a big party, and he convinces you to go with him—the house is filled with people, the music loud and the lights dim.

you feel a little out of place, but jaehyun stays by your side, his arm slung over your shoulder as he introduces you to his friends, laughing and making sure you’re comfortable.

at some point, the noise becomes too much, and you slip outside for a moment to catch your breath.

you’re leaning against the porch railing, looking up at the stars, when you hear footsteps behind you.

“hey,” jaehyun’s voice is soft, and he’s smiling as he joins you, leaning beside you on the railing. “you okay?”

you nod, grateful for the quiet moment away from the crowd. “just needed some air.”

he watches you, his gaze warm. “thanks for coming with me. i know parties aren’t really your thing.”

his words make you feel seen in a way that goes deeper than friendship, and you wonder if he can hear your heart pounding in the stillness.

for a moment, you’re both quiet, the night stretching around you, and you feel a longing settle deep in your chest—a quiet, insistent feeling that you’re almost afraid to acknowledge.

─2016

SENIOR YEAR IS A BITTERSWEET TIME.

the two of you are talking about colleges, dreams, and the future—you’ve applied to different universities, and the thought of not seeing jaehyun every day makes your heart ache.

one afternoon, you’re sitting in the school gym, watching as he practices with the basketball team.

he’s focused, his movements graceful and sure, and you find yourself lost in the sight of him—when practice ends, he jogs over, grinning, his hair damp with sweat.

“thanks for waiting,” he says, a little breathless, he tosses his towel over his shoulder, his smile softening as he looks at you.

“can we go somewhere?” he asks after a moment, his voice quiet.

there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that you rarely see, and you nod, letting him lead you outside.

you end up at the park, the same one where you met years ago.

sitting on the swings, just like you did when you were kids, there’s a feeling of nostalgia between you, a sense that something is ending.

“i’m going to miss this,” he murmurs, his voice soft. he looks at you, his eyes reflecting the sadness in your own.

for a moment, you feel a surge of courage, the desire to tell him everything that’s been building in your heart over the years.

but the words catch in your throat, and instead, you reach over, slipping your hand into his.

“me too,” you whisper.

─2018

UNIVERSITY IS A STRANGE AND LONELY PLACE WITHOUT JAEHYUN.

you both try to stay in touch, texting and calling when you can, but the distance is hard, the busy schedules and new friendships creating gaps that you can’t always bridge.

but you still make time for each other, clinging to the friendship that has been your constant for so long.

one weekend, he comes to visit you—the moment you see him standing outside your dorm, that familiar, warm smile lighting up his face, it feels like coming home.

you spend the day exploring the city, eating at food stalls, wandering through bookstores, laughing and talking like no time has passed at all.

that night, you’re lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

jaehyun is beside you, his breathing steady and soft—you can feel the warmth of his body, the comfort of his presence, and you wonder if he knows how much he means to you.

in the quiet darkness, he reaches over, his hand finding yours. “you’re still my favorite person,” he whispers, his voice carrying a vulnerability that makes your heart ache.

you squeeze his hand, the words catching in your throat. “you’re mine too, jaehyun.”

─2021

NOW TWENTY-FOUR,

you’re both navigating the chaos of post-college life, juggling work, bills, and responsibilities.

jaehyun’s career is taking off, his life filled with new challenges, new dreams.

and though your paths have diverged, you still find time for each other, the bond between you as strong as ever.

one evening, he shows up at your apartment, looking exhausted and worn, the weight of his schedule pressing heavily on his shoulders.

without a word, you pull him inside, letting him sink onto the couch.

you make him tea, sitting beside him as he sips it slowly, his eyes closed in relief. “thanks for this,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “i just… needed a break.”

you reach over, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “you don’t have to do everything alone, jaehyun. i’m here.”

his eyes open, meeting yours, and there’s something deep and raw in his gaze, a quiet acknowledgment of everything you’ve shared over the years.

he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that feels intimate, grounding.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

and in that moment, you know that no matter where life takes you, he’ll always be a part of your story.

─2023

NOW AT TWENTY-SIX,

you’re both a little older, a little wiser, but still tethered by that bond that has carried you through every stage of life.

you’ve shared dreams, heartaches, and countless memories, and through it all, your feelings for jaehyun have only grown, a quiet love that’s been there all along.

one summer evening, you’re at his apartment, cooking dinner together.

the kitchen is a mess, there’s sauce spilled on the counter, the scent of garlic filling the air.

you’re laughing, both of you a little tipsy, the warmth of the wine making you feel bold.

as you sit down to eat, jaehyun looks at you, his expression serious, his gaze soft and steady.

“there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you, i’ve been putting it off for about a decade though,” he says jokingly, but you could hear the weight behind his words.

your heart skips a beat, and you meet his gaze, feeling the seriousness of the mood.

“i think… i think i’ve been in love with you for a long time,” he confesses, his voice trembling anxiously. “i didn’t know how to tell you, or even if i should. but i can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

tears fill your eyes as you reach for his hand, your fingers entwining. “i’ve been waiting for you to say that for so so long,” you whisper, your voice heavy with emotion. “i love you too, jaehyun.”

in that moment, every doubt, every fear melts away, leaving only the truth that’s been there all along—he’s the love you’ve been waiting for.

and as he pulls you into his arms, holding you close, you know that you’ve finally made it where you were always meant to be.

─PRESENT DAY

NOW, LYING BESIDE JAEHYUN IN THE EARLY MORNING LIGHT,

you feel the quiet peace that comes from being right where you’re meant to be.

the sunlight filters softly through the blinds, gentle rays fill the room and paints jaehyun’s face in warm, golden light.

his arm is draped over your waist, and you can feel his slow, steady breathing, his warmth seeping into you as he stirs slightly, eyes fluttering open.

he blinks, looking at you with a sleepy smile, the kind that’s just for you, a little private thing that makes your heart swell.

his hair is tousled, his face soft with sleep, and you can’t help but reach up, brushing a strand away from his forehead.

“morning,” he murmurs, his voice thick and a little raspy, but filled with a tenderness that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“morning,” you reply, your voice just as soft.

for a moment, you both lie there in comfortable silence, simply watching each other, basking in the warmth of the morning and the quiet intimacy that fills the room.

jaehyun lifts his hand, gently running his thumb over your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours.

“what’s on your mind?” he asks quietly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through you, a joy that’s almost too big for words. “you,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks heat up, even after all these years of knowing him.

his smile widens, a small chuckle escaping as he leans closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss that feels like a promise.

he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes shining with that familiar, deep affection that has only grown with time.

“i really like that answer,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle murmur that echoes the countless quiet moments you’ve shared over the years.

as you lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, you think of everything you’ve been through, every stage of life you’ve faced side by side.

from playgrounds to high school hallways, from late-night calls in college to quiet evenings in the kitchen, your lives have been woven together in a bundle of shared moments, small joys, and unspoken promises.

jaehyun sighs, a contented, happy sound as he pulls you closer, his hand trailing up and down your back in a slow, comforting rhythm.

“i don’t think i ever told you this,” he says, his voice a quiet murmur. “but there was always something about you… from the very beginning. even as kids, i knew that you were going to be someone special to me. someone i couldn’t live without.”

you smile, feeling a lump form in your throat as his words sink in—you reach up, cupping his cheek, brushing your thumb along his jawline.

“i think i always knew, too,” you say softly. “you’ve been my best friend, my constant… and now my love.”

a warmth blooms between you, filling the room with a quiet kind of joy that feels both old and new, a love that’s grown through years of friendship and shared memories.

jaehyun presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he whispers, “thank you for waiting for me. for always being there.”

you close your eyes, leaning into his touch, your heart swelling with a happiness that feels almost overwhelming.

“you were worth the wait, jaehyun,” you murmur, feeling the truth of those words settle around you like a warm blanket.

the two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, letting the quiet morning stretch around you.

it’s a moment that feels suspended in time, a snapshot of a love that’s been years in the making, built on a foundation of trust and friendship.

eventually, he shifts, pulling you closer, his gaze soft as he studies your face.

“what do you say we make breakfast?” he suggests, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

you laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at the familiar suggestion. “as long as you don’t burn the food this time,” you tease, poking his side.

jaehyun grins, a playful light in his eyes as he sits up, pulling you with him. “no promises,” he says, his laughter filling the room as he pulls you out of bed and leads you to the kitchen, your hands still intertwined.

as you sit down together, sharing a simple breakfast, you realize that this—these quiet, everyday moments—are the ones you’ll cherish the most.

because after all the years of waiting, all the moments of longing and uncertainty, you’ve finally found your way to each other after all your years of knowing him.

jaehyun reaches across the table, his hand finding yours, his fingers warm and steady around yours.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with a quiet, enduring love that speaks of all the years you’ve shared, all the small moments that have led you here.

and in that moment, with his hand in yours and his smile lighting up the room, you know that every second of waiting was worth it.

every second of waiting for his love was worth it.

© WON4KISS 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

NOTE. i genuinely enjoyed writing this sm !! i miss my husband already guys this is so horrendous T-T i was listening to we can’t be friends string ver while writing this i’m literally sobbing ☹️

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request a headcanon of whb king (plus any other characters you want) reacting to gn mc avoiding them for as long as she can because mc got dared to by some random demon

WHB kings' reaction to MC avoiding them because of a dare

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Hi! This was so fun to write since each king had a completelly different reaction ^^ Sorry for the long wait though t-t

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Oh, Satan doesn't like this at all

The moment he notices your suspiciously long absence, he's on the prowl

Where are you and why tf are you avoiding him?

He'll even send out Amy and his group to look for you and bring you to him

Hopefully he'll during his search find out about the dare

At least hopefully for you

Poor demon who dared you will find himself homeless after Satan in his demon form destroys his place

Once that's dealt with, the next time you go outisde, you come face to face with Satan, leaning back against his bike

"Talked to that mf. The dare's called off :)"

    ༺☆༻

Mammon notices that you haven't been around him much, but he just chalks it up to you being busy

He's okay with it, knowing that eventually you'll come back to him anyway

Besides, if you needed something, you'd surely call him

After finding out that it's a dare, he's also curious how long you'll be able to keep away from him

If he ever gets worried about you, he'll just send one of his nobles to check up on you

Once you're back to him, he's taking you out for a dinner to congratulate you on how long you lasted

    ༺☆༻

Leviathan knew from the beginning thanks to Foras

You don't even get to leave the Hades castle so it's easier for you to avoid him when you get a message from the devil who dared you that the dare is off

It doesn't take a genius to realise that the poor demon had been visited by His Majesty himself and forced to end your dare early

Most likely, if you video-called with him, he'll be gasping for air, hung by a noose

The next time you see Leviathan, he acts like nothing happened, but you can feel his piercing stare when you're not looking at him

He's most likely not sure how to punish you yet...

But once he does...

Oh boy, now comes the moment to avoid him for the sole sake of your survival

    ༺☆༻

Funny :)

You think you can avoid Beel? :)

I mean, technically you could do that by hanging around in the Abyssos castle, but even then you can't exactly avoid Beel

If Beel wants to see you, he'll come and see you

Doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing

Even if it means that he'll have to sneak through his own castle to escape Bael's wrath

And even more so, if he finds out about the dare...

Oops, he just reminded he meant to take you to this place and booked it in advance and can't cancel it

Sorry, guess you'll have to spend the whole month with him :)

I guess the rule with Beel is that the more you want him, the less he'll be around

(True story with my pulls for his cards tbh T-T)

    ༺☆༻

Belphie would probably realise that it's been a while since you were there when he woke up, but eh...

Maybe you're just busy doing your work

No sweat

That is until Beleth accidentally slips up about the dare

Oh?

Now that is something different

Prepare to start dreaming about him every night

That'll eventually make you come back...

And if not, don't worry...

Belphie's ability can bring you back anytime, so enjoy your time away from him before he decides this little game is over

    ༺☆༻

Keeping away from Asmo is honestly your day-to-day task, so I don't think there's much difference

That is until you realize that it's time for another annual king meeting

The real challenge becomes coming up with a good reason to excuse yourself from it

And all the nobles are helping you at this point

Sure, you could just not go, but Asmo might then leave the meeting to come and see you since he was so excited to meet you after so long

In the end Leviathan coems to save the day and hides you inside his coffin for as long as the need be

Phew

You're safe for another year

    ༺☆༻

To Lucifer, not seeing you for a long time is a good thing

It just means you're healthy and safe

But he does eventually start to miss you

And then Gamigin talks a bit too much and mentions that you've been avoiding Paradise Lost because of a dare

So whenever you need medical assistance one of the nobles has to do a house call

...

A house call?

That sounds unsanitary

Who even knows what germs and bacteria you might catch

Lucifer better make his way over to you for a surprise visit to make sure you're doing well

And no apples can save you from this doctor

[lucentloo]

Gift Giving

Summary: Spencer and reader share the love language of gift giving, however, Spencer seems to get reader gifts that she feels like she shouldn’t have since she can’t afford the same for him. 

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Wc: 1740

Content Warnings: Female reader, somewhat poor reader, not feeling good enough, gift giving love language for both Spencer and reader, no y/n, first fic ever, there might be swearing but I doubt it, season 6/7 Spencer, reader works in a restaurant, that should be all (If I’ve missed any please tell me)

a/n: I'm sorry if this sucks really bad but it's my first time writing and I thought I'd give it a try, thank you for reading and if you have any tips for me to get any better please share, have a nice day/night!

You’re staring at the small box on your counter as you hold the phone to your ear waiting for Spencer to pick up. The case he's working on is a crazy one though so you don't have much hope. You wait a few more seconds before giving up and stopping the call. The box on the counter is black with a pristine white ribbon tied and a bow on top. This is the third gift this month from your boyfriend and he doesn’t even have a reason.

You chew your lip as your eyes narrow at the box as if your glare could make it disappear from your kitchen. But alas, it stays exactly where it is. 

You don't hate the gifts, in fact gift giving is one of your love languages, you just feel so guilty that you can’t give Spencer anything back. You’ve tried to buy him something nice one time but that left you without food for a week and you couldn’t do that again without starving yourself. 

With a sigh you grab the box with the silver necklace and make your way to your bedroom to get ready for bed. After you shower and get into your pajamas (Spencer's hoodie and fuzzy socks) you climb into bed and contemplate what to do.

Ever since you were little you were always the kid with the worst birthday present at parties, or you were never the wished upon secret santa at christmas. You don’t have enough money to lavish your love on Spencer like you wish you did. It made you feel bad whenever you got something knowing you couldn’t get him anything like it in return.

You turn on your side and try to push away that persistent feeling that you’re not doing enough, that Spencer deserves someone who can afford to love him. Eventually you grow too tired to think anymore and slip your eyes shut. Sleep comes easier than it should that night and you’re only woken by your alarm early in the morning.

Spencer was worried.

He usually feels at ease with you and knows he can trust you to take care of yourself when he’s gone. However, this week you’ve barely seen him let alone your own bed. Anytime Spencer calls to hang out or take you out on a date he’s interrupted by a, “sorry handsome I’ve picked up the night shift,” or, “I’m filling in for Sandy since she’s out for the day, sorry baby,” and he can’t seem to find a time, day or night, that you’re available.

So he comes up with the only solution. He’s going to your work to forcefully pull you away from your job and take you to his apartment. When he gets there he’s surprised to see that the restaurant is quiet and not bustling like usual. He only spots two people eating at a table and one server walking around. That server isn’t you.

Spencer walks up to the server, Kate, and asks if you’re on break.

Kate looks at Spencer in surprise. “Um no, she left a few minutes ago to go home. The boss made her, apparently she’s been here for, like, three days straight.” she says the last part in a whisper like she’s gossiping to her friend in her high school cafeteria.

Spencer nods and whispers a quick “Thank you” before going back out to the parking lot. He knew he saw your car when he drove in here and decides to check the employees parking, just for reassurance.

Sure enough when he got there he saw your car parked right in front of the back entrance. The car was on and it looked like it was ready to go at any minute. Spencer furrowed his brows as he got closer and looked through your window. There you were, in your car with your uniform still on, sleeping like a baby.

Spencer smiled despite his concern, admiring your peaceful state in the quiet of the night. He doesn’t want to wake you from your sleep knowing it’s probably the most you’ve gotten all week but he needs to make sure you’re okay. 

Spencer knocks on your window and gives a slight chuckle when you jump up in shock. He smiles awkwardly and gives a little wave as you look at him with hard eyes that turn soft when you realize who it is. You unlock the door and step out with a stretch. You yawn before slumping against Spencer.

“Hey baby, why are you sleeping in your car?” Spencer asks softly. He’s trying not to wake you up too much as he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you upright. His heartbeat soothes you enough to let you stay in the drowsy state you find yourself in. Spencer feels you lean more weight on him as your arms encircle his slender form.

“Got off work and felt too tired to drive home.” It was hard to understand you since your face was pressed against Spencer's chest but he heard you well enough to look down at you in concern. He held onto you tighter as he sighed before bending down to pick you up. 

“Let’s get you home sweet girl,” Spencer whispers into your ear as you shut your eyes again and fall back asleep. 

When you wake up the next morning the first thing you register is Spencer's arms around your torso and his breaths blowing down your neck. You groan and shield your eyes from the sun that shines through the curtain and turn your body until you’re cuddled up into Spencer's hold. Your face is pushed into his chest to better hide yourself from the light. 

Spencer shifts slightly and you feel his hand start rubbing up and down the expense of your back. You take a breath in and you’re immediately comforted by the familiar smell of Spencer. He somehow still smells like coffee despite just waking up and he’s got the lingering smell of his cologne that he wore the night before.

 You pull back slowly to look into at him with a small smile before recognition flashes through your eyes. “I’m not at work,” you whisper to Spencer, “I had an early shift today, Spence, baby, I need to be at work.” You try to untangle yourself from Spencer’s tight hold on you but don’t succeed. “Spencer, I'm not joking. I need to leave.”

Spencer shakes his head. “No.”

You look at him, not amused. “No?”

Spencer shakes his head again as his arms hold you impossibly tighter. “No.”

You sigh and stop struggling. Finally looking into his eyes you see the confusion and concern that’s directed at you. And damn does that make you feel guilty. The little seed that was planted at the beginning of the week just keeps growing and growing.

Spencer seems to sense the conflict you feel and kisses the top of your head. “I need you to take a break and tell me what’s going on. You’ve been distant and short with me, and I miss you, I want to see you.” Spencer whispers the confession in the silent room and it makes you tear up a little.

Your head lowers as you try to hide yourself under his blanket. The embarrassment floods through you as guilt eats your inside whole. “I’m sorry,” is all you can manage to say to him. 

Spencer hums in acknowledgment before sitting up and bringing you with him. He sits you on his lap so you’re facing him and he lifts your chin so he can peer into your eyes. “Baby, there’s no need to say sorry, just tell me what's going on in that head of yours, hm?” 

You take a shaky breath in before slowly letting it out to keep your tears at bay. The attempt seems futile though as you can’t seem to hold it together. “I can’t get you anything nice.” You say in a whimper as small sobs escape your lips and you hide your face in his neck.

Spencer’s lips turn down in concern as he thinks about what you just said. His thumb draws small circles on your waist as he contemplates how to go about this. “What do you mean sweetie? You give me nice things all the time.” Spencer tries to point out the things you’ve given him in the past - cookies, a new tie, the pen he uses every day - but it just makes you feel even worse. Those are things that shouldn’t even be considered gifts, let alone nice ones.

“No, n-no, you always get me these necklaces and, and books, and things that I could never afford.” Your sobs interrupt your speech slightly but It doesn’t deter you. “I just want to repay you, give you something nice for a, a change but instead I wo-worry you.” You burst into tears again as you squeeze Spencer tighter.

“Woah, woah, okay, hey, it’s okay. Baby I don’t need those kinds of gifts, I just need you. Is that why you were overworking yourself?” Spencer asks in a worried tone. His lips find the top of your head again as you nod your head against his neck. You hear him sigh before pulling back slightly. You raise your head to look at him and he wipes your tears away when he cups your cheek.

“Your health and happiness come way before an object I don’t even need.” He says in a stern yet soft voice. You lower your head to hide your face but he moves his head as well to keep eye contact. “Hey, I’m being serious, I don’t want you to work yourself crazy just to afford a gift. You’re way too important to me.” Spencer whispers the last part before giving you a soft kiss. 

You sigh after the kiss and look up at Spencer. “But that’s how I show my love, I don’t see you a lot so I like to give you gifts.” Spencer smiles as his thumb strokes your cheek.

“So keep giving me cookies and pens, they really do make my day.” Spencer goes in for another kiss that has you smiling more than you have in days. 

“Okay,” You whisper against his mouth.

Spencer kisses your cheek, then nose, then your other cheek, then your eyebrows, he does this until you’re a giggling mess. “I love you so much.” He finally says as he kisses your lips again.

“I love you too.”

[sky-is-the-limit]

How Task Force 141 would react to you breaking up with them because of their job:

Captain Price:

He’d take the news like a hit to the chest even though he’d nod as if he’d already accepted it.

The words would catch in his throat but he’d steady himself, holding onto every last thread of composure as he listened, eyes cast down on the space between you.

''I can’t blame you.'' He'd murmur, forcing a small, understanding smile. ''Not for this.''

The sadness in his blue eyes would betray him, though, no amount of practice could keep that pain out.

''Just… if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.'' His hand would linger beside yours, close but never quite reaching.

As you walked away, he wouldn’t move, not for a long while.

He would sit in the dark later that night, staring at the door, almost waiting for you to come back but deep down, he knew you wouldn’t.

Later, when he finally got into bed, he’d let the thought of you be his last and the memory of your smile his only comfort. He’d never say it aloud but part of him was already thinking about retiring.

Maybe this was it, a sign to leave it all behind, to make this mission his last and if he made it back? He’d come straight to your door, ready to give it one more try, no matter how slim the chance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

When you told him, his face would twist with disbelief, hurt, anger all colliding into a storm he couldn’t contain.

''You knew who I was..'' He’d say, his hands running through his hair as if trying to release the frustration building inside him.

"So why now? Now when I can’t fucking imagine my life without you?"

He’d demand answers, his voice rising with each one and the hurt too raw to mask, searching your eyes like he could find a reason that made it hurt less.

In the end, when he saw the finality in your face, something inside him would deflate to leave only silence as he drove you home, his grip on the wheel seeming like it hurts and the weight of each passing second sinking deep into his bones like bullets. If not worse.

That night, he’d take out his anger on the punching bag, knuckles bruising until the pain became a welcome numbness.

After every mission, though, he’d still reach for his phone, typing anyway. 'Home safe.' It was always the same and you wouldn’t respond.

Days would pass but he’d still text, still send pictures of things he found that reminded him of you. Small things. Little pieces of you that he couldn’t let go of. He’d call, just to hear your voice even though he knew you weren’t going to pick up.

At night, in the quiet of his apartment, he’d let himself sink into the scent of you that still lingered in his sheets, imagining what it would be like to have you back even if it was just for one night.

John "Soap" MacTavish:

Johnny’s heart would shatter into pieces the moment you said it. He'd try to smile but the effort was weak, failing him completely as his chest tightened.

"I get it, lass." He’d say, eyes full of the pain he tried so hard to hide so you wouldn't feel guilty. "I’d go mad if it was you out there." But that didn’t stop the deep pit of panic from swallowing him whole.

How can he wake up or go to sleep without you?

''I just…'' He’d hesitate, tears threatening to fall. ''I can’t blame you.''

But damn it, he wanted to. He wanted to yell, to scream, to tell you not to leave, that he’d do anything, anything to make it work but he couldn’t. Not like this.

So instead, he’d pull you into his arms, letting himself feel the warmth of your body, the one thing he could hold onto even if it was just for a few more minutes. His lips would find yours, slow and desperate, tasting you like it was the last time.

One kiss would turn into two and another until you both found yourselves in bed, clinging to each other with a desperation that made it feel like the world would shatter and burn when you let go.

By morning, he’d be gone, leaving his cross on the nightstand. The only physical thing he could bear to leave behind.

He’d walk out into the early dawn, each step heavier than the last, knowing he’d left his heart back with you, a piece of himself he’d never get back. Not that he wanted to.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He would expect it. He knew from the start that loving him would only end in pain but even though he saw it coming, nothing prepared him for how it would feel when you finally said the cursed words.

''I always knew it would end like this.'' He’d say, his tone flat but underneath it, there was a world of despair.

He wouldn’t beg nor try to change your mind. He couldn’t, not when he already knew how this story ends. Yet when you asked him to look at you, truly look at you, he’d turn his face and that’s when you’d see the truth in his eyes.

That pain that he’d buried so deep. ''I don’t expect you to wait. I don’t want you to bury me.''

He wouldn’t say anything else after that but you’d feel it in the silence that stretched between you both, that there was so much he wanted to confess to you but wouldn't dare.

He’d drive you to your friend’s place, eyes locked on the road ahead, and when he stopped, he’d glance over, just once and say, ''I’ll pack your things so you don’t have to come back.''

Before you could walk away one last time, his voice would crack just slightly. ''After you… there’s no one else.''

And that would be the last time you’d see him. He’d drive off, the emptiness of his heart trailing behind him and when you were out of sight, he’d finally let the tears fall.

[benispunk]

Lucky Number

logan howlett x reader

Logan wants to know why 12 is Y/N's lucky number. He might be falling in love all over again.

TW: language

Masterlist

\I/

Y/n’s favorite time of the day was the evening. Not because she could finally relax, have some time for herself, enjoy the silence of her room without, most of the time, anyone in the mansion interrupting it… Well, maybe yes, it was that. But that’s not the point. 

Y/n’s favorite time of the day was the evening because she could finally spend time with Logan outside of the school’s routine, out of everyone's eye sights, just the two of them against the world.

And this evening wasn’t any different. She absolutely adored those moments with him as he looked and sounded so relaxed, and she felt as if she was falling more and more in love with him every single time.

She had bought a bottle wine and some appetizers that she had hidden in the kitchen all day, just for their special night, and Logan would do the same. Even though their relationship was official to everyone in the mansion, they always felt the need to sneak into each other’s rooms like teenagers in love.

One time, Logan was discreetly walking towards her door with two glasses in hand and his bottle of whiskey under his arm when he heard someone cough at the end of the corridor. He turned around, startled. Scott had been standing there, probably waiting to catch one of the two lovers and embarrass them. Logan stood there, saying nothing before flipping him off and entering Y/N’s room. 

She sat curled up on her bed, a glass of red wine in hand, as she lazily picked at a plate of cheese and crackers between sips. Logan sat next to her, leaning against the headboard, holding his own glass of whiskey, his eyes glinting with amusement. He could stay there for days, listening to her talk, laugh, watching her smile. Anything that had to do with her, he needed to be there. 

They had been playing a ridiculous card game for the last 20 minutes where you had to pick a number between one and twenty and then pick two cards, the closest to their number wins.

They were laughing again when Logan leaned forward with another challenge, his grin cocky. “Alright, one more time.”

Y/N smiled wide and quickly answered, “Twelve!”

Logan narrowed his eyes at her this time, his smirk softening into something more curious. “Again with twelve?” he asked, amused. “That’s the third time tonight you’ve picked twelve.”

Y/N blinked. “No, it’s not,” she said, a little too defensively, taking a bigger sip of wine. Maybe she should slow down with the drinking part.

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Yeah, it is. You even won with that number.” He gave her a knowing look. “And now this. You pickin' twelve on purpose or somethin’? Are you cheating?”

She gasped at the accusation, « How dare you accuse me of such a crime? A girl can’t have a lucky number anymore. » She sipped some more wine dramatically, which made Logan laugh. How much she loved that sound.

Logan’s grin widened as he leaned in a bit closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Lucky number, huh? What makes twelve so special?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and swirling the whiskey in his glass.

Y/N felt her breath catch slightly, the warmth from the wine making her feel just a bit too relaxed. She hadn’t even realized she'd been picking twelve that much. It just... came out. It was her lucky number indeed. And now, Logan was asking about it. Oh no.

She gave a casual shrug, trying to play it off. "Oh, you know… twelve’s just... a good number. Balanced. You know, 1 plus 2 equals 3, and… uh, three’s cool."

Logan tilted his head, staring at her with an amused expression that said he wasn’t buying a word of it. « Then why not pick three? »

She could feel the heat rising to her face even more. He was too perceptive. She tried to shrug again, but it came off awkward. « I—I don’t know! Twelve just feels… lucky, I guess."

But Logan wasn’t letting it go. Of coure, he wasn’t. He leaned in even closer, his voice a low tease. "You’re hiding something." His tone was playful, but his eyes held a tenderness that made her feel even more flustered. "Why twelve, darlin’?"

Y/N's heart raced as she realized there was no escaping the truth. She hadn’t even thought about it consciously until now, but of course, twelve was special. It was his birthday— October 12. And the more she thought about it, the more it embarrassed her. It felt too sweet, too sentimental to admit out loud, but Logan's gaze was gentle, and she knew he wouldn't let up until she told him.

She cleared her throat and bit her lip, looking anywhere but at him. "It's... It’s your birthday. » she finally mumbled, barely above a whisper, still trying to avoid his eyes. "October 12. That’s why it’s... my lucky number."

There was a pause— a silence that stretched just long enough for her to regret saying it, but when she glance up at Logan, she saw something different in his expression. His face softened, his eyes widening just a bit before something warm and quiet settled in them. For a second, he seemed speechless, which rarely happened with Logan.

« My birthday?" he asked, his voice softer than before, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

Y/N nodded, feeling vulnerable and a little embarrassed. « Yes. I’m sorry this is so embarrass— » 

“Put your glass down,” he said firmly, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“What?” she asked, confusion clouding her expression.

Without missing a beat, Logan took her glass from her hand and placed it gently on the nightstand beside his own. Just as she opened her mouth to protest, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a tender kiss.

Time seemed to pause as they melted into each other, the warmth of the moment enveloping them. Every worry, every ounce of embarrassment faded away as Y/N felt herself sink deeper into the kiss, the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his lips mixing with the sweetness of the wine on hers.

Her lucky number was his birthday. How fucking wonderful. What did he even do to deserve that? To deserve her. His grip on her tightened slightly, pulling her closer as if he wanted to fuse their bodies together, to ensure that nothing could ever come between them. How lucky he was.

When they finally broke away, he held her gaze with a softness that made her heart race. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

The moment hung between them. Y/N could see the sincerity in his gaze, the way he was allowing himself to be vulnerable. Her heart ached with love. But he wasn’t done.

His hand cradled her face, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. “You keep doin’ this—showin’ me how much I mean to you… » He paused, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, « I’m falling for you all over again,” he confessed, his voice low and raw. 

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, a smile breaking through her earlier embarrassment. « See why twelve’s my lucky number? »

Logan laughed softly, a glint of mischief in his eyes, before he suddenly lunged forward, pinning her down onto the bed. Y/N squealed in surprise, laughter bubbling up as he captured her lips in a quick kiss. The warmth of his body over hers ignited sparks of electricity that left her breathless.

As they broke apart, he held her gaze, his eyes gleaming with adoration. The warmth between them crackled with unspoken affection, and Y/N felt her heart swell. If he was her lucky charm, she was his too.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, their foreheads touching as they breathed each other in. Logan leaned in for another kiss, this one deeper and more lingering, their lips brushing together softly. The moment was pure magic. 

Y/N felt happiness enveloping her, knowing that luck wasn’t just about numbers; it was about sharing her life with him.

XXX

[softiejoon]

CLOSE TO YOU | KSM

pairing ; kim seungmin x reader

genre ; hurt/comfort, fluff + mild angst

tags ; idol!skz, established relationship!au

warnings ; mentions of food, lots of emotions, affectionate use of ‘pabo’

summary ; in which seungmin misses you so you surprise him with a visit OR seungmin can’t stand not being close to you

word count ; ~1.2k

a/n ; my first piece in a while! not sure i love how it turned out but hope you enjoy <3

☾ ･*˚⁺‧͙ :-゜・．

minho's gaze softens at the sight of the boy slumped against the sofa. seungmin fiddles with something in his pocket as he stares blankly at the walls of their rented vacation home.

"yah, kim seungmin." his voice is gentler than usual. seungmin drags his eyes up to meet his hyung's. "i have something for you."

minho moves to the front door as seungmin sighs, summoning his remaining energy to protest whatever stunt the members are orchestrating.

"hyung, i'm tired, i don't—" but his brain and mouth lose function when you walk through the door.

"hi puppy," you whisper.

seungmin blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. has he missed you so much he's hallucinating?

"surprise~" minho sings, shaking seungmin back to the present.

hyunjin and jeongin emerge from the adjacent rooms, grinning ear to ear, but seungmin doesn't notice. his gaze is fixed on you.

"y/n?" it feels like so long since he last spoke your name, though he whispered it to himself every night since he left for tour. he stands up, inching towards you.

"yes," you laugh softly. "it's me."

you step forward, taking ahold of seungmin's hand. a wave of relief shoots through him at the reality of your touch.

he grapples with a coherent sentence. "how...? i—what are you doing here?"

"couldn't let you have all the fun now, could i?" you turn to smile at his roommates, whose presence finally registers for seungmin.

"you were so quiet. quieter than usual," hyunjin explains. "we could tell you weren't going to enjoy the trip. so we talked to chan hyung and he arranged it with the company."

seungmin blinks, the tears in his eyes hot and resistant, and minho doesn't miss the gratitude in his gaze as he ushers the other boys towards the door.

"anyway, we're going to dinner now. let's talk later."

"you can join us tomorrow, hyung." jeongin sends him a wave.

with cheeky smiles, they grab their coats and disappear out into the evening, leaving you both alone in the house.

☾ ･*˚⁺‧͙ :-゜・．

"you're here," he says quietly, as if still unsure.

"i am," you affirm. dropping your bag, you do what you've longed to since you last said goodbye at the airport.

he feels something within himself collapse at the sensation of your arms around him, burying his head into the side of your neck.

the relief escapes him in muffled sobs, soft gasps that prick your heart and eyes, threatening to push you to the same.

"it's okay, puppy." you struggle to keep the waver from your voice. "i missed you too. so, so much."

you feel seungmin nod, tightening his arms around you – afraid to let go, to not be close to you.

you brush a hand through his hair, sweeping the bangs aside so you can glimpse his face. he looks back at you with red-rimmed eyes, full of fear and love.

you can't help but let a tear slip. "i'm not going anywhere."

.・゜-: ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　✧　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ :-゜・．

after your shower, you wander into the kitchen to find seungmin standing over the stove, stirring the contents of the pan.

"hey." you wrap your arms around him from behind. "you didn't have to cook."

seungmin shakes his head. "it's nothing fancy. we had the leftovers for kimchi fried rice."

you take in the scent of the food. "smells good."

after a beat, you pull away to help him dish it up and set the plates on the table.

it's a quiet, intimate dinner, just the two of you; you hardly speak, holding hands across the table as you eat, drinking in each other's presence. you smile at seungmin, rubbing your thumb over his knuckle, and give his hand a soft squeeze.

he's the first one to break the comforting silence. "i don't want you to leave."

you give him a soft smile. "don't worry, i only just got here."

seungmin shakes his head, expression solemn. "no...i meant ever."

your heart caves a little at that, and you try to suppress the lovesick look on your face. "so don't let me."

suddenly, seungmin retracts his hand from yours and stands up. at a loss, you follow, reaching for his arm.

"seung—?"

your call of his name falls short as he turns toward you and brings you close by your elbows. you can't place the look in his eyes and your heart stammers in confusion.

"y/n." the intensity in his gaze only amplifies the fear-studded rhythm of your heart. "i was being serious."

"min–?"

"i realised today just how lost i feel when you're not with me. i'd always been fine on my own, but now i constantly catch myself missing something – missing you – and it scares me so much."

you're scaring me, you want to say, but all you can do is stand there, eyes locked to his, as you attempt to tame the tremor creeping into your hands.

"i don't think i can take being apart anymore," seungmin finally says. he lets go of you and your heart drops. before your body can decide whether to laugh or cry in shock, seungmin falls to one knee.

"y/n, this isn't how i planned to ask you, but you're right – i won't let you go.

"the thought of losing you scares me because you are my best friend, my comfort, my home. please stay by my side forever...the only eternity i want to believe in is one with you."

you feel faint, and the decision your body tried to make earlier turns out to be a combination of the two.

tears are slipping down your face as seungmin asks, "will you marry me?"

somewhere amid the free flow of your emotions, you remember to nod, and seungmin engulfs you in a tight embrace. you are crying in the crook of his neck and he is whispering reassurances you can barely make out. when you manage to stop yourself from shaking, you pull back just enough to thump him on the chest.

"yah, kim seungmin!" you hiccup. "why'd you scare me like that?"

his eyes are watery too, but from a joyful overwhelm. he smiles his infuriatingly endearing puppy smile, teeth and all. "what do you mean?"

you give him one more thump for good measure and he laughs, then so do you. "i thought you were going to break up with me."

he laughs again, this time more akin to the menace you are used to. "what? you pabo." he knocks his forehead to yours gently.

"you're the pabo here," you murmur, keeping your foreheads pressed together.

"sorry if i scared you...i guess i was just nervous." his tone is soft, thoughtful. "i meant what i said, i don't ever want to lose you. and i know this isn't perfect but—"

"it is." you lean in and brush his lips with your words. "i love you, kim seungmin. i want nothing more than to spend forever with you."

he kisses you deeply, slipping in an 'i love you' and the ring from his pocket onto your finger.

you and the boys would have a lot to talk about once they returned from dinner.

~

© softiejoon | send me feedback | support me here

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

yunho x gn reader + yeosang x gn reader (separated)

part 2 to ateez stuck in the friendzone! read that part so this makes sense

tw: fluff fluff fluff + alcohol, being drunk and jealousy in yeosang’s (+ possible mistakes since english is not my first language)

a/n: this was supposed to be posted last night but i kinda forgot oopsie

masterlist

YUNHO

another week, another game night at yunho’s place. the only difference is that this time yeosang was there, along with wooyoung and san who invited themselves over. at first, yunho mentally groaned, really looking forward to spend time with you, alone. but then it became bearable, since you decided to stick to his side as you cheered for him while he played against yeosang in mortal kombat. a tough challenge indeed, since both are insane players with a huge armery of combat combinations and special techniques.

wooyoung and san were sitting on the floor and were being as loud as ever, cheering and gasping at the bloody animations. meanwhile, you sat next to yunho, arm wrapped behind his back as you played with his ear. this was really distracting him from the game, since your body was pressing against his side while your soft touches caressed his ear and side of his face. every time you laughed at something wooyoung and san did or say, he would get hit by yeosang’s character due to him losing his focus. how could he though? when your face was so close to his and your laugh was like music to his ears?

despite his lack of attention to the game, yunho’s face remained serious and unreadable. for anyone else in the room, he was getting in a competitive mood. yet, you knew better.

“you okay, baby?” you asked, after he lost the first round. he quickly glanced at you, before returning to face the tv humming and nodding. “just a little distracted, that’s all” he said, quickly pressing on the different buttons on the controller. just in case, you decided to retrieve your hand, maybe the reason why he was distracted was because your touches tickled him. he shot you a quick look almost immediately, not actually wanting you to stop. “don’t stop, keep doing that” he ordered, eyes back on the tv. you chuckled “okay baby”.

unbeknownst to you and yunho, wooyoung and san saw the whole interaction, while yeosang quickly glanced at you as well. they all knew how yunho felt about you, since they’ve been friends and roomates (in yeosang’s case) for a long while now. they noticed the way he would look at you, and how he would light up every time he spot you. they also noticed the way he would always accommodate his schedules to fit yours for game night, no matter the time or place. if they were on tour? no problem, a small online card game becomes a good and entertaining alternative if you weren’t feeling like playing league of legends. they found the whole situation endearing, and, without yunho’s knowledge, they had a bet going on about when he would confess.

“did you just call him baby?” san asked, smirking. yunho immediately shot him a warning glance, the last thing he wanted was for you to stop using the nickname due to their teasing. “you know y/n, some words have heavy meanings” wooyoung added, mischief evident on his face. you rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out “are you jealous woo?” you asked, momentarily stopping your touches on yunho’s skin as he simultaneously sighed. “i’m just saying, i don’t call everyone baby” he said in response.

you remained quiet, staring at the tv as the characters still hit each other. yunho, on the other hand, started panicking. what were you thinking? how you were feeling about what wooyoung said? “i like the nickname” he admitted suddenly after a few minutes of silence, except for the aggressive taps on the controller’s buttons. your head turned to him, and he quickly interlocked his eyes with yours, sending you silent but comfortable words in support. somehow, you understood what he said with his eyes: “i don’t mind”. you smiled in return.

“oh i know you like the nickname” wooyoung said, before getting a kick on his back by yeosang’s leg. “don’t distract the player wooyoung! i don’t want to win due to distractions” he scolded, earning ‘oooh’s from san. “he sucks anyway!” wooyoung exclaimed, getting another two kicks, but this time from yunho and you. “ow” he complained, earning a laugh from the dimply man beside him.

after a while, yunho won the second round. “wooyoung distract him again, i take it back” yeosang said, laughing ad the third and last round started. “that’s unfair!” you complained in defense of your best friend. “you heard them” yunho said, still focused on the game.

“how cute of you you to defend your boyfriend” wooyoung teased. yunho felt his blood run cold and visibly tensed, shooting you a look to check your reaction. but instead of feeling awkward like yunho imagined you to be, you started kicking wooyoung with a pillow while exclaiming “you’re being soooo insufferable today!”.

———

yeosang won the fight, ending it at 2-1 and with a pouty yunho in consequence. san exclaimed it was his turn to play against yeosang, so yunho gave him his place as he said he was going to get more drinks from the kitchen. you looked at him disappearing behind the door and sighed. “go help him out y/n” san said. “we all know how he gets when he loses at something”. you nodded in response, standing up from your place and ignoring the way wooyoung said “we are so going to win this bet” as you exited the room.

you found yunho in the kitchen scrolling mindlessly through social media with a beer bottle on his other hand, casually sipping it. he was also leaning against the counter, and you could not deny it: it was definitely a pretty sight.

“are you okay yun?” you asked, taking the bottle from him and sipping it. he chose to ignore the thought of an indirect kiss. instead, he hummed in response, blocking his phone and setting it aside. you kind of stood there, feeling a bit awkward, not really knowing what to say. “i’m sorry if wooyoung’s comment made you uncomfortable” he said, looking out to the window, avoiding your eyes. you stared, confusion evident on your face. “it’s fine, it didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything”.

“one thing though-“ he started saying, bringing back his gaze to you as he stood up straight. “he was right about one thing”. you left the bottle on the kitchen counter next to him, asking what he meant by that. “words do have strong meanings sometimes”

“i want to know what that nickname means to you” he finished, holding your hand in his. you bit your lip, trying to find the words to translate your thoughts, but weren’t able to say anything in response. yunho pulled you closer to him, now leaning on the counter again as you stood in between his legs. “i don’t know, but you’re the only one i call baby” you whispered, looking down, suddenly feeling ashamed of your boldness. he chuckled in response, lifting up your chin to look at him. his face was close to yours, like never before. “i’m glad to hear that y/n, but i still want you to tell me the meaning”

“i don’t know yun” you said, unable to think with his face so close to yours. “you can’t find the words to describe it?” he asked, finger tracing patterns on your arm. you shook your head, not trusting your voice. “what about-“ he lifted his hand to your face “telling me through actions?”

you closed your eyes, unconsciously leaning in and pressing your lips against his. his other hand went to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to his body as you kissed him softly, pouring all the love and devotion for your best friend that you didn’t know you hid deep inside you. you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, as you quickly became addicted to the way his lips felt against yours.

after a while, you broke the kiss, pecking him again when he chased your lips. “yun?” you asked. he hummed, before kissing you again. “what does the nickname mean to you?” you asked.

“hope”.

YEOSANG

“hoping they realize how you feel won’t change anything, you know? i think you should just tell them” san told yeosang as he took a sip from his drink. yeosang sat on the opposite side of the table, his own drink long forgotten due to his long debate with himself about whether to tell you his real feelings or not. san, being as perceptive as he is, noticed something was off since that party a week ago, so he invited yeosang to a small new cafe nearby.

yeosang couldn’t stop thinking about it. he didn’t even need to focus hard enough, he could still feel your lips on his, how your scent invaded all of his senses and how addictive the whole moment was. he was sure the kiss lasted longer than intended too, since he faintly remembers the drunk voices of his friends telling each other to “give them space” or “get a room”. it’s like one of those phrases hit you like a bucket of cold water, because you immediately separated yourself from him as an intense blush covered your cheeks. “i’m sorry” you whispered, avoiding his eyes. despite the loud background, he heard you perfectly and shook his head “it’s okay, really”. he noticed your eyes drifting back to his lips and then quickly to his eyes. what if he kissed you a- “still friends right?” you asked, interrupting his thoughts. he couldn’t find the words to answer, so he nodded slightly. stupid he thought to himself.

after that you kept your distance, even on the car ride back home. you successfully got everyone back to their respective homes safe and sound, so yeosang expected to talk about what happened now that everything quieted down. but he was wrong, again. “are you okay?” he asked, stopping at the red light. you hummed in response. he expected you to elaborate or say something, anything, but you didn’t. so he decided to press further: “are you sure?” your eyes drifted from the road to him, and patted his shoulder lightly “yeah yeo, i’m just tired. i forgot how exhausting everyone is while drunk, specially san and wooyoung” you said. he suspected you were lying, but chose to leave it there. maybe you just needed to process everything, like he did the first time you kissed.

after that, you disappeared. well, not actually, but you stopped replying as often as before. reason why he started feeling anxious, what if he fucked up? maybe he should have reassured you more, or maybe he should have just said no to that kiss, or maybe he-

“earth to yeosang” san said, interrupting his thoughts as he waved his hand in front of his friend’s face. yeosang blinked, nodding “sorry, sorry. what were you saying?”

“i was telling you about hongjoong organizing a small gathering for his birthday, it’s gonna be us and very few other people” san told him, before adding: “one of those is y/n, and they confirmed their assistance already”.

his friend leaned back, smirking at yeosang’s widened eyes. “if i were you i would start thinking of what to say to them”, san said, finishing his drink.

yeosang had a lot to think about indeed.

———

yeosang is a coward, that’s what he is. you stood right next to him, as you always are, yet he couldn’t manage to say the words he has been aching to say. so, he decided to take drastic measures: he decided to drink enough to get courage and drag you out to an empty room in order to confront you.

one shot.

two shots.

three shots.

he lost count after that, mind already going hazy. yeosang looked at you, it seemed like you were also in a similar state, since you giggled at anything and muttered incomprehensible words. his eyes drifted to your lips, plump as he remembered. do they still taste the same as in his memory?

suddenly, he felt a small push from behind him, making him almost spill his drink. “go, tell them” san said, appearing in his field of vision as he patted his shoulder blades. “tell what to who?” you interrupted, smiling widely. yep, clearly drunk as well. yeosang shook his head, before sipping his drink “nothing, don’t worry”.

stupid he thought, once again.

———

“who’s that guy?” yeosang asked hongjoong, pointing to a tall man that was talking to you on the opposite side of the room. you seemed interested in whatever he was saying, which made yeosang’s blood boil.

hongjoong smirked “that’s my brother’s best friend, he’s cool”. yeosang huffed in annoyance, muttering a low “he needs to ‘cool’ off and get away from y/n”. his captain heard it though, deciding to entertain himself for a bit. “he asked me to introduce them to him” hongjoong told yeosang, who quickly turned his head to him with wide eyes. “why?!” he exclaimed. “because he’s interested? yeosangie you’re usually good at reading the room”

his eyes turned back to you. wait, did you two get closer in distance? he watched as that man (yes, he refused to acknowledge him by name, despite hongjoong telling him twice) started playing with the ends of your hair. something he, yeosang, did.

he had enough.

he finished the remains of his drink and tipsily, but surely, walked towards you, who stared at him questioningly once you noticed him. you didn’t even have time to ask him what’s going on, before he grabbed your hand and led you to one of the empty rooms.

“yeosang! i was in the middle of a conversation back there” you exclaimed, confusion all over your face as he shut the door behind him. “why are you talking to him when you should be talking to me?” he asked, facing you.

“i’ve been right next to you the whole night” you said, crossing your arms against your chest. “not the way i want you to” yeosang answered, getting closer. “tell me, is he more interesting than me?”

you shook your head no “of course not”. “then is he more handsome than me?” he asked, stepping closer and making your cheeks flush. “would he kiss you the way i do?” he asked, leaning closer to your face.

you stared into his eyes, despite the obvious drunkness, they remained as gentle as ever. “tell me” he begged, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. he needed to hear it, even if it’s a lie. “n-no” you managed to say, uncrossing your arms as you set your hands on his chest. yeosang opened his eyes, staring at your lips as if he was silently asking for permission. like you could read his mind, you nodded slowly.

so he crashed his lips against yours for a third time, but now it was desperate, hungry. he needed to feel you, taste you, as he pretended you were finally his. he pressed you against the wall while his hands found their way to your lower back, making you slightly arch your back, pressing your front to his body. to his surprise, you kissed back with the same hunger, biting his lip and sliding your tongue on his mouth when he gasped in surprise. he could still feel your favorite drink in your mouth, and he wondered if you could taste his own. he felt intoxicated, addicted to the way your mouth moved against his.

“best friends don’t do this yeo” you managed to say suddenly, in between kisses and small gasps. yeosang hummed in response against your lips, before biting on your lower one “we haven’t been just friends since that first kiss, my love” he muttered, making you smile without separating yourself from him. “i like the sound of that” you said, breaking the kiss but pecking his lips sweetly. “what?” he asked, pecking you back. “you calling me your love”

he chuckled, before lifting his left hand and cupping your cheek. he stared deeply into your eyes with so much devotion, making you suddenly realize that it’s the same gaze as always. gentle, sweet, loving. a look that was only reserved for you, and you only. “that’s because you are, my love” he said, smiling.

you couldn’t help but kiss him again, and again, and again. you felt so loved and cherished. how could you have been so blind?

“y/n” he said suddenly, breaking the kiss and making you frown “don’t address me like that” you said, pouting, making yeosang let out a laugh. “already so demanding” he said “my love, we are both drunk right now, probably not enough to forget about this though. but i still want us to talk about it in the morning” he said, holding both of your hands and bringing them to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “i promise” you answered.

once morning had come, already sobered up and fully conscious of your actions, you called yeosang, ready to face your own feelings as you accepted that you are, also, in love with your best friend.

taglist: @yoongles2025

(to be added please let me know)

[shitsndgiggs]

Heyyy

What about something very cutesy where Kenan and reader are on vacation(where he went this summer with his friends) and reader is waiting for Kenan to get ready on their bed to go out for dinner and when he finishes he goes to her and they kiss etc and Kenan doesn’t want to leave anymore but the reader obliges him. Little messy I know😔

STAY IN? - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan wants to stay in

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The hotel room was softly lit, the sounds of waves crashing on the beach outside filling the air with a peaceful rhythm.

I was sprawled across the bed, my legs dangling off the edge as I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone.

Kenan had been in the bathroom for what felt like forever, getting ready for our dinner reservations.

I sighed dramatically, calling out to him, “And you say I’m the one who takes forever to get ready? What’re you doing in there, applying a full face of makeup?”

From behind the closed door, I heard him laugh. “Patience, woman. I’m almost done,” he teased back.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. I was honestly just excited to spend a night out with him after our long day exploring the island.

It felt like we were in our own little world here, with no schedules, no responsibilities—just each other.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and Kenan stepped out, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

My eyes traveled over him, taking in the sight of his sun-kissed skin and how ridiculously good he looked in that fitted shirt. He smirked when he caught me staring.

“What? You like what you see?” he asked, his voice a low tease as he crossed the room to me.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You clean up alright, I guess,” I said, though the way my eyes lingered on him gave me away.

Kenan’s smirk widened as he leaned down over me, one hand resting on the mattress beside my head. “Just alright?” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Yeah,” I teased, my heart skipping a beat as he brought his lips closer to mine. “But you really took your time in there.”

“Maybe I was trying to look good for you,” he said softly, brushing his lips over mine in a quick peck.

I let out a small, satisfied hum, intending to sit up and head to the door, but Kenan had other ideas. He caught my chin between his fingers, tilting my face back toward him.

Another kiss—slower this time, his lips lingering on mine like he was savoring the taste.

I sighed into the kiss, melting under his touch as he deepened it, turning what was supposed to be a quick peck into something that had my toes curling.

The kisses came one after another, each one slower, more drawn out than the last. Kenan’s hands slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him as he tilted his head, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss that left me breathless.

It was the kind of kiss that made the world outside fade away, the kind that made me forget about dinner reservations and everything else.

“Mmm,” Kenan hummed against my mouth, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. “Maybe we should just stay in tonight…” He mumbled the words between kisses, his voice husky and warm.

I let out a breathless laugh, pushing lightly at his chest even as I felt myself giving in to the way his fingers traced circles against my skin. “Kenan,” I protested weakly, but he only kissed me again, his lips finding that spot just below my ear that made my knees go weak.

“Seriously,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear, “I don’t think I can leave this room now.”

As much as I wanted to just melt into his embrace and forget all about dinner, I knew we’d regret missing it. I placed a hand on his cheek, pulling back just enough to look into his darkened eyes.

“We have a reservation,” I reminded him, though it came out in a breathless whisper.

Kenan groaned dramatically, leaning his forehead against mine. “Who cares about food when I’ve got you right here?”

I laughed, gently detangling myself from his hold and stepping back. “We can come back here after dinner,” I promised, giving him a cheeky grin. “But first, we eat.”

He gave me that adorable pout, but there was a glint in his eyes that told me he wasn’t giving up that easily. “Fine,” he sighed, grabbing my hand as I started toward the door. “But you owe me dessert when we get back.”

“That can be arranged,” I said, my heart fluttering at the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

[6toru]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄.

synopsis. gaining the title ‘duke’ not only came with the prestige, but came along the lonely days you spent yearning for your husband as he toggled the new duties and responsibilities he had to face. it was only a matter of time before you decided that you could only have so much patience, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt if you played around a little – watching as your husband who held himself in great temperance and sangfroid fall into pieces the more you attempt to break his composure.

pairing. nanami kento x fem!reader genre. dukedom & arranged marriage au + smut cw. mature content (mdni), breeding kink, rough sex , explicit language + dirty talk

word count. 4.2k

author's note. hehe a repost from an old writing blog of mine ! def one of my favourite pieces + something about someone who's usually so poised losing control of themselves... feral is what i am 😩

NANAMI KENTO, no doubt, was a powerful young man who earned himself the title Duke from the royal king after his contribution and victory in the most recent war. Of course, now that he was given the new title, he was given a whole lot of responsibilities and duties that he’s got to fulfill now that he had plenty more people to protect. Nowadays, the young duke would either be found training his lot of knights, hunting, or cooped up in his grand office busying himself with myriads of documents. Despite being incredibly proud of his achievements, you still couldn’t help but yearn for the affection of your beloved husband.

 Many nights were spent alone, staring up at the tall dark ceiling while you silently counted sheep – hoping that once you had reached a hundred, he would arrive and join you in bed (he’d often fall asleep on the sofa in his office). And, many nights were spent with you fending for yourself when you longed for his touch, arching your back when you’d climax on your fingers – however, you never felt fully satisfied. Your fingers could never compare to his larger and thicker fingers, nor his… 

You shake your head rapidly, feeling your cheeks growing redder by the lewd thoughts of your husband swimming through your mind. The last time you had intercourse with the male was when you both consummated the marriage, which was almost half a year ago, and then a month after that, the war happened – and two months later, he’d come back with a new title, Duke. Everything else after that was a blur. He was just within your reach — residing in the same manor and all, could almost reach for him but always got farther and farther away. You miss your husband, desperately. 

You stroll through the hallways of the manor, taking small strides towards the familiar giant door with a board of your freshly baked bread balanced in your hands. You continue to hum a gentle tune as you got closer and closer to the door. Although, it may appear to other people that his wife was innocently barging into his office thus surprising him with baked goods made with love – However, unknowingly for them, you had other plans hidden up your sleeves.

“Kento,” your voice gentle as you call out his name, “I brought you something that I think you’d love!”

You open the door further, revealing your husband — as per usual — busying himself with his documents. Fatigue was plastered all across his face, though he tried his best to mask it, but the dark circles underneath his hazel eyes were of no help. You could tell that even his muscles had gotten sore from training and staying seated for long periods of time. You placed the bread tray in front of him, and you walked around the desk to stand next to your husband. 

“Thank you, honey,” He quickly thanks you, sending you a quick nod of acknowledgement. Your husband was in pure autopilot mode, his hand continuously signing the documents despite him slowly losing focus — desperately trying to keep them open rather than succumbing to slumber.

“You should take a moment to relax, Kento.” You say. Just as he is about to come up with some type of excuse as to why he shouldn’t take a break, you lean in closer to his ear. “Let me help you.”

Your hands travel up to his back, and you applied some pressure on his shoulders while you massaged him. Your husband releases a low groan when you apply even more pressure on a stubborn muscle knot on his shoulders. You smile when he relaxes into your touch, closing his eyes while he leaned closer into you as you massaged into his sore muscles until those pesky knots disappeared. “How do you feel now?”

“I feel much better,” Kento sighs, humming pleasantly, “ Thank you for the bread, too. I’ll make sure to finish it while I continue working.”

“Can’t your break be a little longer?” You probe at him, pouting softly. “I missed you.”

A sudden wave of boldness and confidence overtook your consciousness, and you brought yourself down on his lap, your arms snaking around your husband’s muscular shoulders. Kento looks completely taken aback, and you eat that expression up as if it is candy. 

 “Kento,” you begin, “can’t you see that your cute and loving wife misses you?”

You press your lips against his ear, before whispering: “I’ve been thinking about you so much, putting a baby inside of me.”

Slowly, you thrust your hips against his thigh, watching your husband in pure amusement as he attempts to keep his composure; his hand tightening on his pen, knuckles white. Almost immediately, you can feel him hardening underneath you, and you grinned almost immediately. Something about his reaction swelled your heart with pride, knowing that despite being busy you still, somewhat, had an effect on him. Even more, Kento was taken aback, completely speechless (and undeniably turned on) from his wife’s bold ministrations.

 “B-baby inside..?” His voice came out as a dry rasp, his eyes wide .

Before your husband could process anything else, he felt the weight on his lap disappearing, and he quickly stared up to watch you getting ready to leave. You fixed the wrinkles on the hem of your dress, trying to fight back the grin on your face after having just teased your usually stoic husband. He had always appeared so cool and composed, so watching him try so hard to keep his composure undeniably gave you some type of thrill. 

“Y/N?” He called out your name, looking visibly confused. Your eyes traveled down to your husband’s trousers, smiling innocently as you caught sight of the large tent growing between his legs.

“I almost forgot to mention, but the marchioness invited me to her manor for a tea party.” You said, attempting to stifle the giggle bubbling in your throat while your husband appeared flustered. “I won’t be back until tonight.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss on his lips, not before licking his bottom lip as you pull away. You were being far too mean with your husband, but you couldn’t help it — watching him slowly crack beneath your manipulation sent a shock of arousal straight between your legs. “Until then, promise me that you’ll finish the bread and take breaks when you need it, okay?”

Before the man could even muster a single response, you walked out of his office. Only two could play at this game, you thought to yourself as you closed the office door behind you.

Hours had already passed and you finished catching up with the noble ladies, exchanging goodbyes and letters before parting ways. It had truly been a while since you had last caught up with your friends. Nevertheless, the time spent at your friend’s manor was enjoyable, listening to all the spicy gossip while enjoying desserts and tea. 

The ride back home in the carriage is silent — the only sound present were the continuous patters from the horses’ steps. You stare outside the window, quietly watching the manor eventually disappearing as the carriage goes further away in distance. It is already a quarter past nine, perhaps the latest you have ever stayed out, and it is safe to assume that your beloved husband is probably resting on the sofa in his office again. 

You lean your back against the seat, pressing the side of your head against the window as your eyes begin to grow heavy, the distant sounds of the horses’ steps gradually lulling you into a short slumber.

“My lady, we’ve arrived.”

“Oh my, we’re already here?” You ponder to yourself out loud, groggily opening your eyes. You place your hands atop the coachman’s guiding you down the carriage, and you stare at the tall manor before you. Once you enter inside, you are automatically greeted with your maids ushering you to the bathroom with a change of clothes. Undeniably, you felt a little disappointed, as you believe that your husband had unknowingly proved your point from earlier — you, at least, hoped that he’d stay awake a little longer. You sink lower into the tub, blowing bubbles as you scrunch your brows together, the water hiding pouting lips. The maid had left you alone earlier, telling you that she’d return with a towel soon, but it’s been moments.

You glance around the bathroom, trying to decipher the exact location of your nightgown. Ah, it was on the stool, next to the door. If anyone had walked in on you grabbing your nightgown from the stool, the only thing they’d see is your wet and bare body. It shouldn’t be too bad, though —after all, it’s always been your maids coming in. Slowly, you stand up from the large tub, and you immediately shiver from the wave of cold air rushing to you,, cool beads of water dripping down your body. With careful steps, you make  your way across the room, your hand reaching out towards your nightgown. 

You suddenly hear a knock on the door, and you instinctively grab the gown to cover the front of your body. It must be the maid, you think to yourself and you try to mimic that of a stern face — however, you can’t bring yourself to be too harsh on a new maid, after all. You watch the door open slowly, and you tap your fingers against your elbows. “Hana, where were you all this… Oh.”

Almost immediately, your face is sent aflame and you scurry away from the door, your failed attempt of a stern persona pathetically crumbling away as the space revealed no one other than your husband standing in front of the doorway with a towel in his hand. Hazel eyes travel up and down your frame, his jaw tensing at the sight of your bunched up nightgown barely covering your body — hell, it didn’t cover anything, he stares longingly at your left breast deciding to slip out of the covers. He steps into the room and closes the door shut immediately, his eyes still locked into your frame and he stays silent. 

You press the nightgown against your body even more and you look away from his gaze, as if it could help hide your insecurities that are growing the more he stared and stayed silent. However, all that stops when you glance back at your husband and he gives you a come hither motion with his index finger. “Kento,” you say his name softly, “I thought you were asleep—”

“Come here,” is all he says to you, his voice low and baritone. You easily comply with his words, taking small strides to get closer to the male. “Hand me your nightgown.”

“I thought it was Hana that knocked,” you say quietly as you hand your husband your nightgown, further revealing your naked body. You can hear Kento’s breath hitch for a mere moment before he quickly regains his composure — however, it is already so fragile. He swiftly wraps the towel around your body before pulling you closer to him, his hands resting on your hips while he leans closer to your face with stern eyes. “You’re lucky that it was me, then. What were you thinking about going out of the bath like that? What if it wasn’t Hana or I that walked in?” 

“I didn't want to stay in the bath anymore, and I genuinely believed that my maids would be the only ones to walk in. Because of that, I didn’t feel too worried.” You answer your husband softly, squeezing his shoulder ever so slightly. “Despite you giving me a bit of a surprise, I can’t say that I’d rather have Hana come here instead of you.”

“Is that so? That’s a relief, then. I did tell her that I’d take care of the rest and she could rest for the night.” He hummed, before lifting you up in his arms without any warning, immediately eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips. 

“W-what are you doing?” You question your husband, stammering as you instinctively place your hand onto his chest. 

“You know, after you played your little game earlier, I wasn’t able to do my work properly.” says Kento, opening the bathroom door. “I believe you should bear some sort of responsibility, no?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter under your breath, masking a soft grin as you nuzzle your face into your husband’s neck.

 “Putting a baby inside you,” he says, a slight strain present in his baritone voice as he continues walking down the hall with your towel-covered body in his arms. The walk down to your shared bedroom feels like an eternity has passed, the sounds of his footsteps resonating across the quiet hall. You want to question him where the rest of maids and butlers had gone but you relented, your body tense under the man’s carnal gaze.

“If fucking a baby inside of you is what you want, then it’s what you’ll get. It’s what my sweet wife asked for, after all.”

“H-Honey, what are you—?” 

With one hand, Kento swiftly opens the bedroom door. You let out a small shriek when he throws you on the soft mattress of your king-sized bed, his large hands pinning your hands above your head. He has this carnal glint in his amber eyes as he stares deeply into yours, it was as if all his self-control was beginning to crumble right before your eyes — you’ve never seen him like this; a cool, composed and reserved man looking so disheveled above you—his dress shirt buttoned loosely, revealing his collarbones and the evident incarnadine flush radiating onto his cheeks. Truly, it is a delicious sight to behold, and the wetness dwelling between your legs only seems to grow the longer you stare at the man.

 “What a lewd woman, you are.” He mutters, his grip on your wrists tightening while his other hand trails down your chest, slowly pulling the towel down. “Was my sweet wife having fun playing teatime after leaving me to take care of this?”  

Before you can even utter a word, a sudden gasp leaves your lips when Kento grinds his hips against yours; the delightful friction of the erection growing in his trousers rubbing against your clit, your back arching in hopes to get more. “I missed you,” you say between heavy breaths, “I missed you so much—Ah! Y-You’ve been so cooped up in your o-office lately and ngh..”

Your words were cut abruptly by his lips, teeths clashed and tongues intertwined while his rough and calloused fingers trail up your torso, towards your bare chest in a teasingly slow pace. A muffled moan leaves your lips, only to be covered by your husband’s lips, as he teases your already erect nipples.

 “Tell me more,” said your husband, his lips leaving yours. 

With heavy eyes, you watch Kento’s lips trail to where his hands once rested. His tongue swirls around the mound before sucking on your skin harshly, and you rest your fingers tangled in his blond locks as he continues to elicit those cute sounds coming from your swollen lips.

“You’ve been so busy with your duties as the duke, and—Mhhm..!—I-I’ve been feeling so alone these many nights while I longed for you, so so desperately. I love you so much Kento—Ah!” You mewl out those words in unadulterated wanton, your voice all shakey, it almost sounds embarrassingly pathetic when your husband is doing nothing more than teasing your breasts rather than fucking you relentlessly in the mattress. You can barely care less about how you sound though, because his lips and touch alone are enough to send you into ecstasy. You want him to touch you more. The needy ache between your legs continuously grows more intense the longer he teases you. 

“H-Honey, ‘want more. Please.” You beg your husband, your fingers desperately trying to unbutton his wrinkled dress shirt. “I need more of you.”

Kento doesn’t reply back, continuing his little ministrations on your neglected mound. It is adorable seeing him so focused on pleasuring you, but the heat you feel in your pussy feels too overwhelming. You push your husband’s head away from your mound, his lips leaving your skin with a soft ‘pop!’ He glances at you questioningly.

It was a bold and sudden decision that you had made on a whim out of sheer desperation, but his reaction made it all the more worth it. As soon as your fingers leave his half-buttoned dress shirt, you hook your arms underneath your knees and spread your legs open, revealing your cunt drenched in your desperate juices. “Kento, I mean it when I told you that I wanted you to put a baby in me.”

His mouth is left agape at your sudden boldness, his eyes fixated on the juices slowly dripping out of your hole — his breath gets stuck in his throat as he watches your small fingers spread your pussy lips apart. “Kento, touch me. Please.”

“Shit.”

It is almost as if the string has finally snapped inside of him, because before his mind can even start to think properly, his hands are on your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart as he begins the merciless assault on your dripping folds; his tongue lapping at all your wetness as if he was animal thirsty for water. Kento almost groans at the way his finger stretches your pussy, his finger sliding in almost immediately due to your juices. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “you’re so wet for me.”

He slides his index finger in and out before adding a second finger to the mix. He starts off slow, but his pace gradually quickens to that of which is considered merciless. The sounds of your wet cunt getting demolished by his fingers echoes in the grand room, along with your cries of pleasure. Your hips thrash against his fingers, and you can feel the sensation of pressure that was building up in your abdomen intensifying the more that he pleases you with his large fingers. Within less than a second, you cum intensely around his fingers, a loud moan erupting from your throat as your body slumps against Kento. 

‘His fingers feel so much better compared to my fingers,’ you think to yourself as you try to recover from your first orgasm. 

While you attempt to catch your breath, you glance back to Kento only to watch him undress with your mouth salivating. It’s already a given that your husband would be incredibly fit as he often trains with the knights and hunts (while not forgetting the night you had consummated with him in the dark the past few months ago — you felt every crevice of his muscles) — but now, seeing it up close and so clearly — he is truly a sight to behold. You reach your arm towards his chiseled abdomen, your fingers drawing hearts across his skin, and your eyes travel lower past his abdomen; staring intently at the huge tent growing beneath his underwear. You want to get fucked by this man already, so so bad.

“Kento,” you say his name softly, tracing your fingers along the outline of your husband’s clothed erection before trailing back up to the waistband, tugging it down slightly to expose more of his v-line. He tugs his boxers down completely, and your mouth immediately waters at the exquisite sight. He is a lot bigger than you had remembered.

When he slowly rubs the tip of his dick against your folds, shivers trickle down your spine as you raise your hips to meet his, attempting to get him inside. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He mumbles, his voice hoarse. “Look at you all spread open for me, desperate to get a taste of my cock.”

He slips his tip in, eliciting a sharp breath past your trembling lips, and then he pulls out. You whine out his name in a bated breath, your cheeks flushed in an incarnadine hue. Kento spares you a soft smile, almost as if it was mocking you, before he fills your hole up to the very brim — splitting your pussy open. 

“Oh fuck—Kento!” A scream slips past your lips, your eyes scrunched shut as a huge wave of pleasure rushes through your veins, sending goosebumps on your skin. Your husband is relentless with his movements, your legs spread apart by his strong grip.  The sounds of his skin slapping against yours along with cries of his name resonates across the bedroom, coupled with the intense squeaking from the mattress. “F-Feels so good—Ahn! Please—Please don’t stop—Oh!”

“You dirty woman,” Kento sneers, “we’ve just started and your pussy’s already so greedy for my cum by how tight you’re squeezing me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get my sweet wife pregnant—filled with all my cum.”

With that, he spreads your legs even wider and leans his torso closer to yours; his face merely centimeters away from yours. “I can feel you getting tighter,” He says, his hot breath fanning against your skin, “you’re getting real close, hm?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to properly reply though, as he trails his one hand down to your clit and rubs rough circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a silent scream—your mouth agape and eyes rolled back as you ride out your orgasm, arching your back against his chest. 

You are barely given enough time to recover when Kento returns to work, his lips instantly connecting to yours while he thrusts his cock inside your sopping hole with a stuttering pace. His hands travel up to your breasts and gives them a harsh squeeze, the pace of his thrusts quickening. Your husband looks utterly delectable, his face scrunched up as he focuses on your pleasure, small beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Pleasure fills your veins, and your cries only increase in volume the closer you are to reaching your second orgasm. 

Thoughts of you being all plumped up and pregnant play repeatedly in his mind, and it merely ignites his desire to pump all his cum into you. Breaths ragged, he stuffs his head into the crook of your neck, nails gripping into your hips as he continues to plummet into you. “K-Kento—!” You wantonly whine out his name, wrapping your legs tightly around your husband’s hips. “Cum inside me—please. Want your kids so bad.”

How can he not cum? Especially when the sight of his sweet wife being drunk on his dick is right before his eyes. With a groan (combined with a growl) of your name along with a string of curses leaving his lips, he stiffens up inside you; warm ropes of his cum coating your walls white. 

Upon pulling out, he watches large beads of white leaking out of your hole and he sticks his finger inside, pushing his cum back inside. You released a soft sigh in pleasure, your legs slightly twitching at your husband’s touch. 

“How are you feeling now?” Questions your husband, Kento. You reach your arm out to his face, your thumb tracing light circles on his cheekbones. 

“I’m a happy, happy wife,” you reply to him, laughing softly before leaning into his lips, giving him a soft peck. Kento chuckles lightly into the kiss. “Was I too rough with you?” He asks you once more, and you shake your head immediately.

“I think I’ve realized just now how much I enjoy being manhandled by you,” you reply back to him, giggling. “Rather, I enjoy seeing this new side of you.”

Your giggles quickly gets replaced by a slight gasp when your husband suddenly adjusts your position, your face and chest now pressed against the mattress with your husband behind you, his hand lightly rubbing his erect cock. Swiftly, you turn your head to Kento, your mouth agape as you are just about to question him but the sting of his hand on your ass immediately erases all rational thoughts in your mind. Heat immediately rushes to your face once more at the foreign, yet pleasurable sensation. 

“K-Kento,” you are able to utter your husband’s name, your arms already feeling weak from holding yourself up from the mattress. A shaky breath leaves your lips when he slowly rubs his cock against you from behind, your ears picking up a hoarse chuckle.

“I never said I was done with you,” Kento tells you, “not until I’m sure that you’ll get pregnant with all my cum."

© 6TORU do not copy, repost, or translate my works on any platform.

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[castiwls]

coach (doesn't) always know best .ᐟ

Paring; coach!patrick x single mom!reader

Synopsis; Patrick continues to be a thorn in your side whether he means to or not. When you get a phone call claiming your son had hit another kid you had a damn good idea who had a hand in this.

Notes; part two to my coach one shot kinda? I think I'm gonna write more one shots which all link into a larger story? I'm not good with full series but I have an idea where I wanna take this. ALSO named the kid Noah to help make it easier

Masterlist | coach!au masterlist

You were pissed - scratch that seething. 

You’ve been having a good week. Work had been easy and thankfully so had your son, Noah had his moments even at eight he was still prone to random emotional outbursts which always left a slight pit in your stomach.

You’d never planned to be a single parent and sometimes you really wanted to need someone else to rant to whenever you fucked up. Though this time it wasn’t you who had fucked up.

“What made you think that was okay?” Your son watched from the kitchen table, his eyes wide with the guilt you knew was eating at him. He’d been quiet ever since you’d come to pick him up from school besides mumbling apologies he’d barely spoken something which left you uneasy. 

“I have always told you to never put your hands on someone else! If a kid is mean to you or your friends you go get a teacher.” A sigh left your lips as you paused in front of him. This was completely new ground. He was a good kid, the best which is why you’d been in utter disbelief when you’d gotten the phone call telling you to come pick him up.

You’d immediately assumed he must have been sick but his teacher had quickly curved that by telling you that your son had taken it upon himself to hit another kid at break. You knew the kid he’d hit was a brat - it was common knowledge - but that didn’t make a difference on how your son had acted. 

His little feet kicked idly as he stared at his hands. “I know he was being mean to your friend okay? And he shouldn’t have taken that toy but you shouldn’t have hit him.” You knelt your hand rubbing over his knee. 

“You're mad.” He mumbled reusing to look up. “I’m disappointed.” You corrected him. 

His cheated heaved as he took a breath, and you already knew he wasn’t far off crying. The disappointment was far worse than anger in his mind. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his hands pulling at his polo.

“I know you are. But why?” You couldn’t get your head around why he had hit this kid! Ever since he was young you’d discouraged hitting and he’d never attempted it since starting school. You were sure you’d curved the habit but now you were unsure. 

“Why did you hit him?”

Noah sniffled his shoulders slumping as you watched him, waiting. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this one. “He kept being mean to Conner and he wouldn’t do anything! He pushed him over yesterday and the teacher didn’t believe us.” Your jaw tightened slightly as he relayed the story. “That doesn’t mean you hit him.”

He nodded. “I mentioned it last night at practice, and Conner got upset, so Patrick asked what happened, and he said that a bully won't stop unless you show him you're just as strong.” He looked up, his big eyes wet, as he rubbed a fist across his ruddy cheeks. 

You hummed pulling him in for a hug.

You were gonna kill Patrick.

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“You told my son to hit a boy.” 

Patrick grimaced leaning against his car as your voice carried down the phone. “Hello to you too.” He mumbled. 

“Patrick.” You snapped. 

“I didn’t tell him to hit the kid!”

“You told him to get him back! He’s eight! He doesn’t understand that ‘get him back’ doesn’t mean literally do the same thing.”

“I didn’t think he’d listen to me! I was just tryna make the kid feel better.” You scoffed mumbling under your breath. Shifting his grip on the phone he took another drag of his cigarette. “I’m sorry alright! I didn’t think he’d take it literally.”

He couldn’t lie part of him got a small kick out of it. The teachers weren’t doing anything and at least your son had the guts to stand up to the kid. Maybe he’d gone about it the wrong way but still, he doubted that kid would be trying anything again soon. 

“Get your ass over here right now.” Your tone was still harsh as you watched the window. “I want you to tell him what he did was wrong.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “Hey, I’m his tennis coach, not some sorta ethics teacher.” He stamped out the cigarette a small smirk pulling at his lips as memories of that last time he’d ended up at your door flashed through his mind. 

Hell, that had been the first time he’d managed to render you speechless…more than once. He’d taken great amusement in the way you’d refused to look at him for the full week after, almost as if you were embarrassed that he’d worn you down that fast.

“I think you just want an excuse to get me back into your house.” He heard your groan and his grin only widened. “Mhm. One time wasn’t enough?”

“I’m going to skin you alive Zweig.”

“I love when you talk like that. It’s kinda hot knowing you think about me…even if it is about my demise.”

A scowl formed on your face as your hand tightened over your phone. Damn him. 

“You’ll be here in 30 minutes or i will make sure you can’t have any children.”

He chuckled, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He could almost picture the look on your face, the way your jaw clenched as your eyes would darken just a smidge.

“Anything you say, Sweetheart.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

It only took one ring for you to open the door, a tight smile pulling at your lips as you let him in. “Just in time.” You mumbled not missing the way his eyes seemed to take an elevator sweep of your body.

Patrick grinned, hands shoved into his jeans as you closed the door. “Look’s like my future children are safe huh?”

“For now.” 

You turned heading towards the kitchen before yelling over your shoulder. “Take your shoes off.”

Patrick rolled his eyes before kicking his shoes off and following you through the entryway. Noah looked up from his plate, his eyes widening before a bright grin broke out when he noticed Patrick behind you. He raised his hand in greeting which Patrick returned with a smile of his own. 

“You remember how i spoke to you about what you did?” Noah’s gaze moved to you, his smile dulling slightly as he nodded. “Yeah.” You gestured to Patrick as you leaned against the counter. 

Patrick frowned something in his chest pulling at the way the normally lively boy seemed subdued almost as he listened to you. “Patricks gonna talk to you about the conversation you had alright?” You pushed off the counter sending Patrick a look which said ‘Don’t fuck this up’ before you paused by the doorway.

“You're not in trouble.” You reminded gently. Noah nodded, his shoulders relaxing when he registered that Patrick wasn’t there to yell at him. You smiled before turning to leave. “Wait. wait, wait, wait. You're not gonna…stay” He gestured to your son. 

“This is your problem.” You hummed watching as the man gaped at you. “You can solve this by telling him what you actually meant.” Patrick seemed to snap out of his shock. He’d caused this mess and now you were letting him talk to your son about it again! You were letting him parent your damn child!

He was not qualified for this. 

You sighed stepping closer as Noah watched you both. “I already laid the groundwork you just have to reinforce it. He’s gonna listen to you since it's you who he listened to the first time.” 

Before he could respond you’d already wandered away. He watched for a moment as you disappeared up the stairs before he turned back to the boy. Taking a small breath he clapped his hands before pulling out the chair next to him. 

“Alright kid, ready to talk?”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

Half an hour later you were growing angsty. They were still talking. You hadn’t heard any screaming yet, neither had Patrick come looking for you which you assumed was a good thing.

Though you were quickly running out of chores. You’d cleaned your room and his room before doing both bathrooms. It couldn't help to just go and check…right?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you quietly returned downstairs. The soft echo of voices reached your ears as you paused by the kitchen door, peering through the crack. Your lips parted in slight shock as you watched your son nodding eagerly at whatever his coach was saying. 

He was practically half-lent across the table as he listened. The room fell quiet for a moment before your son's voice filled the silence. “Mommies still mad.” He said, his lips pulling into a frown. “Your Mom’s not upset bud.” Patrick sighed resting a hand on the table. 

“She’s probably just shocked more than anything. Shocked and maybe disappointed but she's not mad.” He reassured, his tone softer than you’d ever heard. Something in your chest pulled as you watched the two. The way your son shifted ever closer filled you with a slight warmth.

Your ex wasn’t the best father, too caught up in his own company even when he had Noah to make an effort. You knew he was missing a male role model and you’d spent many nights kicking yourself for the downfall of your relationship.

He really trusted Patrick. You swallowed your hand curling over the door knob as your son got off his chair. You watched with bated breath as he stopped by Patrick's legs, his small voice mumbling. “Hug?”

Patrick seemed to freeze for a moment, his eyes glancing around the room. He didn’t seem to notice you before he looked back down to Noah’s pleading gaze. “Sure buddy.” He smiled helping the boy climb into his lap.

Patrick fumbled for a moment before figuring out the best way to hold him, his large hands rubbing over his back. “You know you're really lucky right?” Noah hummed pulling back slightly. “How?”

Patrick smiled. “Your mom really loves you. The fact she was so worried over this means that she really cares okay? I promise you she’s not mad.” Noah nodded. “She's not mad,” he repeated, the message finally seeming to sink in as he buried his head back into Patrick's chest. 

His hand continued to rub soothing patterns as he let himself enjoy the affection. It made his heart warm almost the way the little boy seemed to finally properly relax. “You really hit the jackpot.” He teased feeling Noah shift. 

“I’m pretty sure you got the best mom in the whole world.”

Noah giggled pulling back again. “I did!” He grinned. 

You stepped back, your head hitting the wall as their voices drifted into the background. Taking a breath you tried to suppress the smile pulling at your lips as the scene replayed over and over in your head. 

Patrick thought you were a good Mom. The thought was insane. The fact that you liked it was even wilder.

Taking a breath you pushed off the wall. You’d let them be for now.

[threadbaresweater]

togame jo x reader. they're in their late 30's, with two kids. this is all just fluff. feeling sentimental today.

Your mornings aren't as leisurely as they used to be anymore, but that doesn't make them any less meaningful.

Even on the weekends now, you're awake with the sun. There's a hungry toddler in your bed, nestled snug between you and Togame, insisting on "pantates" before you can even open your eyes. Jo is either pretending to be asleep or truly isn't disturbed by the tiny fists that pummel his bicep. Either way, you're briefly jealous of his ability to block everything out.

"Alright, mister. Let's get pancakes," you say, sweeping your son into your arms. He rewards you with a delighted squeal and two chubby, grubby little hands on your cheeks as you carry him to the kitchen like the miniature royalty he is.

You give yourself a moment to stretch, to yawn, to orient yourself to the light. Thankfully, you remembered to set the coffee pot to brew before you went to bed last night, so there's a fresh, fragrant pot waiting for you. And though the day has barely just begun, you're already making a mental list of all the thing you'd like to accomplish today.

The work week left you wrung out and weary, and there had been a fair number of appointments and errands to run. By the time each evening rolled around, you were thankful for your past self for planning ahead for meals, so you'd have one less decision to make on an already whirlwind day.

You're brought out of your thoughts by your son, whose big green eyes well with tears as he tugs at your pajama pants and stares up at you, little lip quivering. "Pantate?" he says.

"Yes, pancakes are coming." You ruffle his head of jet black hair, and he giggles, giving your leg a squeeze before wandering off. You figure he's going back to the bedroom to try and wake up Jo, and you smile to yourself as you turn on the stove.

Your thoughts drift once again to the mental list you started earlier: the lawn needs mowed at some point, you're out of butter (again), there's a pile of laundry that rivals Mount Everest. You've got three texts from your best friend that you forgot to reply to, two missed calls from your mother, and- oh, shit, you forgot about that dentist appointment yesterday.

While the pan on the stove heats, you grab your phone and start to reply to your sister. You're so engrossed in typing and thinking that you don't hear Togame pad his way into the kitchen. Two warm, broad hands slide onto your hips, and when he kisses your shoulder, you forget where you are for just a moment.

"Worrying all by yourself out here, beautiful?" he teases, laying another kiss on the tender spot behind your ear. You smile and allow the warm thrill to relax you, if only temporarily. There's a loud, exasperated groan from the other side of the room that announces your teenage daughter's arrival.

"Gross, you guys! Don't do that in here."

Togame steps away from you. "But I love her," he drawls.

Your daughter gags and opens the fridge. "Good for you. Love her somewhere else." She grabs a yogurt and refuses to make eye contact with either of you as she leaves the room.

Reply to your sister forgotten, you pour batter into the pan and add a few blueberries for good measure. "Do you really love me?" you say, feigning surprise.

Togame smiles- a sleepy, dopey, lovestruck morning smile, and you fall in love with him all over again. "So much, babe. You have no idea."

You think maybe you know, just a little.

[daisymbin]

what kind of future? - jeon wonwoo

warnings: alcohol mention, ANGST!!!! happy ending though so all is well

pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: exes to lovers

wc: 2.3k

check out my masterlist!

“why did you block me?” your voice comes out small, muffled through the lump in your throat as you stand in front of wonwoo’s front door. It’s saturday night, and you’re clutching plastic bags filled with takeout boxes of all his favorites, the familiar smell of the food wafting into the cold air between you. you’ve been worried sick all week, desperate to understand why he cut you out so suddenly, and tonight, after a week of silence from him, you couldn’t wait any longer.

wonwoo stares back at you, and even in the dim glow of the porch light, you can see how exhausted he looks. his eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with that drunken haze you recognize from nights out together with friends & also from dates. you can smell the faint alcohol on him, and he’s swaying slightly in the doorway, unsteady but painfully familiar. his dark hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie and sweats, looking every bit as vulnerable as you feel.

he doesn’t answer you. not at first. instead, he laughs, the sound broken and empty, and leans his shoulder against the door frame. “so now you care?” he slurs, voice cracking around the edges. “you care now that i’m a mess, huh?”

you step closer, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. “wonwoo, i’ve always cared,” you argue softly, voice trembling. “what happened? why did you block me? did i do something wrong?”

he laughs again, bitter and self-deprecating, before slumping down, sliding his back against the door frame until he’s sitting on the ground. his long legs stretch out in front of him, and he rubs his hands over his face, as if he can’t stand to look at you.

you crouch down beside him, setting the takeout bags aside. “wonwoo,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he flinches away, and the movement cuts deeper than you thought possible.

“i blocked you because i’m tired,” he mutters, voice thick with more than just alcohol. “tired of wanting something i can’t have. tired of pretending. i thought... maybe if i just erased you from my life, i could move on.” he looks up then, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and your heart breaks at the sight. “but it didn’t work. nothing works. not even drinking until i can’t feel anything.” another bitter laugh left his dry, chapped lips.

you’re stunned, your mind spinning, but part of you understands. it’s a pain you know all too well, a familiar ache that never quite faded. “wonwoo-ah,” you whisper, the name heavy on your tongue, full of memories you’d buried after you two broke up. “we both tried moving on, didn’t we?” the words hang between you, a painful truth neither of you ever wanted to address.

wonwoo looks up at you, the bitterness softening into something achingly vulnerable. “we did,” he admits, voice cracking. “but no matter how many times i tried to convince myself i was over you, no matter how hard i fought to just be friends... i couldn’t. i just can't.” he runs a shaky hand through his hair, his tears slipping down his cheeks. “god, do you know how bad it hurts?”

you feel your own tears spill over, remembering how hard it was when you broke up, how you both decided to try and stay friends for the sake of the boys, you've known them for far too long. “i thought i was doing the right thing,” you whisper, voice trembling. “we both did. but maybe…-”

wonwoo’s eyes search yours, the pain and longing there almost too much to bear. “i don't need you to pity me. if you've moved on, just go-”

“go where exactly wonwoo? who said anything about moving on? do you think i have?” you let out a frustrated sigh.

he cuts you off, throwing his head back with a humorless laugh. “oh, come on,” he says, his voice raising a little, frustration and pain bleeding through. “i saw you. last weekend. with him.”

you blink, confusion clear on your face. “him? who?”

wonwoo clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists on his lap. “that guy you were laughing with at the café,” he snaps. “you looked... so happy. and he was touching your hand, and you didn’t pull away. i thought...” he trails off, his voice breaking. “i thought you liked him. i thought you were... moving on

the realization hits you like a punch to the gut. you know exactly who he’s talking about; an old friend who had come into town unexpectedly. it was a friendly catch-up, nothing more. you hadn’t even considered that wonwoo would’ve seen it, much less misunderstood it. you reach for him despite his flinch, your fingers trembling. “wonwoo, that wasn’t... that wasn’t what you thought,” you say, tears streaking your cheeks. “he’s just an old friend, nothing more. i didn’t think you... still felt this way about me.”

wonwoo laughs again, but this time it’s full of disbelief, raw and shaky. “felt this way?” he echoes in disbelief, voice heavy with emotion. “i never stopped loving you. i’ve been trying to bury it for months, trying to be okay with just being friends. but it’s killing me. everything about you still drives me crazy.” he pauses, his voice breaking further. “i tried my best to stay strictly friendly with you, just the way you wanted, to keep up with just being friends for your sake, for the sake of our friendship and the boys. but every time i see you, every time i look at you...it takes everything in me to not reach for you, to not touch you, hold you, kiss you. it hurt so damn much to act like it didn’t at all. i really tried to keep my distance, for the sake of our friendship, for the boys...for myself. because i cant afford to lose you completely.. if i ever did…it would kill me.”

your voice wavers, thick with emotion. “i didn’t think you'd still want me anymore. i-i still love you.”

wonwoo looks up at you, hope flickering in his gaze, “you..still love me?”

“yes, i-”

his hopeful eyes were swallowed quickly by disbelief. he shakes his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “no,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “don’t do this. dont do this to me. don’t say things just to make me feel better.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, pain slicing through you as you watch him crumble. “i’m not,” you insist, tears pooling in your own eyes. “wonwoo, you just don’t get it, do you?” your voice breaks, and your hands tremble as you reach for him. “i’ve never stopped loving you. i thought things would be simpler, easier for you if we stayed friends, so i kept my feelings locked up too. but i love you. god, i love you so much that it hurts.”

his breath catches, and his tears fall faster, tracing painful paths down his face. yet still, he doesn't trust himself enough to believe his own 2 ears. “do you know how much it hurts?” he asks, voice barely a whisper. “the thought of losing you completely when you left me…it hurt so bad that I.. i took whatever you were willing to give me, even if its just to be your friend again…I did it even though it killed me inside.” he shudders, the tears slipping down his face. “but seeing you with someone else broke me. i thought i was strong enough, but... god, it hurts so much.”

wonwoo clings to you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, his grip firm but trembling. his eyes closes shut as he whispers, “i don’t want to let go,” voice cracking with every word. “come back to me. i can’t lose you again.” he pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, any sign that this is still a mistake. but all he finds is the same raw, desperate hope reflected in your gaze.

“you won't lose me again,” you promise, fingers brushing against his cheeks, wiping away the tears that keep falling. “i love you, i love you just the same, if not more.”

a broken, relieved laugh spills from his lips, and his eyes shine with an overwhelming mix of emotions. “god, i thought i’d never hear you say that again,” he breathes out, voice full of disbelief. “i was so sure you’d moved on, that you were happier without me.”

“never,” you say, voice cracking. “i thought about you every day, wondered if you were okay, if you were hurting too. and when we tried to be friends, it was like twisting the knife deeper. because i wanted you so badly, but i was too scared to ruin what little we had left.”

wonwoo’s hands move to cradle your face, thumbs brushing over your tear-stained skin. his touch is hesitant, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks. “it was the same for me,” he whispers, voice breaking. “every time i saw you, all i wanted to do was pull you into my arms and never let go. but i kept telling myself i couldn’t, that it wasn’t fair to you or to anyone else. i clenched my jaw and fought so damn hard to keep my hands to myself, to not reach for you. it killed me every single time.”

“we’ve both been hurting for so long,” you say, the weight of everything crashing over you, “let's not hurt anymore.”

his forehead drops to yours again, and his breath mingles with yours, shaky and uneven. “i love you,” he says, voice raw and full of longing. “i’ve loved you through every second of heartbreak, through every moment of pretending. i don’t want to lose you ever again.”

“you won’t,” you repeat, your voice barely a whisper but carrying all the love and hope you’ve held onto. “not this time. we’re both here, and we’re not giving up on each other again.”

he closes the small distance between you, his lips finally pressing against yours, a kiss that’s both desperate and healing. it’s messy, full of unshed tears and broken sobs, but it’s real, so achingly real. his hands tighten around you, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, it almost feels like he's trying to dominate you, but you know wonwoo better than this; you know he's not trying to dominate you, he just needs to feel every part of you to believe this is really happening.

when you finally pull back, both of you breathless and still crying, he lets out a shaky laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “we’re a mess,” he says, his voice full of warmth despite the tears. “but i’d rather be a mess with you than pretend i’m okay without you.”

you laugh, a real, genuine laugh that comes from the heart, and you nod, resting your head against his chest. “me too.” you whisper, your voice filled with a kind of hope you haven’t felt in a long time.

“will you sleep with me tonight?” wonwoo’s voice is small, almost childlike, and he looks at you as though he’s expecting rejection, his dark eyes wide with worry. he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly, and you can tell he’s barely holding himself together. “i don't think i've had a proper night's rest since…that night.”

his gaze drops to the floor, and the silence that follows is heavy, as if he's bracing himself for the worst. he’s so scared that he’s asking for too much, so vulnerable and unsure. he shifts awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. his dark eye circles and pale skin don't go unnoticed by you. “we won't do anything,” he adds quickly, his voice trembling. “i swear. i just… i just want to sleep with you. to feel your heartbeat close, to hold you—” he pauses, clenching his jaw, struggling to put his longing into words as he lets out a breath, “it’s the only way i think i can rest, even just for a little while.”

the way he finishes his plea, the unspoken desperation lacing his words, makes your heart twist painfully in your chest. he’s usually so composed, so steady, but right now he looks as fragile as glass, like one wrong move could shatter him completely.

“wonwoo,” you whisper softly, pulling him closer. his head snaps up, and he looks at you with hopeful yet cautious eyes, like he’s terrified to hope for too much. you reach out, resting your palms against both his cheeks, and he freezes at the warmth of your touch.

“of course,” you say, your voice gentle and soothing, trying to reassure him. “of course we can.” your thumb rubs small, comforting circles over his cheeks, and you give him a soft smile. “i’m here, okay? i’ll stay with you.”

wonwoo’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he lets out a shaky breath, relief washing over his face. his hand tightens around yours, and he looks at you as if you’re his safe place, the only one who can mend the aching void in his chest.

“thank you,” he murmurs, his voice cracking.

“come on, lets have dinner first.” you say as your hands clung onto his, pulling him up with you, and wonwoo takes a tentative step closer, as though afraid you might disappear if he moves too fast. you don’t, though. you’re right there, just as you promised.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like he can finally breathe; and he does. tonight, he found the appetite that he's lost for the past few months, he even slept through the night for the first time in months. wonwoo prays that this is the kind of future that lies in front the both of you. he doesn't think he could do it with anyone else if it isn't you.

[antimonyandthyme]

body swap, for carcar or even landoscarcar?

He wakes up, disoriented. It’s not even light out yet, why the fuck is he awake? His throat’s a little sore, his hips are a little sore. Jeez. Didn’t even bother to put some pants on last night, and did he chafe his ass on like, the sheets or something? Wow. He’s sore all over. A settled, pleasant kind though, a muscle ache too deep for him to reach. Maybe he can skip the gym today, hop on a stream, relax. Grab Carlos for a round of golf before he leaves, if he’s not too busy mapping Monaco on his bike.

He turns to his left. Claps a hand over his mouth, shrieks into it.

Like, he’s groggy. He doesn’t have the remnants of a disaster headache, so he’s not hungover. But it’s early, and he never wakes up early. Must be why he’s hallucinating.

When he can bring himself to look again, Carlos is still there. Close enough that Lando can hear the air whistling softly through his teeth.

Lando shifts uselessly, stares. That’s Carlos, alright. He’s always been a loud sleeper. Back in their McLaren days, when they’d shared hotel rooms, Lando had taken voice recordings to prove to an adamant Carlos that he snored. The memory makes his lips twitch. It’s nice Carlos looks well-rested. Better than he has in awhile. A pretty trophy will do that for you. If he wants, Lando can choose to waste precious time counting Carlos’s lashes while he figures out what to do. He’ll lose count at probably a hundred.

That’s Carlos, alright.

What were they doing last night? Surely Lando would remember. The party was loud, raucous, the Prince of Monaco victorious here at last. All podium finishers present, fourth place included. Drinking, laughing, cozying up to one another. Carlos and Oscar smiling tentatively at each other after sharing just one couch, animosity seemingly forgotten. The prickly itch crawling under Lando’s skin, until Charles finally manages to bag him a set. The music, beats pounding a tattoo into his brain. He remembers all of that.

Surely he would remember taking Carlos’s clothes off. He’s wanted to for—

Lando slaps both hands onto his cheeks, hard enough to sting. He needs to take a leak.

He squeaks out of the bed, as quietly as he can. Trips over a pair of jeans that look vaguely familiar, rams his toe into the wheel of a suitcase that definitely wasn’t there last night. Finds the bathroom, closes the door with a silent snick.

Fumbles around like a dunce for the light switch, right there where all light switches usually are.

Flicks it on. Shrieks for real this time, without his hands to cover the noise.

It’s a good thing Carlos has always slept like the dead. To be absolutely fucking certain, Lando peeks his head out.

Yep, still asleep. That’s Carlos, alright.

Deep, deep breaths. As deep as he can go without passing out. He returns to the mirror. Feels for his face like it’s a foreign object.

Which it is. Because that’s Oscar Piastri, looking right back at him.

--

He means to start off with something useful. Something like, Hey, do you remember what drugs we were on last night? E? Salvia? Because mate, these are the strangest withdrawal symptoms I’ve ever experienced. Or even something funny, like Haha, now I know what you look like naked. The fans are going to have a field day.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “Why are you sleeping with Carlos?”

“Good morning to you too,” Oscar says, after the longest pause on planet fucking earth.

He didn’t mean for that to sound as sulky as he did. But he’s sore all over, and his lips, which are not his, but Oscar’s, feel extremely kissed, and he definitely does not expect that to make something in his chest twist tighter than a coiled spring.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

“What did we drink last night?” Oscar says, unsurprisingly choosing to be the level-headed one in this conversation.

“Something bright green, something ocean blue. Dunno. Lost track during the set.”

“Lando,” Oscar says patiently, in Lando’s voice. Which is just all kinds of weird. “Something green, something blue, doesn’t sound all that normal.”

“I knew that DJ couldn’t be trusted.”

The world-weary sigh Lando receives makes his skin prickle with heat. Things have been happening. The car’s gotten faster. From his grandmother to the mechanics, everyone’s been talking about a chance he could pull like magic out of thin air. It’s not his fault he wasn’t paying attention. At the club, or to every encounter Carlos and Oscar had prior to this that has led them here.

“Look, I’m gonna—where are you?”

“In Carlos’s room,” Lando says, rudely, unhelpfully.

“Right. I’ll. I’ll be there in. We’re staying just, two blocks away, right? I’ll be there in ten. Could you. Could you please, just—”

Lando expects him to say something totally condescending. Please just don’t freak out. Please just don’t do anything until I get there, because I’m being responsible and you’re being a baby.

“Just, go back?”

“What?”

“Be next to him, when he wakes up?”

Lando swallows. The acid from yesterday must be making his stomach churn. Oscar—in Lando’s fucking voice, sounds smaller and more hopeful than Lando ever wants to hear himself sound.

“I don’t want him to think.” Oscar stops. Lando can practically see him scrubbing at the back of his neck. “I don’t want him to think I left, or anything like that. Could you—”

Lando hangs up.

The earnestness. The, the audacity.

The phone rings again, and Lando hangs up again, out of pure spite. He paces wildly, in front of the mirror. Each time he turns on his heel he imagines his body morphing back into what’s right. Each turn smacks him with the image that Oscar’s pale, freckled skin turns splotchy red when he’s angry.

What. A useful thing. To know.

It’s been half an hour since he’s woken up. Which means, oh fuck. Fuck. Carlos’s body clock has always been impeccable. Eight, on the dot, he springs out of bed like it’s a wonderful thing being alive at that hour, and then goes and makes coffee without fail. Which means in three, two minutes, Carlos will open his eyes. And, and he’ll be alone in bed.

He’ll be alone. That’ll make Lando feel better, right? Carlos will be alone, and then Oscar will no longer be a problem, and then the itch under his skin will disappear, for good.

Carlos will be alone.

He flicks off the light, slips out of the bathroom. Bangs his toe again on that damned suitcase. Slides under the covers, adjusts himself into a position he hopes might be believable. Head on one hand, face tilted toward Carlos. Body leaning, reaching. Always reaching. Eyes half-closed.

But open enough so that he can see the exact moment Carlos wakes. See that small, relieved smile. See the way Carlos clicks his jaw askew, the way he always does before making a decision. Then feel Carlos run the backs of his knuckles against a face he wishes were familiar.