#tossing this out before I overthink it

[aceinthefreakinspace]

well. this has been a first for me.

[st4rpiece]

sleeping separately after an argument pt. 1

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, and sanji x fem! reader summary: how the strawhat boys would react to you sleeping alone after an argument CW: mainly fluff, slight angst others: not proofread, lowercase intended, and pictures found on pinterest

—————

Monkey D. Luffy

luffy doesn't handle conflict well, especially not one with someone he cares deeply about. after the argument you guys had earlier, he would never suspected that you would sleep else where for the night.

at first, he would brush it off, thinking you just needed some space and that you would return to your shared room soon. but, as the night wore on, he'd find himself restless. constantly tossing and turning unable to lay as comfortably as before now that he was alone. luffy would eventually get up and wander over to your old room.

knowing him he’d poke your face (gently of course) while whispering, "hey, are you still mad at me?" his big eyes would reflect genuine concern and confusion. but because you were asleep you couldn’t respond, so he would get into your bed and curl up next to you, determined to be close even if you were still upset. you’d wake up the next day to a goofy grin and a sincere apology, as he was eager to make things right.

Roronoa Zoro

arguments with zoro are often intense but short-lived. so when you decide to sleep separately after a fight, zoro (like luffy) would be taken aback. however he, unlike luffy, would initially be too proud to go after you. so instead he’d brood silently, replaying the argument in his head while sharpening his swords.

you were the dramatic one. right?

as the night deepened, his stoic façade would crack, causing the gnawing sense of regret to seep in. he’d eventually get up, quietly making his way to your old room.

“babe?” his voice was uncharacteristically soft cautiously enters the room. after seeing your sleeping figure his demeanor immediately softens.

without a word, he'd lie down on the floor next to your bed, his presence a silent apology. he would wake up before you like usual but after breakfast he would pull you aside giving you a gruff but sincere apology, his actions speaking louder than his words.

God Ussop

usopp is sensitive and prone to overthinking. after any argument, he'd probably be filled with anxiety and self-doubt. which would worsen after you decide to sleep separately. he'd pace around, muttering to himself and crafting elaborate scenarios in his head of what this could mean.

is this it?

do you not love him anymore?

were you going to break up with him?

eventually, he'd muster the courage to approach you, armed with a heartfelt speech. ready to kneel beside you and pour his heart out with the promise to do better. but after walking to your old room and seeing you sleep so soundly his resolve would soften. not wanting to wake you he would leave telling himself that he’d apologize in the morning.

instead of going to bed though he would go to his factory deciding to make you a small gift to show his sincerity. he would place that along with a short an apology letter by your door. hoping to give you a better apology in the morning.

Vinsmoke Sanji

sanji would be devastated if you chose to sleep separately after an argument. unlike usopp, he wouldn’t overthink it. he knows you love him just needed some space. despite thinking that, he would never let you go to sleep upset especially not at him.

so he'd spend the majority of the night in the kitchen, preparing ingredients for tomorrow and making you a midnight snack.

with a tray of food on hand he’d softly knocks on the door of your old bedroom, his voice both gentle and cautious. “my love? i brought food. can i come in so we can talk?”

your lights were on so he knew you were up, after waiting for a minute or so he would let out a relieved sigh as you opened the door and making room for him to enter.

you guys would spend the rest of the night talking about your argument except this time with a much clearer head. once he knew that you both were on the same page he would bring you back to your share room to sleep.

—————

hi guys! thanks for reading, this is my first attempt at writing hc so idk if i did it right lol but it was fun!! i also have a couple more characters in my draft using this idea. i’ll post them if this does well (fingers crossed).

part 2 is posted!!

[httpsserene]

Lando smut driveroom after hia dnf🫠🫠

𝐝𝐧𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬

summary: what goes down in their driver’s room with you after a dnf. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. hurt/comfort (in a way). sexual propositions. angry sex (implied). depressed charles. mercedes f1 team slander. sir kink. periods. face-sitting, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, blowjobs, cunnilingus, shower sex (light or implied). pairing: the grid x fem!reader (1,4,16,44,55,81) genre: drabbles.

from serene: river baby, this one’s for you xxx we all know what inspired this one lmao !!! oh, i will not be doing extended fics for any of these, they are just quick drabbles as a little writing exercise for me! (okay, okay, okay, fine i’ll finish toasty part two i promise it'll be released soon)

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𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐱 #𝟏

You’ve never found Max’s skill for talking endlessly annoying or draining. In fact, you can recall telling him that hearing him eagerly explain about racing or other topics that interest him is attractive, multiple times. However, you’re not sure if you can withstand much more of him rambling through a retelling of every single lap he raced before he had to retire, looking for any possible point where he could’ve done something different to prevent it. 

The two of you are sitting on his small couch, pressed side to side, and you’re offering small nods of agreement and hums of understanding during his pauses between words that echo in the small private room. His helmet was shoved in a random cubby, his balaclava draped on top of it but, he hasn’t made any other progress in taking off his race gear. His gloves are still covering his hands as he fiddles with the straps around his wrists, his race suit and boots still properly secured, the smell of sweat and gasoline–the scent of man alluring to your nose–the heat of his body radiating against your side instigating the warmth that floods your cheeks, and the sound of his lisp curling seductively around his speech prompting less than pure thoughts as your heart flutters and thighs press together.

Max is unaware of the sudden twist in your thoughts as he verbally attempts to calculate just exactly where he could’ve improved his outcome, his voice rumbly with an undertone of displeasure, when you cut him off.

“Let me make it better,” you offer.

The Dutch driver cocks his head at you, his expression confused and humored, “How can you make my DNF better? I do not think you can go back in time and—”

“No, Max,” you interrupt, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently, “Let me sit on your face.”

Visibly, you see his breath catch and eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response, tongue flicking out to dampen his lips as he thinks—before his pupils blow large, and he swallows audibly.

“Oh,” Max starts, finally tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the floor, then moving to undo the strap of his race suit, “That would make it better.”

𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 #𝟒

He’s pacing the small length of the room angrily, ranting about his retirement loudly enough that you know it’s seeping through the thin walls. You stare at him with a slightly concerned gaze, getting slightly annoyed as his race suit tied low on his hips threatens to smack you in the face every time he turns around. 

You’re well aware that Lando is quick to anger and brood as he freely makes everyone aware of where the blame needs to be placed. But, the dark and unyielding look in his eyes leads you to believe that he’ll be a little too real to the press today and you would hate to have to deal with a simultaneously enraged and ashamed Lando once he realizes what he said. Then, you’ll have to comfort him as he overthinks his words and doom scrolls through Twitter to see what people are saying about him. You would like to sleep tonight, so you can’t have him embarrass himself today. Thankfully, Lando’s a man, a very simple man at his core. 

You stand up from the couch and pull off his hoodie that you stole. Lando continues to rage and pace, not aware of your movement. You undo the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off to stand in your bra and jeans. Lando doesn’t notice your state of undress until he spins around to find you topless and shimmying your jeans down your hips.

“Um,” Lando stutters, eyes fixed on your tits, “Why are your clothes off?”

“Get over here and fuck your anger out,” you command, “So when you talk to the press, you don’t say the stupid shit you're telling me now.”

Lando mumbles and pouts offended as he scrambles to lose his race suit, “‘s not stupid shit.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug him forward strongly, humming as the length of his body knocks against yours, easily stuffing your hand down his fireproofs and kissing on the meat of his neck, “mhm–I’m sure it isn’t.”

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 #𝟏𝟔

The room is silent as Charles blankly stares at the wall, you’re not sure if he is aware of your hand comfortingly scratching along his back. He only offered words of exhaustion and depression as he slipped quietly into his room and curled next to you as he dissociated from his retirement.

You’ve tried everything. You cooed soothingly, you complained about the result, and you even loudly expressed how terrible you think the car and Ferrari are and he didn’t say a single word. He simply continued to stare at the wall, his suit and helmet still on, visor down, and expression unreadable. Anxiously, you shifted next to him, not used to experiencing Charles this out of it. And suddenly, the idea came to you. Breaking the silence, you suggested giving him head to relieve his stress. Charles said no. Your brow furrowed perplexed at his denial; he’s never rejected a blowjob before. You took it one step further and offered to let him fuck it out of you (you were previously adamant on the “no sex in the driver’s room” rule because sound carries), and you were sure the Monegasque was about to say yes before he shook his head violently like he was forcibly removing the thought, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t deserve it.” 

That is something you will not let slide. Charles doesn’t need to punish himself after he’s already out of the race, but if he won’t allow himself to indulge in you, you’ll strongly encourage him to.

“Okay, Charlie,” you whisper, “If you’re sure.”

He doesn’t zone back in until he hears your whimpers seep into the air, snapping his head to look at you. He finds you with one hand tugging at your nipple and your other hand shoved under your skirt—from the movement, he can guess that you’re two fingers deep. You hear Charles choke audibly and you can’t help but toss your head back and giggle, the laughter turning into a moan of pleasure as your fingers pass over a sensitive spot.

“I-I think–merde,” Charles cuts himself off as he stares at your show, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The helmet stays on.

𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 #𝟒𝟒

You’re unsure if Lewis is even mad about his retirement. The man seems mentally deranged as he laughs gleefully about ending his race early. Understandably, he is complaining about the bottoming of the car and the hell it’s wreaking on his back–so, maybe the joy is justifiable, your man is…older.

The thing is, Lewis switches from rambling about his back pain to complaining about Mercedes and repeating how he can’t wait for a change in scenery at Ferrari. In the Mercedes motorhome. Loudly. You know he’s doing it on purpose based on the vengeful look in his eyes. He recalls almost every single moment the team dismissed his critiques and suggestions, every single moment they didn’t appear at his podiums, every single moment they thought he wouldn’t leave, every single moment they took him for granted. And, Lewis is more than welcome to express his grievances—but you would still like him to leave on good terms as Toto did promise you a custom G-Wagon (not that Lewis can’t get you one himself; you would just hate to see him ruin his connections).

Lewis also can’t help being hot. He sits comfortably splayed out on his couch, a towel tied loosely on his hips from his shower, chest bare as beads of water fall downwards and get caught in the maze of his toned abdomen, his tattoos become art pieces as you appreciate the sight fully. He continues to partake in his amusing one-man conversation as he clasps his chain around his neck—and you break.

“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing, surprised at your own words, “...sir?”

Lewis pauses, raising an eyebrow at you from where you’re leaning on the room door. 

“Well, I don’t know why you’re still standing over there if that’s what you want. Kneel.”

The sound of your knees hitting the floor sings in the air, “Yes, sir.”

𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢, 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 #𝟖𝟏

Oscar’s already sequestered himself away in his room before you were able to intercept him on his way. The mechanics are lowly gossiping about how mad he was when he pulled himself out of the car and they watch after you in fear as you make your way to your boyfriend.

Oscar? Mad? He’d never take it out on you, there’s no reason for the mechanics to be worried. Except when you enter the room, the vibes are peculiar. Oscar’s calmly folding his race suit, boots tucked away into their proper place, standing in just his fireproofs—they compliment his body well, extremely well. He turns to look at you and there’s a smile on his face as if he hasn’t retired from a race. He opens his arms for a hug, and you hesitate for a moment before fulfilling his request. His arms wrap around you warmly and he nuzzles his face into your hair, pulling back briefly to press a kiss on your forehead before tightening his embrace. It feels more like he’s comforting you than you’re comforting him. He walks the two of you backward to his couch and pulls you down to sit on his lap. 

Somehow, Oscar brightens more, “Hi, baby,” he grins, hands moving to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Uhh, I’m sorry about your race?” Your tone of voice is unsure.

“Oh,” he laughs dismissively, “It happens sometimes–it was listed in the job description.” His right hand slips underneath your shirt as he speaks, moving calmly to tug the cups of your bra down underneath your chest, squeezing lightly at the plush weight in his hand. 

You’re convinced he’s severely concussed, but it doesn’t stop you from arching towards him, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, “Ummm— ‘s there a-anything I can do to help?”

Oscar’s hand draws out of your shirt and halts the grind of your hips in a flash, he coos at you, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you to offer…let me fuck your tits—please?”

What were you going to do, tell him no?

𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 #𝟓𝟓

You’re going to slam your head on the corner of the sink and hope it knocks you out. You’ll do it if means the sounds of Carlos’ whining stop. He forcibly pulled you up on the counter of the sink and told you to stay put as he showered so he could talk it out to you.

Naively, you thought the sound of the shower running would muffle his words and you were wrong. On any other day, you would be fine to support him through his complaints but your period is due to start in a couple of days and the irritation and sore muscles are already affecting you. Originally, you were eager to watch Carlos shower—that’s a sight plenty of women and men alike would kill you for. Then, the glass fogged with steam depriving you of something to ogle. And, if there’s one thing a woman is experiencing besides pain, sensitivity, and anger before her period, it’s being horny. You rationalize your thought process as you get undressed; Carlos gets some stress relief and you get to hear moans and grunts of pleasure instead of his huffing, grumbling, and whining. 

You slide the glass door open and closed as you step in the shower, completely bare except for the necklaces, earrings, and anklet with the #55 charm he gifted you randomly, “Carlos, por favor, be quiet.”

The Spanish man’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, frozen in the middle of his motion of scrubbing soap along his arm, “¿Qué?”

You roll your eyes, tugging the soapy cloth out of his hand and setting it on the shower shelf, “There’s better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Carlos blinks, returning to the present and sinking to his knees in the too-small shower. 

He stares up at you with his big, sweet, lust-drenched, brown eyes, his hair a mess from the spray of the shower, and his voice cracking as he speaks, “Yes, definitely.”

© httpsserene2024

[hearts4johnwick]

— CASUAL.

SUMMARY. you’re mad at tyler after an argument, he decides to win you over by bringing in your favorite food and taking you to a rodeo, when you think that his charm was working, an EF-4 tornado strikes.

WARNINGS. angst (happy ending though), tornado attack.

WORD COUNT. 1.2k

you were lying down in your bed, attempting to go to sleep or at least take a nap given that it was 8:21 p.m. you found yourself staring at the ceiling, listening to the music and people singing outside.

you can’t help but toss and turn around as you overthink about the argument you had with tyler. tyler was your best friend, childhood neighbor, situationship, you don’t even know at this point. and although tyler and you were always risk takers, some risks are too hard for you to handle, but boone and tyler are a dangerous duo.

when you graduated high school you went straight to college and studied meteorology, you didn’t waste another second of your life and did everything that it took to where you are now. but, tyler and you were separated for college, you were halfway across the country while he stayed in his hometown. but when you graduated college, you went back home.

the both of you caught up on everything each other missed, and next thing you know, you ended up joining tyler’s storm-chasing team, the thing is, by something that happened to you in the past, you always rode alongside Dexter and Dani, there were moments where you rode with tyler, but you were always harnassed up even if you weren’t inside the tornado yet.

your train of thoughts were so rudely interrupted by the knock at your door. you sit up and take a breath before walking over to the door. before opening it, you were thinking to yourself that maybe it was going to be your mother, or your sister, not tyler owens. he sees the expression on your face and smiles, attempting to cheer you up.

“hey…” your nose flares, he notices and chuckles. “i brought your favorite… Tina Mae’s chocolate pie…” he hands it over to you and you take it. “maybe if you let me in we can sha—“ his words were cut off by the door slamming on his face. his eyebrows raised and he froze.

you put the pie on the desk next to your bed and open the bag, and it is indeed your favorite chocolate pie. you smile to yourself and head back to the door, as expected, tyler was still there.

“if you think you’re always gonna take me back with my favorite food, you’re wrong.” i inhale sharply and tap on the door.

“well, i wanted to do it another way if you’d let me show you…” you raise your eyebrows and cringe. “no—no, not like that, well…” he cocks an eyebrow and glances at you, you were about to close the door again but he stops it. “no, hey, i’m serious. get changed i want to take you somewhere.” he smiles. you hum and close the door gently so you can get changed.

“you can’t be serious. do you want me to forgive you or hate you more, tyler owens?” you say as you take your seats in the rodeo’s benches.

“bit of both.” he smiles, and you chuckle whilst shaking your head. “look, y/n, i’m sorry.”

“you’re apologizing here? rea—“ tyler touches your knee softly, cutting you off.

“i’m sorry, sorry for what i said earlier. i shouldn’t have said those things. you’ve been through so many things i can’t even begin to imagine, and it wasn’t my place to say anything about that. you know i would never do anything to hurt you, i am sorry.” the soft glow in his eye made you feel the truth he was saying. you nod and smile.

“and why would you ever think i wouldn’t forgive you?” tyler smiles at your words and so do you. “i think i should be the one apologizing, i tried to stop you from doing something you gave years of experience, and that was out of place and overprotective and unnecessary.”

“no, no, it’s okay. you of all people know about these stupid risks i take, i was a bull rider for God’s sake! I know you hated that.” you laugh.

“yeah, i think i hated that more than storm chasing.” he chuckles and glances at you, there was a small silence until you broke it. “i just… i don’t want to lose you, ty.”

“you’re never going to lose me.” you look over at him, your eyes stinging as you feel some tears coming. he wraps an arm around you and holds you. “you won’t.” he reassures you nod and after a while, let go.

“you and that stupid face…” you look away, trying to hide a smile.

“wait what?”

“every time i was cleaning blood off of you, whenever you got knocked off your bull, you would always make that stupid face, or like look at me some way like you were trying to get me to kiss you.” he raises an eyebrow and you look at him again.

“oh, you mean my charm? i already come with it, it’s not something i do on command.” you roll your eyes and click your tongue.

“well, “your charm” has never worked on me. never has, never will.” the two of you share a soft smile, all while maintaining that potent eye contact.

you don’t know if it was the tension, but you had sudden goosebumps and started getting chilly. although your hair was in a ponytail, your bangs were getting in the way, you never took your eyes off of tyler’s but you could see his hair starting to get messy too.

“well, i don’t know about you but, i think it’s working pretty well now.” he moves the strands of hair out of your face and tucks it gently behind your ear before cupping your cheeks.

“about time.” you manage to let out seconds before his lips are on yours. your heart was racing the whole time, but you felt it could come out of your chest any second now.

the kiss started slow and gentle, but the moment you smiled into it, tyler deepened the kiss, you placed your hand behind his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, which made you notice how much his hair was moving around, as much as it pained you doing it, you pulled away and saw people walking away from the stands. you look around and pick up a leaf from the ground.

tyler notices and the two of you exchange a look. you both stand up and head for shelter, you feel the winds get stronger and that’s when you start to run, helping some people who have tripped along the way, but not wasting more than a second.

tyler and you managed to find a motel and in that motel an empty pool, where you sought shelter until the tornado passed over you. at that moment tyler had to help a man that had twisted his ankle, and a vending machine was blocking his way, due to the man panicking, he was gone.

tyler hid with you and another family of a mother and her daughter. the grip you had on tyler and that he had on you was like no other. you felt tyler plant kisses on your head to calm you down as you felt the tornado right above you, you held onto some pipes and his arms tightly, fearing for your life at that very moment.

when the tornado passed, you didn’t even want to let go of tyler, you hugged him and stayed with his arm wrapped around you the whole night, even when you shared your bed with him.

❛i know, “baby, no attachment.” but we’re… ❜

i have a ‘Twisters’ fic on wattpad if y’all wanna check it out! https://www.wattpad.com/story/374563132?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=hearts4johnwick ᥫ᭡

[won4kiss]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────TO ALL THE BOYS I’VE LOVED BEFORE.

SYPNOSiS. you and park sunghoon were close friends until high school changed things. when your best friend began dating him, you realized your feelings for sunghoon ran deeper than friendship—a letter you wrote a long time ago makes its way to park sunghoon, what will happen when he asks you to fake date him? could you ignore your past feelings or will this go horribly wrong.. INSPIRED BY TATBILB.

୨୧ PAiRING. ex-bestfriend’s ex boyfriend! park sunghoon x fem! reader, jock! sunghoon x academic! reader.

୨୧ GENRE. highschool romance, fake dating, mostly fluff, very minimal angst. non!idol au. she fell first, he fell harder, happy ending!!

୨୧ WARNiNGS. profanities, kissing, karina being annoying ngl.. yn being indecisive, overthinking, not proofread.

୨୧ WORD COUNT. 10,456 / 10.4K

𝓟𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟i𝗦𝗧 ﹕ i like me better, lauv, goodnight n go, ariana grande, boyfriend, ariana grande, new romantics, taylor swift, somebody to you, the vamps, fine line, harry styles, japanese denim, daniel caesar.

NOTE. thank u guys sm for all the support on the teaser!! i’m not too happy with this but i hope u guys enjoy reading this ^^ i literally love the movies sm so i HAD to write smt for tatbilb ☝️🤓 i strongly recommend reading the teaser before this!!

LiBRARY | © WON4KISS all rights reserved

IT’S JUST AN ORDINARY AFTERNOON, OR SO YOU THINK.

you’re in your room, organizing the clutter on your desk that’s been piling up for years—old notebooks, random receipts, ticket stubs from movies you don’t even remember watching.

a wave of nostalgia hits as you sift through bits and pieces of your past—buried beneath a pile of loose papers, you find it: the letter. that letter.

the one you wrote to park sunghoon all those years ago.

your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the crinkled envelope, your heart beating faster as memories rush back. you’d almost forgotten about it—almost.

with your hands trembling, you pick up the letter, reading the words scribbled across the front.

his name, written in your messy handwriting, brings back a flood of feelings you thought you’d buried for good.

this letter holds all the emotions you couldn’t say out loud. it’s a part of you—a vulnerable, painful part that you’ve kept locked away for years.

you’re tempted to rip it apart, to destroy it like you should have back then.

but before you can make a decision, your phone buzzes on the desk beside you.

a message notification from your younger sibling—who’s supposed to be helping with errands—pulls your attention away.

“hey, can you drop off the mail for me? i left a bunch of letters on the kitchen counter. thanks!”

you groan, glancing at the clock—you don’t really have the time to run errands right now, but you suppose it won’t take long.

tossing the letter back into the pile, you get up, grab the stack of letters from the kitchen, and head to the mailbox.

the evening air is cool, and you take a deep breath, trying to clear your head.

it’s just a letter, you remind yourself. it’s in the past—sunghoon is in the past. he and karina are in the past.

you drop the letters into the mailbox without a second thought.

it isn’t until much later—when you’re getting ready for bed—that the realization hits you like a punch to the gut.

the letter—sunghoon’s letter.

panic floods your chest as you bolt upright, your heart pounding in your ears.

you scramble to your desk, frantically shuffling through the papers, looking for the envelope. but it’s not there. it’s gone.

you feel sick.

“no, no, no…” you whisper to yourself, your mind racing in denial.

you couldn’t have misplaced it could you?

you had placed it in the pile, the pile you just dropped into the mailbox. the letter—the one meant for no one—is on its way to park sunghoon.

the next morning, you’re a mess.

you hardly slept, your mind replaying every worst-case scenario over and over.

what’s going to happen when sunghoon reads the letter? will he think you’re some weirdo still pining after him? will he laugh at how pathetic you must seem?

you can’t stop the panic from rising, no matter how much you try to calm yourself down.

by the time you’re at school, you feel like a bundle of nerves, anxiety if it were a physical form.

you avoid everyone, keeping your head low as you rush to your first class, hoping to make it through the day unnoticed.

but fate doesn’t seem to care about your plans.

you’re at your locker, rifling through your books, when you feel someone approach you from behind.

the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. slowly, you turn around, and your stomach drops— park sunghoon is standing right there.

his tall figure leans casually against the lockers, his eyes locked on yours, unreadable.

you’ve seen that cool, calm expression a million times before, but now it makes your palms sweat.

“hey,” he says, his voice smooth and silky, just like always.

you blink, trying to keep your expression neutral. “oh…hey, sunghoon.”

he’s quiet for a moment, and the tension in the air thickens—you can tell he’s holding something back.

finally, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the letter. your letter.

“so—uh..i got this in the mail yesterday.”

your blood runs cold as your eyes lock onto the familiar envelope in his hand. the world feels like it’s tilting, and all you can think is, this isn’t happening. this can’t be happening.

“i wasn’t expecting something like this,” he says, raising an eyebrow, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “you wanna explain?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out.

what are you even supposed to say? that it was a mistake? that you didn’t mean to send it? that the feelings you wrote about years ago were just a phase, long since forgotten?

sunghoon waits, watching you with that calm, intense gaze that makes your pulse race.

he’s not giving anything away, not yet. you can’t tell if he’s mad or confused or if he’s just messing with you.

but you know one thing: he’s not letting this go.

finally, you manage to speak. “i… i didn’t mean for you to see that.”

sunghoon tilts his head, looking intrigued. “no?”

“no,” you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it was a long time ago. i wrote it…a while back. i never meant to send it.”

there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe?—but he doesn’t let it show for long. “so…you don’t feel this way anymore?”

you freeze.

how do you even answer that? the truth is…complicated—you hadn’t thought about those feelings for a long time, at least not consciously.

you thought you were over it—over him. but now, standing here with him holding your deepest secrets in his hands, all those old emotions are bubbling up to the surface, making you second-guess everything.

“i…” you start, but the words stick in your throat.

sunghoon watches you closely, his gaze sharp and focused. it’s the same look he used to give you when you were younger, the look that said he could see right through you.

he always knew when something was bothering you. he always knew you.

“you don’t have to answer right now,” he says, his voice softer than before. “but…we need to talk about this. you can’t just drop something like this on me and expect me to ignore it.”

you nod, feeling your stomach churn—you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you stay silent, hoping the ground will open up and swallow you whole.

but sunghoon doesn’t move. he just keeps standing there, holding the letter between his fingers, as if waiting for something.

then, as if sensing your discomfort, he sighs and folds the letter, tucking it back into his jacket.

“look, y/n,” he says, his tone more relaxed now, “i’m not mad or anything. it’s just…unexpected.”

you nod again, your throat dry.

sunghoon pushes off the lockers, taking a step closer, his presence is overwhelming, making your heart race.

“we’ll figure this out,” he says, his voice low and steady. “but for now, let’s just…talk later. after school?”

you swallow hard, nodding once more. “yeah. after school.”

he gives you a small, reassuring smile before turning and walking down the hallway, leaving you standing there, dazed and overwhelmed.

your mind is spinning, replaying everything that just happened, and all you can think is: what now?

the day feels like a blur after your confrontation with sunghoon.

every class drags on as your mind races through every possible outcome of that letter being in his hands.

when you get called on during your calculus class, you barely manage a coherent answer, your usual sharpness dulled by the storm in your head.

normally, being the top student in your class—the one everyone goes to for homework help or notes—gives you some confidence.

but right now, nothing seems to calm your nerves—not even acing the quiz that’s handed back to you.

all you can think about is what sunghoon wants to “talk about” after school.

you’re already dreading it when the final bell rings.

as you head toward the meeting spot—outside the gym, where you know sunghoon will be after practice—you can’t stop the tight knot forming in your stomach.

the hallway buzzes with activity, people passing by in crowds—athletes are huddled in groups, chatting loudly about the upcoming game, and among them is sunghoon—blending in perfectly.

he’s talking to his friends, tall and confident in his varsity jacket, his hair slightly messy from practice.

the sight of him makes your chest tighten—he’s the type of guy who seems to have it all: popularity, athletic skill, and that natural charm that draws people in.

you, on the other hand, are the complete opposite—known for your academics rather than your social life.

the two of you haven’t even spoken in years, not since that rift grew between you after his breakup with karina.

and now, you’re about to dive into a conversation that could make things a hundred times more awkward.

you stand a few feet away, hesitating, until sunghoon notices you.

he gives you a small, almost secret smile, and breaks away from his group, leaving his teammates behind.

“hey,” he says casually, as if the two of you talk every day.

you manage a shaky smile. “hey.”

sunghoon gestures for you to follow him around the corner, where it’s quieter, away from the lingering crowd.

the tension between you is thick, and the air feels charged with unspoken things.

you hug your books closer to your chest, trying to find the right words, but it’s sunghoon who speaks first.

“i thought about what you said earlier,” he starts, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

his expression is serious, but not in an intimidating way—more like he’s trying to work through something in his head.

“and i get that the letter was from a long time ago, but…i think there’s something we could both get out of this.”

your brows knit in confusion. “what do you mean?” sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“look, ever since the breakup with karina, i’ve been getting a lot of…questions. people keep assuming things, especially with you being involved, since you were friends with her. it’s getting annoying.”

you frown, not liking where this is going. “what kind of things?”

he shrugs, but his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. “people think you’re the reason we broke up.”

your heart skips a beat. “what—me?”

“yeah,” he says, his tone casual, but you can see the weight behind his words. “there’s this rumor that i broke up with her because of you. that we had this…thing going on behind her back.”

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “that’s ridiculous. i barely even talked to you after you guys got together.”

“i know,” he says, his eyes softening. “but you know how high school is. people talk.”

you groan, rubbing your temple. this is exactly the kind of drama you’ve always tried to avoid, keeping your head down and focusing on school.

“so…what does this have to do with the letter?”

sunghoon straightens up, his gaze sharp. “i think we can use this to our advantage.”

“use…what?” you ask, your voice wary.

he gestures between the two of you. “the rumors. the letter. look, if people already think there was something between us, then why not just lean into it? we could pretend to date for a while. it’d shut people up, and i wouldn’t have to keep explaining myself to every person who asks about karina. and maybe it’ll get people off your back too.”

you blink at him, processing his words. “you want to pretend to date? like…fake dating?”

he nods like an excited puppy, as if it’s the most logical solution in the world. “exactly. it’d be easier for both of us. we’d keep it simple—just enough to make people believe it.”

your mind reels at the suggestion—you’ve seen this happen in movies, read about it in books, but this is real life.

and the idea of pretending to date sunghoon feels…absurd. sure, it might get people to stop talking about karina and his breakup, but what about you?

you’ve spent years keeping your feelings buried, and now he wants to parade around as if you’re together? that sounds like a recipe for disaster.

“sunghoon,” you start, your voice cautious, “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.

“because it’s…weird,” you say, struggling to find the right words. “we haven’t even been friends for years. what makes you think anyone would believe we’re suddenly dating?”

he smirks, leaning in slightly. “because we used to be close. people know that. it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.”

you bite your lip, still unconvinced. “but…what’s the point? i mean, won’t it just make things worse when people find out it’s fake?”

he shrugs again, that easygoing confidence still radiating from him. “maybe. but by then, it won’t matter. they’ll have moved on to the next piece of gossip. besides, it’s not like we’d have to keep it up forever. just long enough for things to blow over.”

you hesitate, your mind spinning with possibilities.

on one hand, the thought of faking a relationship with sunghoon makes your stomach churn with anxiety.

but on the other hand…it could solve a lot of problems—maybe it would keep people from asking about karina.

maybe it would give you a chance to finally move past all the old feelings that have been resurfacing ever since the letter.

but it’s risky. too risky.

“i don’t know,” you say, your voice uncertain.

sunghoon watches you for a moment, then steps closer, lowering his voice.

“look, i know it’s a lot to ask, but think about it. this could be good for both of us. you wouldn’t have to keep dodging questions about karina, and i wouldn’t have to deal with everyone assuming things about us. plus,” he adds with a slight smirk, “it might even be fun.”

you give him a skeptical look as you scoff in disbelief. “fun?”

he grins, that playful glint in his eyes you remember so well from years ago.

“yeah. i mean, we used to be friends, right? it’s not like we don’t know how to get along. we can make it believable.”

there’s something in the way he’s looking at you, that spark of the old sunghoon—the boy who used to make you laugh, who used to confide in you late at night during sleepovers, before everything got complicated.

for a moment, you’re reminded of how easy things used to be between you two. how natural it felt.

maybe…just maybe, this could work.

you take a deep breath, weighing your options—it’s crazy. it’s beyond risky, but it might be the only way to fix this mess.

and if it’s just pretending, then what’s the harm? you’ll just have to keep your real feelings locked away—like you always have.

“okay,” you say finally, your voice steady. “let’s do it.”

sunghoon’s smile widens, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’ve made the right choice. he holds out his hand. “deal?”

you hesitate for just a second before shaking his hand. “deal.”

the next few days pass in a whirlwind of rumors, whispers, and carefully orchestrated moments.

word spreads fast that you and sunghoon are dating, and the school is buzzing with curiosity.

everyone seems to have their eyes on you—especially since you’re not exactly part of his social circle.

the jock and the ‘nerd’, the golden boy and the brainiac—it’s a combination that no one saw coming.

but you and sunghoon play the part well, you walk together in the hallways, sit next to each other during lunch, and even hang out after school for the occasional “study session.” to everyone else, it looks like the real deal.

you’re careful to keep things light and casual, just like sunghoon said.

no hand-holding or public displays of affection—just enough closeness to make it believable.

but as the days go by, you start to notice little things—the way sunghoon looks at you sometimes, his eyes lingering a bit too long.

the way he laughs at your jokes, even the ones that aren’t particularly funny. and the way your heart skips a beat whenever he smiles at you.

it’s all pretend, of course. it has to be—but sometimes…it feels too real.

as the days turn into weeks, the fake dating plan takes on a life of its own.

you and sunghoon settle into a routine of sorts—walking to class together, sharing lunch, and spending time after school.

it’s strange at first, pretending to be something you’re not, but soon it becomes almost second nature.

you’re surprised at how easy it is to fall into this rhythm with him, despite everything that’s happened between you, there’s a familiarity that lingers, reminding you of how things used to be when you were best friends.

sometimes, when you’re alone with him, it almost feels like no time has passed at all.

but that’s the problem, isn’t it? it’s too easy. too comfortable. and that’s when the lines start to blur.

it starts with the small things. like how he goes out of his way to find you in the mornings before school.

at first, it’s just part of the plan—he says you need to be seen together—but then it becomes something more.

his texts in the evenings aren’t just about “keeping up appearances” anymore; they’re full of little comments about your day, things that make you smile when you’re lying in bed at night, staring at your phone.

and then there are the moments when he touches you.

it’s never anything big or obvious—just his hand brushing against yours as you walk, or his arm slung casually around your shoulder when you’re sitting together during lunch.

each touch sends sparks through your skin, leaving you wondering if he feels it too.

but the biggest change comes one afternoon after school.

you’re sitting in the library, books spread out in front of you as you try to focus on an upcoming exam.

you’ve always been good at studying—quiet places like this are your sanctuary—but today, your mind is elsewhere.

you’re thinking about sunghoon, about the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you, and how it’s making it harder to remember that this is all just pretend.

the sound of footsteps approaching snaps you out of your thoughts.

you glance up to see sunghoon walking toward you, that familiar soft smile on his face.

“hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

you raise an eyebrow. “you do realize this is the library, right? i thought jocks weren’t allowed in here.”

he chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “i’m full of surprises. besides, i thought you might need a break.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face. “i’m studying, hoon. you know, that thing people do when they want to pass their classes?”

he shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “yeah, but you’re already the smartest person in school. you can afford to take a break.”

you sigh, closing your book. “i can’t believe i’m saying this, but fine. what do you want?”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. there’s something different in his eyes today—something softer.

“i was thinking we should go to the movies this weekend.”

you blink in surprise. “the movies?”

“yeah. you know, that place where people go to sit in the dark and pretend they’re not awkwardly sitting next to strangers?”

you narrow your eyes at him in suspicion. “why?”

he shrugs again, but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “why not? we’re supposed to be dating, right? might as well go on an actual date.”

you hesitate, your heart racing. “sunghoon, this was supposed to be lowkey. we agreed we wouldn’t do anything that would make it seem… too real.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just a movie. we’re not getting married or anything.”

you bite your lip, feeling a strange feeling of excitement and anxiety building in your chest.

the idea of going on a date with sunghoon—even a fake one—makes your stomach do flips.

but you remind yourself that this is all part of the plan. it’s not real. it can’t be.

“okay,” you say finally. “but don’t expect me to share my popcorn.”

he grins, his smile lighting up his face. “deal.”

the weekend comes faster than you expected, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of the movie theater, feeling more nervous than you’ve felt in a long time.

you can’t figure out why—this is just a fake date, after all.

but there’s something about the way sunghoon looks when he arrives, wearing a casual jacket and that effortless smile, that makes your heart skip a beat.

“you ready?” he asks, his eyes glinting with amusement.

you nod, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. “yeah. let’s get this over with.”

sunghoon laughs and leads you inside, where you buy tickets and snacks.

you’re still trying to act nonchalant when you sit down in the theater, but the darkness and the closeness between you make it harder to ignore the way your body reacts to his presence.

his arm brushes against yours as he settles into his seat, and you can feel the heat radiating from him.

the movie starts, but you barely pay attention.

your mind is too busy racing through thoughts of sunghoon—how close he is, how easy it would be to just lean into him—your heart pounds in your chest, and you silently curse yourself for letting things get this far.

and then, halfway through the movie, it happens.

sunghoon shifts in his seat, and without thinking, his hand finds yours in the darkness.

his fingers curl around yours, gentle and warm, and for a moment, you freeze—your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

you glance at him, but his eyes are focused on the screen, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

as if holding your hand wasn’t something that would send your mind spiraling.

you tell yourself to pull away, to remind him that this is fake—that this can’t mean anything—but you don’t.

you let your hand stay in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, and for the rest of the movie, you don’t move.

the walk home is quieter than usual, you and sunghoon walk side by side, but there’s a new kind of tension between you.

neither of you mention the hand-holding, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re both trying to pretend it didn’t happen, or if you’re both too afraid to bring it up.

when you reach your house, you stop at the front door, turning to face him. “thanks for the movie,” you say, your voice soft.

sunghoon smiles, but there’s something different in his eyes—something you can’t quite read. “anytime.”

for a moment, you just stand there, unsure of what to do next—there’s a beat of silence, and then, before you can stop yourself, you speak.

“sunghoon…this is all still pretend, right?”

he looks at you, his expression unreadable. “of course.”

you nod, forcing a smile. “good. just wanted to make sure.”

but as you turn to go inside, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed. something you might not be able to control.

the next week is filled with more of the same tension.

every time you and sunghoon are together, it feels like the air is charged with something you can’t quite define.

the lines between what’s real and what’s fake are starting to blur, and you can’t stop thinking about the way his hand felt in yours.

you know you shouldn’t be thinking like this.

this was all supposed to be an act—a way to get people off your backs—but now, with every passing day, it’s becoming harder to keep up the facade.

you’re starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something more going on here, maybe he feels the same way.

and then, one afternoon after school, everything changes.

you’re at your locker, packing up your things, when you hear footsteps approaching.

you glance up to see karina standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on you.

your heart sinks.

it’s the first time you’ve seen her in months, and the look on her face is anything but friendly.

“we need to talk,” she says, her voice cold.

you swallow hard, nodding slowly. “okay.”

karina steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “what the hell is going on between you and sunghoon?”

you freeze, your mind racing—you’ve been so caught up in your fake relationship that you haven’t even thought about how this might look to karina.

she’s your ex-best friend, after all—and sunghoon is her ex.

“i…i don’t know what you mean,” you stammer, but karina isn’t buying it.

“don’t play dumb,” she snaps. “i know something’s going on. you’re always together now. you’re even going on dates.”

you open your mouth to deny it, to explain that it’s all just pretend, but the words die in your throat.

how are you supposed to explain something like this? that you’re fake dating her ex to get people to stop talking about the breakup? that it’s all just a lie?

but before you can say anything, karina cuts you off.

“just…tell me the truth,” she says, her voice softer now. “are you in love with him?”

the question hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

the answer should be simple—no, it’s all fake. but as you stand there, looking into karina’s eyes, you realize that you don’t know the answer anymore.

and that terrifies you.

karina’s question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating, the hallway suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in around you.

your mind races, trying to figure out how to respond.

you’ve spent so long convincing yourself—and everyone else—that this relationship with sunghoon is fake, but now you’re not so sure.

you’re not in love with him… right? you can’t be. this is just pretend. it has to be.

but when you look at karina, her eyes full of hurt and suspicion, something twists in your chest.

you didn’t want to hurt her—yes, it was her who cut you off, but you still cared for her deeply.

you didn’t want to make things complicated, but now, everything feels like it’s spinning out of control.

“i…” your voice cracks, and you bite your lip, struggling to find the words. “karina, it’s not like that.”

she narrows her eyes, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “then what is it like? because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’ve been sneaking around with sunghoon behind my back.”

you shake your head quickly. “no, no. it’s not like that at all. we’re not—” you stop, realizing that you can’t just blurt out the truth.

that it’s all fake. it would make everything worse, wouldn’t it? how could karina understand that this whole thing started as a way to avoid drama? you know you need to tread carefully.

“we’re not sneaking around,” you say finally, choosing your words carefully. “it just kind of…happened. but it’s not what you think.”

karina’s expression softens for a moment, and she looks at you with a mix of confusion and hurt.

“then what is it? were you planning this while we were friends? i thought we were friends back then. best friends.”

you flinch at her words, the guilt hitting you hard—there was a time when you and karina were inseparable, when she was the one you confided in about everything—except your feelings for sunghoon.

and that’s what ruined everything, isn’t it? you never told her how you felt about him. you kept it buried, hoping it would disappear, but it didn’t.

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” you say quietly. “i never meant for any of this to happen. after you and sunghoon broke up, i thought… i thought it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

karina lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“well, it does matter. and now i’m stuck watching my ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend play house together like none of it ever meant anything.”

her words sting, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond.

part of you wants to explain everything—to tell her that this was all just fake, that none of it is real.

but there’s another part of you, a part that’s starting to realize that maybe, there’s more truth to this fake relationship than you want to admit.

before you can say anything else, karina steps back, her face hardening. “just…do me a favor, okay? be honest with yourself. if you’re in love with him, own it. don’t pretend it’s all some game. because it’s not.”

with that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

you spend the rest of the day in a daze, karina’s words echoing in your mind.

be honest with yourself—how are you supposed to do that when you don’t even know what’s real anymore?

sunghoon hasn’t said anything about the way things have been between you lately, but you can feel it—the shift.

the way he looks at you differently, the way his touches linger just a little too long, the way he seems to genuinely care about what’s going on in your life.

it’s more than just pretending now—at least for you.

but the big question for you is: does he feel the same way? or is this all in your head?

later that evening, you’re sitting in your room, staring blankly at your textbooks, when your phone buzzes on the desk—it’s a message from sunghoon.

“wanna grab ice cream? need a break from all this studying.”

you hesitate, staring at the screen, the last thing you want is to spend time with him right now, not when everything feels so confusing.

but part of you knows that avoiding him won’t solve anything—if anything, you need to confront this head-on.

you need to figure out what’s going on between you, whether it’s real or not.

“sure,” you text back, your heart thudding in your chest.

the ice cream parlor is quiet when you arrive, the soft buzzing of the freezer and the scent of sugar filling the air.

sunghoon is already there, sitting at a booth in the corner with two cones in front of him.

he grins when he sees you, waving you over.

“i got your favorite,” he says, pushing a cone of double scooped strawberry ice-cream towards you.

you smile, sliding into the booth across from him. “thanks.”

for a moment, everything feels normal again. the two of you sit there, eating ice cream and talking about nothing in particular—school, classes, his upcoming game.

it’s easy, comfortable, just like it used to be—but underneath the surface, there’s something simmering, something that’s been building for weeks.

you decide to break the silence, you couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer.

“sunghoon,” you say, setting your cone down. “we need to talk.”

he raises an eyebrow, but there’s no surprise in his eyes. it’s like he’s been expecting this.

“about what?” he asks, though you can tell he already knows what you’re going to say.

you take a deep breath, your fingers fiddling with the napkin in front of you. “about… us.”

sunghoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

his expression is unreadable, but there’s a stiffness in his posture that wasn’t there before.

“what about us?” he asks, his voice quiet.

you hesitate, trying to find the right words. “this whole fake dating thing… it’s starting to feel like more than just a game.”

his eyes flicker with something—surprise? amusement? you can’t tell.

“go on,” he says, his voice softer now.

you bite your lip, the words catching in your throat. “i guess what i’m trying to say is… i don’t know if i can keep pretending. it’s getting harder to tell what’s real and what’s not.”

there. you’ve said it. you’ve put everything out in the open, and now all you can do is wait for his response.

for a moment, sunghoon is silent, his eyes locked on yours—the tension between you is almost unbearable, the air thick with unspoken words.

finally, he lets out a soft sigh, leaning forward.

“i’ve been thinking the same thing,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you think you’ve misheard him. “you have?”

he nods, his eyes searching yours. “yeah. at first, this was just supposed to be for show, but… i don’t know. it doesn’t feel fake anymore. not to me, at least.”

your breath catches in your throat. “so… what does that mean?”

sunghoon reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. his touch is warm, steady, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“i think it means that maybe we should stop pretending,” he says softly. “and figure out what this really is.”

you stare at him, your mind racing. is this really happening? is sunghoon—your fake boyfriend, your old best friend, karina’s ex—actually saying that he wants something real?

“are you sure?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiles, that familiar playful glint in his eyes. “yeah, pretty. i’m sure.”

the rest of the evening passes in a blur.—you and sunghoon talk—really talk—for the first time in weeks, peeling back the layers of your fake relationship and exposing the real feelings that have been hiding underneath.

it feels strange, scary even, to admit that you’ve both developed feelings for each other. but it also feels…right.

when he walks you home later that night, the air between you is light, free of the tension that’s been building for so long.

as you stand on your front porch, there’s a moment of hesitation—an awkward pause where neither of you knows what to do next.

but then, without saying a word, sunghoon steps closer, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft glint in his eyes.

your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers linger against your skin.

and then, before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his.

the kiss is soft, hesitant at first, but it quickly deepens, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer.

it’s like everything you’ve been holding back—the tension, the uncertainty, the feelings you’ve been too afraid to admit—finally breaks free.

when you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“that didn’t feel fake,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

you laugh softly, your hands still resting against his chest. “no. it didn’t.”

the next morning, you wake up with a strange sense of peace.

for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel like you’re pretending—you don’t have to put on a show anymore, don’t have to act like your feelings for sunghoon are anything less than real.

but as you get ready for school, there’s still a small voice in the back of your mind—a nagging worry about what happens next.

how will people react when they find out that your “fake” relationship has turned real? and more importantly…how will karina take it?

you push those thoughts aside as you walk into school, determined not to let anything ruin the fragile happiness you’ve found with sunghoon.

but as soon as you step into the hallway, you realize that avoiding the truth isn’t going to be that easy.

because standing by your locker, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, is karina yet again.

the moment you see karina standing at your locker, your heart drops.

her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowed in a way that tells you she knows.

she knows that whatever you had with sunghoon, fake or not, is no longer just a game.

there’s no avoiding this confrontation now—you’ve already crossed the line, and karina is here to make you deal with the fallout.

you brace yourself for what’s to come, walking toward her with your head held high.

inside, though, your stomach twists into knots—you’ve always hated confrontation, and this one feels worse than any argument you’ve ever had before.

“hi,” you say cautiously when you reach her, trying to sound calm.

but karina’s face is unreadable, her eyes cold as they lock onto yours.

“so are you two serious now?” she asks, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.

you flinch, feeling the weight of her words hit you—you expected her to be angry, maybe even furious, but this—this quiet, detached version of karina—is worse.

it’s like she’s shutting down, not giving you a chance to explain or apologize.

you take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “karina, i didn’t plan for any of this to happen. it just—”

“it just what?” she cuts you off, her voice rising slightly. “it just happened? you didn’t plan on falling for him, but you did anyway?”

you bite your lip, unsure of what to say—she’s right. you didn’t plan for any of this, but that doesn’t make it any less painful for her.

and it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty.

“i really didn’t want to hurt you,” you say softly, but the words feel empty, even to you.

karina lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.“you know, for a long time, i thought we could go back to how things used to be. that we could just…move past everything. but i guess i was wrong.”

she looks at you, her eyes filled with disappointment. “i thought you were my best friend. but you’ve been hiding this the whole time, you didn’t even have the decency to tell me that you saw him that way.”

your heart clenches painfully in your chest. “karina, i wasn’t lying. i didn’t know—”

“didn’t know what?” she snaps. “that you had feelings for sunghoon? that you were using him to make me jealous? or did you just not care about how i’d feel once you finally admitted the truth?”

tears sting the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to break down here, in the middle of the hallway.

“please—it wasn’t like that, i swear.”

karina stares at you for a long moment, her expression softening slightly. “maybe it wasn’t. but it doesn’t matter anymore. you made your choice.”

with that, she turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, a hollow ache settling in your chest.

you want to run after her, to fix things, but you know deep down that this isn’t something that can be fixed with an apology.

you’ve lost her for good now—your best friend—and you don’t know if you’ll ever get her back.

later that day, you’re sitting with sunghoon at lunch, but the usual lightness between you is gone.

you’re distracted, your mind still replaying the conversation with karina over and over—you can’t stop thinking about what she said, about how badly you’ve hurt her.

sunghoon notices. he always does.

“you okay?” he asks, leaning closer to you, his voice low and concerned.

you nod, but it’s a lie. “yeah, i’m fine.”

he doesn’t believe you, of course. “come on, don’t lie to me. i can tell something’s bothering you.”

you let out a sigh, pushing your food around on your tray without eating. “i talked to karina this morning. she’s…not okay with us. with what’s happening.”

sunghoon frowns, his expression turning serious. “what did she say?”

you shake your head, trying to brush it off. “she’s just…hurt. i don’t blame her. i’d feel the same way if i were in her shoes.”

sunghoon is quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place.

“so what does that mean? do you want to stop? end this?”

the question takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you don’t know how to answer.

do you want to stop? would that make things better with karina? or would it just make everything worse?

“i don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “i just don’t want to hurt her anymore.”

sunghoon’s jaw tightens, and you can see the tension building in his posture.

he’s frustrated, but he’s holding it back—for now. “so you want to throw everything away because karina’s upset? what about us?”

the words hang in the air, and you feel a lump form in your throat—he’s right. it’s not just about karina anymore.

it’s about you and him—and whatever this thing between you has become.

but how do you choose between someone you loved as a friend and someone you might be falling for?

“i don’t want to throw anything away,” you say quietly. “but i don’t know how to fix this.”

sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “look, i get that karina’s your friend, or at least she was, but we can’t keep pretending like we owe her something. we didn’t do anything wrong. she broke up with me, not the other way around.”

his words make sense, but they don’t take away the guilt gnawing at you. “i know, but—”

“but what?” he snaps, cutting you off. “are you going to let her decide how we live our lives? is that what this is about?”

you flinch at his tone, the sudden harshness in his voice catching you off guard. “no, of course not. i just…i didn’t think things would get this complicated.”

sunghoon lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “well, guess what? things are complicated. that’s life. but you can’t just run away every time something gets difficult.”

his words sting, and you feel a surge of defensiveness rise in your chest.

“i’m not running away,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. “i’m just trying to figure out how to do the right thing.”

“and what’s the right thing, huh?” sunghoon challenges, his eyes flashing with frustration.

“because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re more worried about what karina thinks than what we have.”

you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

you don’t know how to explain it—how torn you feel between your loyalty to karina and your growing feelings for sunghoon.

it feels like no matter what you do, someone is going to get hurt.

“maybe we rushed into this,” you say softly, the words barely audible.

sunghoon’s expression hardens. “so what are you saying? you want to call it quits? pretend like none of this ever happened?”

you bite your lip, hating the way his words cut into you. “i don’t know, sunghoon. i just need time to think.”

there’s a long pause, and you can feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you. finally, he stands up, grabbing his bag from the floor.

“take all the time you need,” he says coldly. “but don’t expect me to wait around forever.”

and with that, he walks away, leaving you sitting there alone, the ache in your chest growing deeper by the second.

the next few days are torture—sunghoon barely speaks to you, and when he does, it’s short and distant, like he’s putting up a wall between you.

it’s painful, watching the person you’ve grown so close to suddenly shut you out.

and as much as you want to talk to him, to apologize, you’re not sure if you even know how to fix things.

karina’s words still haunt you, and the guilt you feel for hurting her hasn’t gone away.

but now, there’s something else—something worse. the fear that you’ve lost sunghoon, too.

it’s late one evening, after another day of tense silences and awkward interactions, that you decide you can’t take it anymore.

you grab your phone, your fingers hovering over sunghoon’s contact—for a moment, you hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest.

what if he doesn’t want to talk? what if he’s already decided that it’s over?

but you can’t keep avoiding this, you need to confront it head-on, like he said.

taking a deep breath, you type out a message.

“can we talk? please.”

you don’t expect him to respond right away, but to your surprise, your phone buzzes just a few seconds later.

“meet me at the park.”

your heart races as you grab your jacket and head out, the cool night air biting at your skin as you walk to the park where you and sunghoon used to hang out.

it’s quiet when you arrive, the dim streetlights casting long shadows across the grass.

and there, sitting on a bench near the playground, is sunghoon.

he looks up when he sees you, his expression unreadable. you walk over slowly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“hey,” you say softly, sitting down next to him.

“hey,” he replies, his voice flat.

for a moment, neither of you says anything—the silence stretches between you, heavy with everything that’s been left unsaid. finally, you break the tension.

“i’m really sorry, hoon,” you say quietly, your voice trembling. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

sunghoon lets out a sigh, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“it’s not about hurting me. it’s about whether or not you actually want this with me.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening. “i do. i really do.”

he looks at you then, his eyes searching yours for something—truth, maybe. “then what’s the problem? why are you so afraid of just…being with me?”

you bite your lip, struggling to put your feelings into words. “it’s not that i don’t want to be with you. it’s just…everything with karina, and the rumors, and—”

“forget the rumors,” he says firmly, cutting you off. “forget karina for a second. this is about you and me. no one else. so what do you want?”

the question hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

what do you want? the answer is so simple, yet so terrifying at the same time.

“i want you,” you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

sunghoon’s eyes soften, and for the first time in days, his expression relaxes.

he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “then have me—stop pushing me away.”

tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you nod, squeezing his hand tightly.

“i’m sorry. i won’t do it again. i promise.”

he gives you a small, reassuring smile. “we’ll figure this out. together.”

and just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on you for days lifts, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

things aren’t perfect, and you still have a lot to work through, but for the first time, you feel like you’re on the same page.

like maybe, this thing between you is real—and worth fighting for.

in the days that follow, things between you and sunghoon slowly begin to settle back into place, but there’s still a lingering sense of tension, like the calm before a storm.

you’re relieved that the two of you have talked things through, but the issues with karina—and your own guilt—haven’t magically disappeared.

you and sunghoon are careful around each other, more hesitant than before.

there’s still that spark, that undeniable chemistry, but the shadow of karina’s disappointment and the strain from the confrontation hang over everything.

and although sunghoon seems more open, there’s a subtle distance between you—like he’s holding something back, unsure if you’re really committed this time—protecting himself from a possible heartbreak.

it’s not until the night of the big game that things come to a head.

sunghoon has been talking about this game for weeks.

it’s the biggest one of the season, and the entire school is buzzing with excitement—you’ve never been much for sports, but you know how important it is to him, and even though part of you is still unsure about everything that’s happened, you want to be there for him.

you arrive at the stadium just as the game is about to start, the stands packed with students, teachers, and parents.

the energy in the air is buzzing with excitement, and you feel your nerves start to buzz as you scan the field for sunghoon.

he’s already out there, warming up with his team, looking confident and focused, like the whole world revolves around him in that moment.

a part of you can’t help but admire him.

he’s always been effortlessly good at everything—popular, athletic, the guy everyone wants to be.

and yet, despite that, he’s always been more than just the “jock” to you, he’s sunghoon—your friend, your fake boyfriend, and now…something more. something real.

but as you sit down in the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling in your chest.

you haven’t spoken to karina since that day in the hallway, and the thought of her finding out about you and sunghoon—about how things between you have changed—makes your stomach churn.

you’re still deep in thought when the game starts, the crowd erupting into cheers as the teams take the field.

you try to focus, but your mind keeps wandering back to karina, back to the conversation you had with her, and back to the guilt that’s been gnawing at you ever since.

the game is intense, and sunghoon is in his element, moving across the field with a kind of grace and power that’s impossible to ignore.

every time he scores, the crowd erupts in cheers, and you find yourself clapping along with everyone else, despite the turmoil in your heart.

but then, with just a few minutes left in the game, something happens.

one of the opposing players slams into sunghoon hard, sending him crashing to the ground.

the crowd gasps, and your heart leaps into your throat as you watch him lie there, unmoving.

for a moment, everything around you goes silent, and all you can focus on is sunghoon, lying on the field in pain.

you don’t even realize you’ve stood up until someone grabs your arm, pulling you back down.

“he’s fine,” a voice says from beside you. “he’ll get up.”

but you can’t relax—your mind races with fear and worry as you watch the coach and the team trainer rush out to help him.

sunghoon slowly sits up, wincing as he moves, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. he’s hurt, but he’s okay.

still, watching him in pain stirs something inside you—something more than just concern for ‘a crush’.

it’s the realization that you care about him more deeply than you’ve allowed yourself to admit.

you’ve been holding back, too scared to fully commit, but now, seeing him like this, you know that you don’t want to lose him—not over karina, not over anything.

after the game, you wait for sunghoon outside the locker rooms, pacing nervously.

you’re still shaken from watching him get hurt, but there’s something else weighing on you now—something more urgent.

when sunghoon finally emerges from the locker room, he looks tired and a little worse for wear, but when he sees you standing there, a smile breaks across his face.

“hey,” he says, walking over to you with a slight limp. “you waited.”

“of course i did,” you say, trying to smile, but the worry in your voice betrays you. “are you okay?”

he shrugs, trying to play it off. “i’ll be fine. just a bad hit.”

you bite your lip, your eyes searching his face. “sunghoon… i’ve been thinking.”

he raises an eyebrow, looking slightly confused. “about what?”

“about us. about…everything.” you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “i know i’ve been all over the place lately, and i know i’ve hurt you by not being clear about what i want. but i’ve realized something tonight.”

sunghoon watches you closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “and what’s that?”

you step closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“i don’t want to keep pretending that this doesn’t matter—you matter to me, sunghoon. i always have—more than i’ve let myself admit. and i know things are complicated with karina, and the rumors, and everything else, but… i want to be with you. for real.”

there’s a long pause, and for a moment, you’re terrified that you’ve said too much, that maybe you’ve pushed him away for good this time.

but then, slowly, a smile spreads across sunghoon’s face.

“you mean that?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod, your eyes locked on his. “yeah. i do.”

sunghoon lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “you know, i’ve been waiting for you to say that for weeks now.”

before you can respond, he steps forward, pulling you into his arms—his hands are warm against your back, and you can feel his heart beating against your chest as he holds you tightly, like he’s afraid to let go.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs into your hair. “not unless you want me to.”

you close your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder as relief washes over you. “i don’t want you to.”

the next day, you wake up feeling lighter than a feather, light— the same lightness you’d feel after binge watching all the harry potter movies with sunghoon back in the day, the same lightness after you two swore to stay best friends forever—the same lightness you felt as sunghoon and you went back-to-school shopping together for the first day of highschool—the lightness of sitting in the ice-cream booth together—like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

for the first time in weeks, you’re not filled with anxiety or doubt.

you’ve made your decision, and now you’re ready to move forward—with sunghoon, with whatever this relationship might bring.

but that doesn’t mean everything is resolved.

later that afternoon, you receive a text from karina.

“we need to talk.”

your stomach tightens as you read the message—you knew this conversation was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

you’ve been dreading it, but at the same time, you know it’s necessary.

you can’t keep avoiding her, and you can’t keep pretending like everything is fine.

you meet karina at a quiet café on the edge of town, your heart pounding as you walk through the door.

she’s already there, sitting at a table near the window, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

when she sees you, she gives you a small nod, but there’s no warmth in her eyes.

you sit down across from her, your nerves jangling. “hey.”

“hey,” she replies, her voice unreadable.

for a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you heavy and uncomfortable.

you can tell that karina is still hurt, and you don’t blame her.

you’ve been avoiding her, too afraid to face the truth of what’s happened between you.

finally, karina breaks the silence.

“i saw you and sunghoon together last night. after the game.”

your heart skips a beat. “karina, i—”

“i’m not mad,” she interrupts, surprising you. “at least, not anymore. i’ve had time to think about it, and i’ve realized that… i can’t control what happens between you and him. it sucks, and it hurts, but i can’t keep holding onto something that’s already gone.”

you blink, taken aback by her honesty. “you’re not mad?”

she sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “i mean, yeah, it hurts seeing you two together, but… i can’t keep being angry. it’s not fair to either of us.”

you stare at her, unsure of what to say—you’ve been bracing yourself for an argument, for karina to lash out at you, but instead, she’s…letting go. she’s accepting it.

“i’m sorry,” you say softly, your voice thick with emotion. “i really never wanted to hurt you.”

karina gives you a small, sad smile. “i know. and i believe you.”

for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of relief.

maybe things between you and karina will never go back to how they were, but at least you’re not leaving things unresolved—at least now, there’s a chance to heal.

the days that follow feel like a fresh start.

you and sunghoon grow closer, your relationship deepening as you finally let go of the doubts and fears that have been holding you back.

there are no more rumors, no more pretending. it’s just the two of you, and for the first time, that’s enough.

you still see karina from time to time, and though things are awkward at first, there’s a sense of understanding between you now.

she’s moving on, too, in her own way, and while your friendship may never be the same, you two are still trying your best to make the most out of it—to forgive and heal together.

one afternoon, as you and sunghoon sit together on the bleachers, watching the sunset after his practice, he turns to you with a grin.

“so,” he says, nudging you playfully. “are you ready to stop pretending we’re just fake dating?”

you laugh, leaning against his shoulder. “i think we’ve been past that point for a while now, hoon.”

he smiles, his eyes soft as he looks down at you “good. because i don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.”

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you rest your head against him.

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—no more pretending, no more doubts.

just you and sunghoon, and the future ahead of you.

a few days later, it’s the championship game, and the energy in the stadium is like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

the stands are packed with students, parents, and teachers, all buzzing with excitement as they watch the final moments of the game unfold.

the score is tied, and there’s only one minute left on the clock.

you’re sitting on the edge of your seat, next to karina your heart pounding in your chest as you watch sunghoon move across the field with lightning speed.

his eyes are locked on the ball, his focus razor-sharp, and you know—this is his moment.

this is what he’s been working toward all season.

“come on, sunghoon,” you whisper under your breath, your hands clenched into fists as you lean forward.

the crowd is on their feet, everyone holding their breath as sunghoon makes his move.

he dodges one defender, then another, running through the opposing team with ease—and then, with just seconds to spare, he takes the shot.

the ball soars through the air, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped.

everyone watches in stunned silence as the ball flies toward the goal…and lands perfectly in the back of the net.

the crowd erupts into cheers, the sound so loud it shakes the stadium, and you jump to your feet, screaming in excitement.

sunghoon has done it—he’s won the game.

on the field, his teammates rush toward him, lifting him up onto their shoulders as they celebrate their victory.

sunghoon is laughing, his face lit up with pure joy as he’s carried around the field—but even in the middle of all the chaos, his eyes are searching for something—or someone.

then, you see it—his gaze locks onto yours from across the field, and in that moment, it’s like no one else exists.

the cheers, the noise, the celebration—it all fades away as sunghoon looks at you, a wide smile spreading across his face.

you felt a soft nudge beside you, making you turn to face the girl who you’d been spending time with recently.

“babe—what are you waiting for? go!” she shouts excitedly making you run down the stands to congratulate sunghoon.

without a second thought, he jumps down from his teammates’ shoulders, running toward you with a determination that makes your heart race.

before you can even process what’s happening, he’s in front of you, sweeping you into his arms and lifting you off the ground.

you let out a startled laugh as he spins you around, your feet dangling in the air. “sunghoon, what are you doing?”

but he doesn’t answer. instead, he pulls you close and kisses you, his lips warm and soft against yours.

the world around you melts away, and all you can feel is him—his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath mingling with yours, the sheer joy radiating from him.

when you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, and you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re supposed to be celebrating with your team, you know.”

sunghoon grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “i’d rather celebrate with you.”

you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face is impossible to hide. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, but you love me anyway,” he teases, setting you back down on the ground.

you playfully slap his arm, shaking your head. “go celebrate with your teammates. you earned this.”

but sunghoon just shrugs, pulling you closer. “they can wait. right now, i just want to be with my girlfriend.”

your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by how much you care about him.

this is real—so much more than the fake relationship you started with.

you’re no longer the girl from the beginning of highschool, locked in her room writing letters heartbroken at night.

now, standing here in the middle of a roaring crowd with sunghoon holding you like you’re the only person in the world, you realize just how far you’ve come together.

you smile, leaning in to kiss him again, your lips brushing softly against his. “okay,” you whisper against his mouth. “but you better go back to them soon, or they’re going to start wondering where their star player went.”

sunghoon laughs, the sound warm and full of happiness. “fine. but don’t go anywhere. i’m not done celebrating with you yet.”

you laugh too, your heart light as you watch him jog back toward his teammates, the smile on his face never fading.

the crowd is still cheering, the excitement still there, but all you can focus on is the way sunghoon keeps glancing back at you, like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

and in that moment, you know—you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

no more pretending, no more doubts. just you, sunghoon, and the love you’ve both fought so hard to find.

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

❝ PLEASE REBLoG AND LiKE .ᐟ��� 💌

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A Confession Through Written Words — Housewardens x gn! reader

summery: you confess through a love letter, it doesn't fail to warm his heart.

tw: none.

a/n: idk I was bored

wc: 1.6k (~200 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

You had put your all into the presentation of the letter. You tried to make your handwriting as neat as possible while spilling your feelings astutely so as to not overcloud the meaning or make it look like a joke. Perhaps you were overthinking the whole ordeal, but who wouldn’t when confessing your feelings? You had managed to slip the letter into his bag without him noticing. In fact, he wouldn’t find the pristine white letter until he was getting ready for bed. At first he was confused, he hadn’t recalled receiving a letter, but it was addressed to him, and he carefully opened it, making sure to not rip the rose sticker holding the envelope closed. Riddle wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t a meticulously written love letter from you. His heart rate sped up, his face burning a bright red once he got to the end. He could barely sleep that night, not with you running through his head. The next day he dutifully wrote his own letter as a reply, handing it to you without meeting your eyes. Open it once you’re alone, yeah? He doesn’t think he can handle your reaction even though you were the first to confess. 

❥ Leona Kingscholar

You weren’t sure how to approach Leona with your feelings. He tended to be a bit snarky and you were a bit sensitive about your feelings. You don’t think you could handle him dismissing you or making a rude comment in your moment of vulnerability. So what better way then to write a letter? You knew he wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t perfect, if anything he’d tease you for not saying it to his face, but you could handle that. After you rewrote the letter for the eleventh time, you decided it was good enough and you made your way to Leona’s room. He watched you lazily as you entered. You thought he was asleep, so you placed the letter on his nightstand before taking a seat on his bed. Curiosity ate at him, but he refrained from making any comments, using the guise of sleep to pull you into him so he could finally get some good rest. When you left, he took no time to rip open the letter, carelessly ripping the lion sticker in two. He couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, even though he was the best, it was still a surprise to read your genuine feelings for him. He won’t let you worry for long, tomorrow he’ll make sure you know that you're his herbivore. 

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

You had tried to confess to him before, but his suaveness had left you tongue tied everytime. Or when his suave facade crumbled into a genuine care…that left your mind reeling, unable to mutter how much he meant to you. So you wrote a letter, and even though writing how you felt was easier than speaking it…it still wasn’t easy to write. Your trashcan was filled with crumpled up papers with pencil marking scratched out. When you finally had a letter you deemed good enough, you tried to make it look as fancy as you could. Unfortunately, Floyd had snatched the letter the next day before you could even greet him. You watched him run away with genuine horror, hoping that he wouldn’t read it before Azul at the very least. Fortunately for you, Floyd held off on opening it, handing the letter to Azul with an eager smile. Jade watched on as well, somehow already aware of the predicament. Glaring at the two, Azul  opened it later when he was alone in the VIP of Monstro Lounge. He had recognized your handwriting right away, carefully thumbing the pearl sticker before opening it with a letter opener. Azul could barely get through the first sentence without becoming an overheated mess. He’s another one tossing and turning that night. Instead of blatantly stating his feelings out in the open, he offers you to go on a date so you know that he’s serious about you as well. 

❥ Kalim Al-Asim

You had tried to confess to him…many times. Every time you told him you loved him, he just smiled back and told you he loved you too…but you knew he didn’t understand you meant it romantically. Every hand hold, cheek kiss, hell, you both had cuddled multiple times and he never seemed to get that you were interested in him as more than just a friend! So you decided to write exactly how you felt, getting all your messy feelings out in the open. With how bubbly he was, you didn’t feel too awkward handing him the letter in person, only telling him to read it later when he’s alone. Unbeknownst to you…Kalim had almost lost your letter multiple times that day. Not that he doesn’t care for you! He’s just a bit of an air head that has too much on their mind. Please thank Jamil for hanging on to it, reminding Kalim to read it after dinner was over. When Kalim finally read the letter (after fawning over the adorable golden retriever sticker), he couldn’t contain his excitement. He almost ran straight to your dorm if it weren’t for Jamil blocking him. Expect multiple gifts the next day along with more affection than you thought was possible. Kalim needs to get his bouts of cute aggression out, and what better way than drowning you in jewels?

❥ Vil Schoenheit

As much as you adored Vil, he was a bit…intimidating. His lilac gaze could pierce through the toughest metal, but it could also melt the coldest heart. You had unsurprisingly found yourself falling for the star, but you couldn’t help but feel like a fan no matter how you thought approaching him with your feelings. If anything, the letter felt like the most cliche fan stereotype ever, and even though he called you a friend, you feared he’d take it the wrong way. So you decided a letter was the best bet, that way you didn’t have to see his reaction. Yet when you had tried to sneak the letter to him, it was out of your hands in the blink of an eye and you stared in horror as Rook offered it to Vil. At first, Vil thought it was fanmail, staring at it with slight disdain, but he opened it anyway, not caring how the crown sticker tore. He barely scanned over the letter until he read your name at the very end, eyes glancing up to see your terribly anxious expression. So he reread it, this time carefully scrutinizing over every word, and although a letter wasn’t exactly how he wanted you to confess, he still felt his heartbeat increase with every lovely feeling you felt towards him. Closing the letter, he watched fondly as you fidgeted, clearing his voice and demanding you to ask him on a date properly. 

❥ Idia Shroud

You had been secretly fawning over Idia for so long you felt like you were going to burst. You had wanted to confess to him for so long…but you feared that you’d break the poor man. So you decided to write him a letter…er more like a text. You weren’t sure if he’d even know how to open a letter… Poor, poor Idia. He nearly had five heart attacks when he saw your chat bubble appear for twenty minutes then disappear only to appear again. He tried to play his game, ignore the damned three dots that kept taunting him, but his eyes couldn’t stop trailing down to his phone. Do you know how many times you caused him to die? Oh boy, and when you did send it? The little blue heart at the end had nearly ended him before he even read a word! He had read and reread the text so many times you couldn’t even count, and don’t mind that he screenshotted it and saved it to a super secure private photo album so only he could see it. Don’t expect a reply. He’s too busy having a meltdown, hair burning a bright pink for the rest of the night. Do expect Ortho to ramble about how happy his brother got the night before, unsure of why but happy nonetheless. And when Ortho finds out why? Expect a text from Idia saying that he doesn’t mind your presence too much…yes Ortho forced him to say something back and yes that was him confirming that he likes you back.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Malleus was traditional to an extent, that was something anyone could tell. He also always had you feeling like you were living in a fantasy romance novel with the way he treated you. You hadn’t even thought of confessing your feelings in person, a letter seeming like a traditional and very Malleus adjacent confession. You tried your best to write with fancy curling letters…if you failed at that task…that's up to you. What stumped you was how to give it to him. In those old timey romance movies and novels they sent it through the mail…but you both lived on the same grounds. Handing it to him seemed a bit too forward, and you either didn’t trust or felt too embarrassed to ask his retainers to pass it to him. But you sucked it up and went to your safest option, Silver. Malleus was surprised to have a letter handed to him, another one to open it with a letter opener. He felt his breath hitch with each word you lovingly wrote, warmth blooming in his chest. Like the gentleman he is, he writes you a loving letter back (one that you can barely read with how loopy the cursive was), and it’s the most poetic thing you have ever read. Be prepared to cry at how much he loves you. 

[xothatnerdykid]

read your mind

You’re a newly minted pro-hero with a quirk that lets you to read the mind of anyone you touch. So imagine your surprise when you accidentally read a certain stoic, brooding hero's mind and find out he doesn't hate you like you thought, but rather, something dangerously close to the opposite.

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x fem!reader. NSFW but not very explicit. 5,002 words.

“Your form was sloppy,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

You used to cringe when he’d tell you things like that, become sheepish and apologetic. Now, after months of knowing him, you'd simply smile and quip, “Awww, you watching my saves on the news again?”

You hated bumping into him. He was the reason you tended to leave mission briefings early: the ever-stoic, perpetually unimpressed Pro Hero Eraserhead.

As a relatively new hero working in the same city, you were thrilled at the chance to learn from someone as experienced as him. But your excitement quickly dimmed the first time you met as you noticed his gruff demeanor and critical, scrutinizing gaze.

You knew he was tough on everyone, but there were times when it felt like his criticism was directed at you more than anyone else. And no matter how hard you tried or how much praise everyone else gave you, he always found something to correct.

So, for the sake of keeping your self-esteem intact, you’ve resorted to treating his criticism like a game, teasing him back whenever he dropped one of his classic deadpan remarks. It was either that or crumble under the weight of his seemingly endless disapproval.

But today, all you can muster is a grunt in response, head throbbing from fatigue and chronic sleep deprivation.

“That’s my line,” he says flatly. Because apparently, someone always has to be the cheeky one between the two of you.

“Can we just…” You rub your temple, wincing as the pain spikes. "Can we just not do this today?”

“Are you feeling alright?” His voice loses a bit of its usual sharpness as he steps closer, eyes narrowing in concern. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you huff, waving him off. "Just tired. We can't all function on only ten shots of espresso a day."

"Seven actually. I'm not a maniac. And you don't sound fine."

You roll your eyes, feeling too drained to banter with him. "I said I'm fine. Can you spare me the lecture?"

You mean to walk past him when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, startling you. Suddenly, there’s that familiar buzz in your mind — your quirk activating with the skin-to-skin contact. The headache momentarily takes a backseat as his thoughts flood in.

Is she really okay? She looks like she’s about to collapse.

Why does she always push herself so hard?

You look up at him, eyes wide and unblinking.

He yanks his hand away as if he’d been burned, the flood of his thoughts abruptly cut off. His dark eyes flicker with something—surprise? Guilt? He takes a step back.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rougher than usual. “Didn’t mean to…”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. How are you supposed to respond to that? All this time, you thought he was just cold, that he only ever saw your flaws. But just now, he…

He was worried about you?

“I—” you start, but your voice falters. He’s still staring at you, his expression carefully guarded again.

“I’ll see you around. Feel better." His voice is clipped, betraying none of the thoughts you just heard. The words sound so casual, so dismissive, that for a moment you wonder if you imagined it all.

You want to say something to break the tension between you, but you're suddenly nervous. Your heart races, pounding with the weight of this new knowledge. Before you can compose yourself, another hero calls his name, and he mutters a quick response before leaving.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

You promised yourself you were going to avoid him like the plague.

Later that day, when you were tossing and turning in bed, still overthinking your last encounter — you promised. You even came up with (what seemed to you) a solid game plan: You were going to focus on hero work so much that you won’t even have the time to think about him, much less see him.

But the mission had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes.

What was supposed to be a simple recon had turned into a full-on chase through the streets when the criminal you'd been tracking for weeks unexpectedly showed up at the deal you were sent to bust. Orders be damned, you vaulted over the rooftop ledge and ran after them.

You leaped across buildings, adrenaline spurring you on. Your mind was focused, heart pounding in rhythm with your footfalls. You’d chased this villain twice before, and both times, they’d slipped through your fingers. You weren’t about to let that happen again.

The villain was fast, but so were you. With each bound, you closed the gap, watching as they darted into a narrow alleyway below. This was your chance. Your heart surged as you prepared to drop down and cut them off.

Suddenly, a figure descended from the shadows, blocking your target from your sight. Your stomach dropped.

Of course it was him.

"Stay back. This is too dangerous for you to handle alone.” His voice was firm and authoritative. Even with the goggles on, you could feel his dark eyes trained on you with that same stern expression you’d come to dread.

"Dangerous? I've been on this case longer than you have!”

You stepped forward but so did he.

“I said stay back,” he warned you. “Don’t be reckless. He’s already evaded you twice, and now he’s cornered. Desperate villains do desperate things.”

“He’s getting away! You’re ruining my chance to finally catch him!”

“And you’ll get yourself killed,” Aizawa snapped. “I’m not going to let a rookie run into a trap.”

Anger flared in your chest. You knew he didn’t respect you, hadn’t from the start. Always criticizing, always watching with that disapproving scowl. You try to push past him, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, and maybe even more stubborn.

“Wait here and let me handle it,” Aizawa growled, his voice low and commanding. His scarf moved like a serpent around him, a silent warning that he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if you pushed any further.

You clenched your fists but did as you were told. Much to your frustration, the villain was apprehended quickly after that. You watched from the rooftop, fuming as Aizawa cornered them with ease, his scarf tangling around the villain's limbs like it was second nature. Within minutes, the situation was over, and backup arrived to escort the criminal away.

You stayed put, your heart still racing with the adrenaline of the chase and the frustration of being sidelined once again. The cool night breeze did little to calm your heated emotions. It wasn’t fair. You’d been so close, only for him to swoop in like you were some rookie who couldn’t handle their own mission.

Now, you watch as he finishes giving his statement to the police and then make his way towards you.

You cross your arms tightly, readying yourself for whatever critique he’d throw your way this time. But when he stops in front of you, he doesn’t say anything right away. He simply takes off his goggles and looks at you.

His silence is almost worse than his usual condescending remarks. When he finally speaks, his voice is gravelly, strained. More measured than you expected.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. "I…I'm fine," you answer, maybe a bit too defensively.

Aizawa's eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he’s about to call you out for your tone. But he just stares at you, his expression as unreadable as ever.

You shift on your feet, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. The silence stretches between you both, heavy and awkward, until he exhales and rubs the back of his neck.

"Good," he mutters, his voice softening just slightly, but there’s something behind his eyes—a flicker of something you can’t quite place. His hand lowers back to his side, and as it brushes yours for the briefest moment, something happens.

Skin contact.

Before you can stop it, his thoughts are bleeding into yours, loud and clear.

I should’ve handled that better. She probably thinks I hate her…

Dammit, I don’t want her to hate me.

Your breath catches in your throat. A rush of emotions flood your mind: frustration, concern. Genuine fear.

She doesn’t need to prove herself to me. She’s already good enough. More than good enough.

Heat floods your face, your pulse quickening. He… cares? Before you can process it fully, the connection snaps. A sudden coldness washes over you as your quirk is forcibly erased.

Aizawa’s eyes lock onto yours, his irritation visible in the sharpness of his gaze and the tight line of his mouth.

"I…I didn't mean to," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Something like uncertainty flickers in his expression, and his hair falls down in waves as he shuts off his quirk, too. His jaw tightens but his brow furrows as though he’s trying to decide what to say.

“I...know you didn’t,” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

You flinch, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you murmur again, dropping your gaze to the ground. You didn’t want to invade his mind, but now you couldn’t unhear what you’d discovered.

Just like before, he turns to leave.

“Wait—” you blurt out, reaching for him instinctively. You don’t know what you’re going to say, but you can’t just let him leave like this. Not again.

He pauses, half-turning to glance at you over his shoulder. Your heart is pounding in your ears. The words are there, but they feel jumbled in your throat, tangled up in the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling through your mind.

“I—I didn’t know. About any of it.”

Your eyes search his face for any sign of what he’s thinking, but his expression remains impassive. You fight back the urge to touch him.

“I thought you couldn’t stand me,” you admit in a small voice.

Aizawa heaves a sigh. His hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose, and for the first time, you notice how tired he looks; exhausted, worn down in a way that makes him seem more human, less the untouchable figure you’ve always seen him as.

“I’m not trying to be hard on you,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer now, the anger draining away. “But you don’t always think things through, and that’s dangerous. You’re talented. You don’t need to prove anything to me or anyone else.”

His words surprise you, and you look up, meeting his gaze again. There’s no scowl, no biting critique, just honesty. You swallow hard, feeling an odd mix of warmth and discomfort settle in your chest.

Before you can think better of it, your hand moves instinctively, brushing against his arm. You freeze, realizing what you’ve done, but this time, he doesn’t pull away. And though he has every opportunity to, he doesn’t erase your quirk either.

I’m too close to her. The thought is faint, hesitant. She’s already in my head… and it’s getting harder to push her away.

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s not just frustrated with you — he’s frustrated with himself.

You pull your hand back, not wanting to intrude further.

You don’t know what you expect to see on his face; surprise maybe, or even anger. But for the first time since you’ve met him, you see something warmer in his eyes — something that sends a flutter through your chest.

Aizawa takes a half-step closer and your pulse quickens at the proximity. Then, in a voice so soft it’s almost a secret, he murmurs, “Don’t make me worry like that again.”

“I won’t,” you manage to whisper, your heart caught in your throat.

He takes a step back, as if remembering himself, and his usual stern demeanor slips back into place.

“Go home. Get some rest.”

You nod, still too flustered to speak. The warmth of his touch lingers long after he's gone.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

It’s well past midnight, the city quiet except for the soft hum of distant traffic and the occasional sound of wind rustling through the streets. Your patrol route brings you to the edge of a quiet park, where you catch a familiar figure standing in the shadows, keeping watch.

“You really like brooding in the dark, don’t you?" You smile at him from over your shoulder, though your usual sarcasm is gone.

“It's my favorite pastime,” he deadpans, but you don't miss the way his dark eyes hold yours a beat too long.

“Right,” you snicker. “The city’s most stoic hero. I bet you even scowl in your sleep.”

Aizawa’s lips twitch, the tiniest of smirks threatening to break through. “You can’t prove that.”

"Oh?” You smile sweetly, batting your eyelashes for good measure. “Something tells me I can.”

His gaze sharpens slightly, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s about to call you out on your teasing. But instead, he steps closer, his tall frame looming over you.

“You’re bold tonight,” he says, his tone somewhere between amused and intrigued. “Careful, I might start thinking you’re actually enjoying my company.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling any wider. “And what if I am?”

He steps just a fraction closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him in the cool night air. His voice is low and smooth when he says, “Then I’d have to wonder what it is you think you’re getting yourself into.”

The air between you thickens, the playful banter now laced with something a little more dangerous, a little more exciting.

“You know, I could buy you a coffee sometime,” you offer, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, keep the conversation light. “To say thanks for helping me out with that last mission.”

He pretends to mull it over but, before you can react, he reaches out and grabs the coffee cup you’re holding. He takes a deliberately long sip, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

When he lowers the cup, he meets your gaze with a half-lidded look that sends your pulse racing.

“Consider it done.”

Your face feels impossibly warm now, and you’re sure your blush is painfully obvious, but you manage to keep your voice steady as you quip, “An indirect kiss? Maybe you’re the one who needs to be careful, or else other people will start getting the wrong idea.”

With a low laugh, he hands the cup back to you, and the subtle brush of his fingers against yours sets off another wave of his thoughts.

I wonder if she realizes how much I want her.

Your breath catches.

For a split second, you think you might’ve misheard it, but the heat in Aizawa’s gaze as he watches your reaction tells you otherwise. The cup is back in your hand, but your fingers are numb. Your focus is entirely on him, his thoughts still rattling around in your mind.

His lips twitch again. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden,” he teases, his voice low, almost a purr. “What’s going on up there? Something I should know about?”

You swallow hard, trying to gather your composure. He’s looking at you like he’s daring you to admit what you heard.

You take a deep breath and decide to play along. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if you always flirt this shamelessly.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

Your heart is racing now, fingers trembling around the cup in your hand. His gaze is dark and intense. Unwavering. He's looking at you like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you and he’s enjoying it.

Your quirk had always been a double-edged sword; sometimes it revealed things you wished you hadn’t known, and other times it brought clarity to situations that seemed hopelessly opaque.

This time, it left you with a dilemma.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts. He’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth of him, his presence overwhelming but not uncomfortable. “Since you’re already in my head…why stop now?”

Your breath hitches. His invitation is dangerous, yet impossible to resist. There are a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t — you work together, it’s an invasion of privacy, you hated his guts just a few weeks ago — but the temptation is too strong, his presence too intoxicating.

Hesitantly, your fingers brush against his once more, and his thoughts flood in again, more intense and vivid this time.

She’s braver than I thought. I like that.

I shouldn’t be doing this. But damn, I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she looks at me…

“Good girl,” he cooes, his voice a low rumble that sends a flutter of excitement through you.

You feel lightheaded, dizzy with the weight of his thoughts, the tension between you at a boiling point. You swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the way Aizawa’s eyes are fixed on you — dark, intense, hungry — it’s making it hard to think straight. He wants you to know. He wants you to feel what he’s feeling.

And you do.

You feel everything.

His desire is a palpable thing, hanging in the air between you, electric and heady. You can see it in the way his gaze lingers on your lips, the way his breath hitches ever so slightly when you lean in.

“Hardly seems fair. I don't get to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.” His voice dips lower, enough to send another wave of heat crashing over you. “Are you going to keep me guessing?”

Your voice wavers slightly, but you manage to respond, “I’m not sure you’re ready for what’s in my head.”

He chuckles, a dark, low sound that makes your stomach flip. “You might be surprised.”

You can barely breathe as he brushes the back of his hand against your jaw, his thumb pressing lightly on the corner of your mouth. You feel his thoughts ripple through you again, even stronger this time.

I want her. God, I want her so badly…

Your knees feel weak, and it takes everything in you not to lose yourself completely in the moment, in him. The tension between you feels unbearable now, as if one wrong move could send you both over the edge. And you’re not sure how much longer either of you can hold back.

Aizawa smirks, just a hint of satisfaction flickering in his expression.

I could kiss her right now. It would be so easy.

The thought lingers between you, thick and heavy, and you can’t tell if it’s yours or his anymore. All you know is that just the idea of his lips on yours is making your entire body hum with anticipation.

Aizawa watches you carefully, as if waiting for your reaction. He knows you heard him, and he’s not backing down.

You swallow hard, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. “Go ahead then,” your own voice sounds small and distant to your ears, but it’s enough to tip the balance.

His lips are on yours in a second.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters, but it quickly deepens as the tension that had been building between you finally breaks. His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer, and you feel his thoughts rushing through you again.

God, she tastes even better than I imagined.

Your knees nearly buckle, and you can barely focus on anything except the way his lips feel against yours — firm, warm, demanding yet tender. He’s kissing you like he’s been holding back for far too long.

When you finally pull back for air, your heart is pounding, your breath shaky. Aizawa’s forehead rests gently against yours, his eyes half-closed as he catches his own breath. His thumb brushes lightly over your cheek, a small, affectionate gesture that has you smiling up at him in a tizzy.

“Still think I hate you?” he murmurs, his voice low and full of heat as he slides his hands into the curve of your waist.

You laugh softly, pulling him closer by his scarf. “I think I might need a little more convincing.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

The days that follow your little late night tryst at the park are deliciously unbearable.

It’s as if you don’t know how to be around him anymore. There's tension during training sessions. The gym hums with its usual energy, but you can’t focus. Not with him in the room. You’re sparring with someone, half-heartedly dodging and throwing punches, but your mind is elsewhere, replaying the feel of Aizawa’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you.

Across the room, he’s speaking to a group of trainees, the same unreadable, stoic expression in place. But there's a flicker of something else in his eyes when they briefly meet yours, a look only you recognize.

Your opponent lands a hit on your shoulder and you nearly stumble. You grit your teeth and bring yourself back to the present moment. When the sparring session ends, you grab a bottle of water and try to catch your breath.

He walks over to where you’re sitting off to the side, seemingly doing the same. His voice is low enough so only you can hear. "You're distracted."

You flush, struggling to keep your expression impassive. “And what if I am?”

“Focus, or I’ll have to give you some private training later.”

His words are a promise, dripping with intent, and your blood sings. You can’t find a response quick enough before he’s already pulling away, leaving you flushed and even more distracted.

It’s not much better during night patrol, when the city streets are dimly lit and mostly empty. Although the two of you are supposed to be overseeing different sectors, you know when you turn a corner into a dark alley that he's following silently, closely behind.

You walk deeper into the alley, pretending to scan the area, but the quiet crunch of his footsteps has your heart racing. Just as you’re about to turn back, a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you into the shadows, away from prying eyes.

You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already on you, crashing his lips against yours.

“You’re making—it hard—for me—to concentrate,” he murmurs between kisses, each word punctuated by the soft graze of his mouth against yours. His hands press against your hips, pinning you gently yet firmly to the wall, and a wave of heat spreads through you.

Suddenly, an image flashes in your mind: him trailing his mouth downwards until he’s on his knees, hooking your leg over his shoulder and eating you out. A thought that isn’t your own.

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, though there’s no real bite to it. If anything, your voice is barely steady. “You’re supposed to be patrolling your own area.”

He runs his fingers along your jaw. "And let you wander into dark alleys alone?" He leans in, lips brush against your ear, nibbling. "Not a chance."

He crooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his teeth and lips lingering just enough to make you gasp.

I want to taste you. All of you, he thinks. I want you to make a mess on my face, on my fingers, and then lick it clean.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. He presses you harder against the wall, and it’s dizzying, intoxicating—

Until the sharp crackle of comms cuts through the haze.

“Report. Any activity?”

You both freeze, breaths mingling, still pressed close. His eyes flick to yours, and there’s a hint of amusement dancing in them.

“Nothing to report,” he says, voice calm and collected as if he hadn’t just been kissing you senseless a moment ago.

You look up at him, dazed and wanting, heart pounding. He tilts his head at you and you realize they’re expecting a response from you, too.

“N-no activity here either,” you manage despite the tightness of your throat.

The comms fall silent once more. Aizawa is looking at you through half-lidded eyes and a self-satisfied smirk. You hate him as much as you really don't.

“We should get back to our routes before someone decides to check on us," he murmurs.

“Oh, so now you’re concerned about protocol?” You arch an eyebrow at him, though you’re sure your flushed cheeks betray any semblance of teasing bravado.

"For now." He leans down to brush the shell of your ear with his lips. "But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just break a few more rules.”

A few days later, you find yourselves seated across from each other during a mission debriefing. The room is full of other pro heroes, but it might as well be empty for all the attention you’re paying to anyone else.

Your thoughts scramble every time Aizawa's knee brushes against yours beneath the table. He, on ther hand, is the picture of composure, listening to the debrief with his usual detached focus.

This meeting’s dragging. I can think of better ways to pass the time with you.

You try to focus on the mission details, but half way through, he moves his hand atop your thigh and you shiver.

How long do you think it’d take if we just slipped out, right now?

You steal a glance at him, and there’s the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes when they meet yours.

You force yourself to look down at your notes, but your mind is elsewhere, his presence impossibly distracting. Fuck it, you think before you slide your foot up his calf.

He sputters a cough, a rare crack in his usually unshakable composure, and you feel a surge of satisfaction. Under the table, his hand tightens on your thigh, his grip firm, almost possessive, and the thrill of it has you biting the inside of your cheek.

Keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what happens after this.

As the meeting draws to a close, everyone rises to leave, and Shota gives you a barely perceptible nod toward the hallway. You follow at a careful distance until you reach his office, entering a good few minutes after he does so as not to arouse suspicion.

He backs you gently against the door as he locks it behind you, his gaze pinning you in place. His eyes are dark and stormy, with that half-focused look you’ve come to love so much. When he speaks, his voice is soft, a murmur meant only for you. “You’re going to get us caught, you know that?”

You smile up at him sweetly then tip-toe to give him a soft, lingering kiss. "You’re the one who can’t seem to keep things professional,” you coo, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, teasing.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Is that so? Funny, I don’t remember you objecting."

“Of course not,” you confess breathlessly, head thrown back in pleasure as you tug at his hair. You can’t make out the sound of your own voice over the blood thumping in your ears. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined us doing inappropriate things in your office?”

Your words seem to snap the last of his restraint.

A low growl escapes him, and before you know it, he’s gripping your hips and lifting you just enough to press the hardness of his length against you. You gasp. His mouth finds yours with a raw, pent-up hunger that has you clinging to his shoulders, heart racing wildly.

“And here I was, thinking I was the only one losing sleep over this,” he murmurs between kisses, tugging your bottom lip gently between his teeth.

He pulls you flush against him as his tongue explores your mouth, and you trail your hands down his chest and the ridges of his abdomen just as eagerly. You grind your hips down on his erection and he lets out a deep, guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his warm, rough hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “You’re lucky we’re alone.” His tone is half-warning, half-promise, and you can feel his heartbeat racing beneath your hands.

"I know somewhere we wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted," you tell him breathlessly. “My place. Tonight. If you’re up for it.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "I'll clear my schedule.”

[churipu]

FAILING A TEST BECAUSE OF GOJO INCLUDES . . . 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru x reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. gojo being clingy (again), gojo being a tutor, serious gojo wow, cursing.

note. this is a part 2 on studying with gojo includes, took long enough i'm sorry kajsksks

[ PART 1 : STUDYING WITH GOJO INCLUDES . . . ]

failing a test because of gojo includes him practically being on his knees and apologizing for being so clingy to the point it was impossible to study with him.

"'m so sorry, please don't hate me. please still bring me to study with you — i can't stand being so far away from you," he dramatically apologized, hugging your leg.

"i never said i hated you, 'toru." you muttered, trying to brush his grip away from your leg, he was latched onto you like a magnet. it was impossible to pry him off, "get off me or i'll step on you, satoru."

"are y'hearing yourself? i can feel it in your voice, you hate me now!" he whines out softly.

if it weren't for the constant shot of worry and oddness from people passing by — you swore you would have kicked his ass already, "satoru, stop this. don't you have any shame in you? we're in public," he shook his head and buried his face into your clothed thigh.

"it's fine, 'ts not your fault 'toru. i was sure i'm gonna fail that test anyways," you found yourself telling him, tousling his hair back, "so stand up before i kick your ass."

the male begrudgingly stood up, brushing his pants, "well, why didn't you say that? so, 'ts not me but you. you're the problem," he joked, rolling his eyes, brushing his hair back hastily.

"you're not coming to study with me anymore, and i hate you."

cue the color draining from his face, and in a second, gojo was back on the ground, gripping on your leg harder than ever. whining and throwing a temper tantrum over your statement, "take that back, baby. take those words back, you don't mean that."

"y'r right. i don't," you flicked his forehead before pushing his grip off and then sauntering away from him.

failing a test because gojo includes him actually trying to help you study for the make up test — because if you haven't realized, he really does feel bad for being over your head while you were trying to study.

"no, no, baby. you put the x over here, and then just did what i told you before, step by step." he explains softly, pointing the tip of his pencil to an equation.

you mustered out a sigh of exhaustion and did what he told you to do. and miserably failed while trying to do so, your fingertips scratching your scalp in apparent frustration — the material incensed you.

maths. equations. numbers. they weren't really your forte, so even if gojo tries to convince you that he was the main reason for you failing your test; you think it was your brain capacity that failed you during this important test.

"'ts alright baby, don't stress yourself over this — y'know i'm gonna be here helping you, right?" he rubs your nape, squeezing your skin gently, "you're doing good, you just forgot to move the x, 'ts okay. everyone does that."

as much as you try not to overthink about it, moving the x was the first step of the equation. and you got it wrong.

failing a test because of gojo includes him trying to make sure you get at least a fifteen minutes worth of break to ease yourself from the stress. the male doesn't really take no for an answer — so when you tell him no to breaks, gojo manhandles you forcefully (and gently).

"y/n, take a break. you've been studying for four hours," he mumbles into your ear.

"'m fine, just a few more questions."

gojo does not take no for an answer, wrapping an arm around your waist — he pulls you back from the short legged table, tugging you up from the floor and tosses you onto the plush mattress. that was not all, the male wrapped your cotton made blanket around you, solely trapping your body inside it.

"fifteen minutes, and i'll let you go." he mutters, placing a kiss onto your lips before laying on top of your covered body, "stop kneeing my head, i'll get a concussion."

"unhand me." you muttered out in spite.

"stop moving, and stop talking. you're fine with a fifteen minutes break, y/n." gojo muttered back in reply.

failing a test because of gojo includes a "fifteen minutes" break, which in his vocabulary was apparently a two hours nap time together. even then, if gojo hadn't woke up first — it was going to be at least a four hours nap time.

"shit, y/n. wake up," he shook you gently, realizing you had been under his weight all this time, not moving; in the same position, the blanket around your body refusing to give you the access to move even an inch.

gojo unwraps the blanket delicately as you snored your exhaustion away, you had your arms by your side, and your legs were stiffly straight. it was a weird position, like you're standing — but horizontally. psycho.

"baby, wake up. we have to review the materials," it's a little ironic coming from the male who insisted that you should be the one slipping in breaks. he flicked your nose, making your eyelids twitch, "wake up, big baby."

"what time is it?"

gojo grimaces, "don't be angry but the sun isn't up anymore."

you sat up straight, looking at him. eyes tired, "what?"

failing a test because of gojo includes him reviewing the materials one more time before he has to leave — it didn't take long, because he actually took his sweet time correcting you, not even getting angry when you made a mistake in the same equations.

"that's right, you're gonna ace this make up test, baby. i just know it," he mutters out, kissing the side of your head, "'m sorry i made you fail."

"'ts okay, i suck at maths anyways. even if you didn't bother me, i'd still fail — thanks for being patient with me, 'toru."

"'m proud of you," he brushes your hair aside as you focused on the last two questions on the book, "good luck on the test," he whispers, leaning to the crook of your neck, burying his face in it like he belongs there.

"oh, i will. don't worry." you tell him confidently.

spoiler: you did in fact aced the test.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[kithtaehyung]

lollipop (3tan) (m) | myg

title: lollipop (m) | part one: summer bbq pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) | broken (pt. 2) rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after the summer cookout ends, you say goodnight to your brother and his best friend. but the latter just had to have a lollipop in his mouth… and had to make you aware of it hours later.  note: this is part two of the three tangerines drabble summer bbq! undisclosed whether these are in the main storyline or not, so it’s a standalone for now. note 2: also..... hope y'all read this in private :))) hahahah  warnings: yoongi is the biggest warning, but reader almost inches him out here🤭, no joke we may need to form a new line for reader, kissing, hella kissing, a mirror makes an appearance.. 🫣, tense situations, tender moments, lollipop gets its own warning i’m so serious, cocky yoongi lolll explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: july 22nd, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 7.3k💀💀💀

explicit warnings: food play (just roll with it😂), oral sex (m/f rec), masturbation, the struggle to keep quiet is real, mirrors are involved lord have mercy, spanking, breast play, multiple orgasms, yoongi hands, choking, fingering, face f*cking, titty shotsss, a little bit of manhandling and roughness but we love it🤭🤭, aftercare and cute cute reader afterwards

—

—

It’s not long until you’re snuggled under your covers, every limb in your body relieved to be at rest. From getting ready, cooking for hours, to general host duties—all while trying to avoid sin in human form—you’ve completely exhausted your living battery. 

But for some reason, sleepiness is out of reach. 

Tiredness? For sure. But sleep seems to elude you, and you toss and turn before giving up and turning your television on. 

It’s after you get through two episodes of something random and endless doomscrolling that you get a text. 

From the last person that should be texting you right now.

And your heart slams on every brake it has.

Yoongi [2:37am]: You up?  

Umm.

What.

Why is he asking you that? It’s quite possibly the worst time and type of message to receive right now. 

Don’t overthink it. He probably just needs extra hands to drag your brother back to his room again.

You [2:37am]: mmhmm 

You [2:37am]: you need me for something?

With a sigh, you rest your phone by your side.

The last time that happened was so long ago. Back when you were fighting off sickness and absentmindedly grabbing tangerines to snack on.

You wonder what that man wants this time around.

Yoongi [2:37am]: Haha nah

Yoongi [2:37am]: Just curious

Well that’s interesting.

Is he still in the backyard? Somewhere in the house? You knew he was staying over, but is he in the guest room with Jimin lying down like you are?

Why is that making your soul squeeze? 

You [2:38am]: yeah i am. can’t sleep :\

After hitting send, you feel more awake than ever, staring at your ceiling changing hues from the light of your tv. 

It kinda hurts knowing Yoongi’s the closest he could be tonight. 

On one hand, you still remain feeling safer than ever, having all of them here. But on the other, you’d much rather Yoongi be right next to you, heart beating under the same covers and eyes covering you in moonlight.

He’s so close and yet… 

So damn far. 

Yoongi [2:39am]: Same. 

Your arm slings right over your eyes.

How is one word from him enough to make your legs shift? That is something that needs to be studied, but alas, you would only be the subject if someone paid you for it.

What do you say now? You miss him so much it practically hurts? You want him to be lying next to you even though it’s the riskiest thing in the world?

Maybe start slow.

You [2:40am]: did you have fun today? 

Shit, was that a little too slow? Abnormal? It’s not like you two have as much small talk as other people. Though you wouldn’t mind any type of talking with him at all, casual small talk just isn’t on the list of defaults.

When you check the next text you get, it’s hard to keep your phone from falling onto your face.

Yoongi [2:42am]: I’ll tell you if you open the door :)

Huh.

So much for starting slow what the fuck! 

You [2:43am]: ???

You [2:43am]: front door? 

Yoongi [2:43am]: Yours

There have been many times in which this man has made you speechless. Some just for being so heartstoppingly handsome; others for being the most considerate person you’ve ever met.

But this time?

You can’t even form all the reasons why you can’t form words.

You [2:44am]: ?????

Yoongi [2:44am]: 🤨

Yoongi [2:44am]: Feel like this is pretty easy stuff, doll 

What is happening? What possessed your brother’s legitimate ride or die to stand at your door while still in the same house? When other people are also staying over?

You’re so close. He’s right there. You can see a slight shadow underneath the wooden frame and it’s making your stomach silly.

But you have to be sure.

You [2:45am]: is he asleep? 

Yoongi [2:45am]: Yeah he’s out 

Getting up, you already miss the warmth of your sheets as you tiptoe towards the only thing separating you from the man you’ve yearned for all day long.

Fuck. If this isn’t the worst decision you’re ever gonna make in your life.

But damn it, you already knew you were gonna let him in as soon as he asked.

After checking what you’re wearing before knowing it doesn’t matter, you open your door while fearing what it reveals. 

And Yoongi slowly enters through the night—freshly showered, still studded with jewelry, and decked in clean clothes while dirtying your mind to hell.

Because of the goddamn lollipop in his mouth.

“What’s going on,” you whisper, knowing your brother could wake up at any second. Maybe. Possibly. Everything bad is always possible when you’re paranoid about it—especially since Yoongi is in your room! “What are you doing?”

Your secret wastes no time as he quietly shuts and locks the door, hair shifting down his head in damp waves as he takes out the sucker,

“This.”

Silent, he pulls you in slow for a kiss, melting you down with ease. When he presses you into one of your walls, you know the only thing propping you up is his pelvis molding with your front. 

Already, your senses are on high alert, wondering how long Yoongi plans on staying because as much as you want him here forever, you still want him in one piece. 

But it’s getting hard to concentrate on consequences and scenarios when this man is infiltrating your every thought. His lips feel like summer and his fragrance reminds you of spring, and you immediately know it’s that subtly scented body wash you picked to put in the guest bathroom. 

Strange. You both have now used each others’ soap and showers. That has to mean something intimate, right? How many people can say that about one another and not look into it too much?

Well, he technically hasn’t used the shower in your bathr—

“You looked great today,” Yoongi whispers into your neck. 

His kiss there renders you speechless for what seems like eons. Today. Uh huh. What were you thinking just now? “Thank you,” you finally sigh, relishing in the way he’s holding your side. “So did you.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I mean.. You always do, so. Nothing new there.”

Yoongi quietly huffs a laugh before tugging your hips. But he doesn’t say anything in return, and you wonder if he didn’t have an answer or just didn’t feel the need to. 

So your nerves fill the space again. “Is it weird that I missed you? You were here the whole time.” 

“Mm.” His kisses traverse up your shivering throat, and his raspy answer has your eyes fluttering shut, “I get that.”

Fuck, you can’t deal with him. “Is.. Is that so..”

“People miss me all the time.”

A snort. “Ass.”

Yoongi immediately laughs into your skin. “But they aren’t here now, are they?” When you don’t respond with anything substantial, he squeezes the side of your ass. “Are they.”

“No,” you hitch out. “But you shouldn’t be here, either.”

“Tell me to leave then.”

Shit. You can’t. You both know you can’t. You try so hard to stifle a moan when you feel Yoongi grip an asscheek, his lips finding your ear at the same time he gives a firm smack.

“Do it, doll.”

“I…” Fuck, he’s surrounding you and there’s no way no way out. “I can’t.”

“Good.” Yoongi then slides your hand from his side down to his legs, placing it on his very big, very hard length. “Cus I can’t fucking stay away from you.” 

You grip him through his pants, pleased when he moans deep. “What if he wakes up?”

“He won’t,” your handsome rebel purrs. “Drank for hours.”

“You sure?”

“Course I am.” Yoongi slides a finger along the outline of your breasts. “He tried to keep up and lost.”

“Typical.” 

He keeps doing exactly what you want him to do. It’s quite scary how well he knows your body now, but you’d also like to think you have a good level of knowledge with his.

Especially when you reach up to twist his nipple. 

A groan mixed with dark chuckles has your knees shaking, and you prolong it by doing something else you know—or think you know—he likes,

“I think you’d like it if I kicked you out now.”

The volcano inside Yoongi rumbles. “Is that so?”

“It is,” you huff out in mock triumph, loving how his cock twitches against your hand. “Or am I wrong?”

He flicks his eyes to yours before holding a gaze. A look so telling, and full, and searing. When his mouth flicks upward, he admits,

“I’d love it.”

Laughing as softly as you can, you stop to simply hug him. Leaning forward until your head rests, feeling the most at home and happy hearing his own amusement vibrating through his clothes. 

And just like that, you’re conflicted. 

What the hell are you doing? Even though passed out and sloshed, your brother could still wake up. It’s not like he’s totally gone. And if he catches his best friend in your room? There’s no telling what damage could be dealt.

Actually, the damage could be told in gruesome detail.

But the way Yoongi’s filling the distance from today, you really don’t want to stop. In fact, you don’t even want to pretend to shoo him off.

So this is your first step onto a precarious, unpredictable tightrope. A step you are very okay taking. 

“Babe?”

Shit, you got lost again. When you find your way back, Yoongi’s concern materializes at once,

“If you really aren’t down—”

“Fuck it.” 

Your kiss digs into his face so hard you strike gold, rewarded with a growl so potent it disrupts your core. Lightning zaps through your veins at the hands squeezing your hips, and you buck with a desperation that’s been stockpiling all day long.

Sliding along the wall, you notice that Yoongi tastes like alcohol and sugar, and you wanna lick every crevice you can reach, drunk off his cockiness and audacity alone. 

It’s no use fighting this. He’s really in your room, making out with you like a demon while the house is filled with your brother’s sleeping friends.

Fuck, you two could really get caught here.

The swirl in your belly keeps you on your toes, transforming your movements into sharp, hasty tugs on his clothes, hemlines, hair. You’re practically acting like you’ve never had him before and want to make up for all those missed opportunities.

Not like it’s any different every time.

But you’re quelled by a calm hand on your wrist. “As much as I like you like this,” Yoongi whispers across your cheek, “You can’t be too loud, baby girl.”

Your silent question must’ve escaped past your teeth. Because you hear a deep chuckle before shivers run down your spine,

“If you aren’t quiet enough I’m gonna fix that.”

Oh. Fuck.

“I didn’t even know I was talking,” you admit, body creasing in embarrassment and a bit of nervous laughs. Your grin cannot be contained by the fingers you slide up to cover it. “Oh, my god.” 

“What?” Yoongi’s devilish look is even more potent in the flashing lights of your television. “You serious?”

When you scrunch in deeper admittance, he flashes teeth with a wider smile than yours. It’s a prelude to the way he launches your heartbeat, his scent mesmerizing and his fingers lethal on the back of your neck. 

“Adorable.”

You groan into his swooping kiss, the rush of a thousand rivers carrying you to bliss. Breaths intertwined, the pair of you can’t seem to part until Yoongi accidentally shoulders something at his side.

Your mirror? When did you both travel so far that you got here? 

He lets off with a pop to steady the wavering furniture piece, pausing to make sure it’s stable before looking at the movie playing nearby.

And you watch in curiosity as he backs further into your room, eyeing himself in the mirror while slotting the sucker back into his mouth.

God. How did you forget he was still holding that?

And why can’t you move even as he turns around, even as he glances at the tv, even as he sits on the edge of your bed?

Move. Walk. Do something!

In the end, you can’t.

Because Yoongi’s stare alone gives you first time jitters, like you’ve never even conversed or much less slept with him before. 

How the fuck are you gonna get through the night? 

Swallowing and shooting one more look at your door, you pad your way to him, knowing he sees your nipples poking through your shirt and assuming there’s not much else you’re wearing. 

And he’s right. 

As you stop at Yoongi’s knees, you watch as he gives the lollipop another slow suck, groaning at the red smeared across his tainted lips.

That’s it. It’s decided. There’s no way you’re making it out alive.

“Get up here.”

Obliging but unhurried, you mount his lap, your heart skipping at the way he enjoys your shirt riding up your thighs.

So that damn sucker is gonna stay in his mouth? 

Min Yoongi is your enemy tonight.

Your nemesis, in fact. Even if he slides both free hands up your ass like that fuck he squeezes so expertly. Fuck. 

It’s keeping everything in you to hide your moan, your head falling forward as he slightly lifts you to drop you onto his comfy sweats.

When he chuckles in your ear, your muscles lock. And when he pops the lolly out of his mouth, you crumble at his mercy. “You were lucky to be off-limits today, doll.” 

“What…” You tense at another grip to your ass. “What do you mean.”

As you eye the silver around his neck, Yoongi’s smirk pours weight on your legs. “If you weren’t? There’s no telling what I would’ve done.”

You don’t think you’ve ever gulped so deeply. What toe-curling secrets is he hiding? Today could have gone a much, much different route depending on what he’d spill. “Tell… Tell me anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

The man below you huffs quick, and you watch the corner of his mouth lift at a dangerous angle. “Would’ve kept you in that bathroom,” he divulges, voice dragging across the rattled surface of your brain. “Bent you over the sink.”  

Your breath hitches when he gets close, lips caressing your ear but words striking through your chest, “Just so you could watch me fuck you in that sundress.” 

“Fuck.”

“Uh uh,” Yoongi coos, chuckle so, so deep. “Quiet, baby girl.”

“I just…” It’s already hard to think around this demon of a person. But it’s even more difficult when he’s got your ear in his teeth. “Wait.” 

As he pulls away, the light of your television highlights his features. And you find that this specific, comforting look of attentiveness is what attracts you the most. 

Now that you can think clearly, you remember exactly what you were gonna do. It’s simple but significant nonetheless. 

Because your dress from today is in the laundry already. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have another one. Another very particular one he may remember, in fact. 

“Go over there,” you whisper, smile wide as you dismount. “Turn around.” 

When he wordlessly asks what you’re up to, a single finger presses against your lips before you assure, “Just trust me.” 

The way his brows scrunch makes your cheeks hurt as you watch him get up and swivel, endeared by the casual lean on your wall and the lollipop stuck in his cheek. Just as his head falls in waiting, you slip into your closet, darkness getting even darker as you enter.

Due to an afterthought, you pop your head out. “No peeking in the mirror.”

“Uh huh.”

Satisfied, you go back to your lightless search. 

You know exactly what you’re going for. It’s too easy for you to locate your chosen piece of clothing before stripping and changing as orderly as you can. 

Okay. This is okay because you’re alone, right? No one else is here. Technically. Okay.

As you make your way out, a million nerves pop and fizzle under moonlight. The air surrounding your bare shoulders proves charged. Electric enough to send shivers down to your pedicured toes.

Composing yourself before you break, you softly catch his attention as you eye the sucker poised in his fingers,

“Ready.”

The moon waits.

Your breath follows.

And when Yoongi turns, you know you’ll never forget this moment. It feels exactly like the time in that restaurant long ago, but more potent. Shimmering. 

Because you’re wearing the same sundress he witnessed you in on the night of Dom’s party. 

And you’ve never been so delighted to see the stars in his eyes go dark.

You expect him to call you over. Whether with words or not, you’re gonna do whatever he wants—because it’s what you want… too…

Yoongi’s aura billows as he closes the distance himself. No words. No gestures. Just step by breath-taking step, air around him so charged and commanding that your knees threaten to buckle. 

For reasons you won’t admit, your mouth can’t even create sounds. All you want to ask is if he likes the dress, or if he even cares you aren’t as dressed up as before. 

Of course he wouldn’t give a single shit. But you can’t stop yourself from these thoughts just yet. 

Swallowing, you stare as he rolls the sucker in his mouth, eyes in no other direction but yours. “You, umm. Does this one work instead? The other one is in the—”

Quick isn’t fast enough to describe what’s happening, your shoulders pressing into the nearest wall as your lips get consumed by lust and possession. Everything in your body tingles, and for a split second you wonder how Yoongi managed to swing you around so swift with barely a sound. 

Stars fly from your eyes before they slip shut, pouring want onto his veins as he circles strong arms across your waist. Sparks erupt the scant distance between your hips and his, and you are once again reminded why you feel so high-strung. 

There are so many people staying over. Not just Yoongi and Jimin. From what you can recall, at least ten people are passed out around the house, any of which could wake up for a bathroom break or something at any second. 

And yet. You will not tell this man to leave. Truthfully, this is exhilarating and all you’re doing is ki—

“Get down there.”

Oh, fuck. 

This is the new point of no return. 

If you do this, not only will Yoongi be a goner, but so will you. Both of you would never, ever come back from this. 

But that fucking lollipop…

Screw everything to hell.

Your smile grows with his, lip bitten in the throes of your newfound excitement. You already feel how rock solid he is through his pants, and you make it a point to stroke him on the way to the ground. 

There’s so little room that your ass skims the wall, your chest the second part to slide along his covered length and causing him to groan out a curse. 

Is there a shift here? Did you change the whole dynamic with one move? Maybe you’re the one with the power now. 

“Look at me.”

Ah. Maybe not.

Obedient, you stare upward, catching the fire in Yoongi’s eyes as he gives the sucker one more pass in his mouth. 

God, he makes it look so enticing. It’s just a piece of candy but you’ve never been this desperate to have one, too. Or be the one treated with his tongue like that goddamn does he have to make it seem so erotic?

With a pop, Yoongi releases the stick, lips shiny and tainted in the television lights. When he lowers it, you realize it’s descending—farther and farther—until it stops in front of your face. 

And shivers overtake you.

“Suck.” 

Well. You’ve never done something like this before. In all the relationships you’ve been in, you have never experienced anything like this. Much less in your own house. 

Which makes your eyes flare and the monster in your belly rumble, fire hissing from its nose and prying your mouth open to do exactly what you were told. 

“That’s my girl.”

Sugar coats your tongue immediately. Glowing, the heat in your core stokes embers, warning with each loll, each cave of your cheeks. You treat the candy so tenderly Yoongi will deny jealousy, and your lips pucker and puff with a sheen. 

Are you glistening as much as his eyes? Are you causing him as much grief as he has put you through?

You damn well hope so. Yoongi isn’t the only one that’s gonna unleash his needs from the whole day. 

So you keep sucking with closed eyes, swirling your tongue around the lolly and licking it just how you would his tip. It tastes like sweet rebellion, but also late nights with your friends. And with a fleeting thought, you know said friends would grill you if they ever found out this was happening.

Maybe Tae would just laugh his ass off. 

Fuck, this is so unbelievably risky. Your door is locked, sure. But the guest room is still very much missing an occupant and one look in there and at Yoongi’s car in the street would cause an eruption.

Through the haze of your thoughts, you hear shuffling and a low droning grunt. 

With one glance, you know Yoongi is crumbling. The shadowed promises under his bangs make you preen, and you remain on the precipice of anxiousness and glee.

“Keep that tongue out for me.”

Clearly, he doesn’t give a shit about risk.

So gladly, you oblige, flinching when the lollipop is replaced by something you’re much more familiar with, and your eyes bat on instinct as you know exactly what to do with this one.

When did he shove his pants down? Were you that lost in your sticky treat that you didn’t even notice? 

Doesn’t matter. You feel his beautiful weight on your stained tongue and it’s second nature to pleasure. When you grab hold of his base, you give one more suck before popping him out of your mouth to lick down.

For someone that’s been shushing you, Yoongi’s groan is not quiet, and you pause just in time to see him grit his teeth with a nose scrunched to hell.

And his attention is sideways. What is he…

Oh. Fuck.

You can see yourself in your mirror on the other wall. 

Is that… you? The one looking back with a visage so arousing your breath stops? If this is the person that Yoongi brings out you actually feel your confidence inflate like a parade balloon.

“So fucking hot.”

When you laugh in shyness, his eyes slide shut in agony as he rakes through his hair. Crumbling inside, you offer a compliment of your own, 

“You’re so unfair when you do that.” 

Yoongi has the audacity to grin wide as he grips his long strands. “This?” 

“Ugh. Whatever.” You wanna smack that smirk right off his face.

So you keep going, loving the way his walls and defenses are back to shattering at your knees. From your inappropriate level of experience with his cock, you go for what you know. Licking his underside, swirling around the tip, sucking just the first bit, gathering spit all over before taking him in deep. 

The smells around you coalesce into something potent. With the fruitiness of the lolly and the headiness of Yoongi, it’s pure bliss in your nostrils and you soak it all in. There’s no pause in your sucking, licking, tugging him rough. You’re giving it your all and feeling the effects between your legs. 

Suddenly. 

Huffs litter around your sundress as Yoongi yanks himself out, sticking the sucker in your mouth again while holding your head. And his smile puts devils to shame when he scoffs, “Unfair, my ass.”

You giggle, sliding the pop up and down your outstretched tongue before slowly pushing it in. When you watch one of his veiny hands grip his cock, your brain resets and rewires, prompting you to be a little bit more daring.

As if this whole situation wasn’t daring enough.

You coyly slide one of your sundress straps down your arm, slowly revealing the top of a breast before going for the other side. Not enough to show everything. But enough to give him a much better view from above. 

And the sound you hear in response causes pulses between your legs,

“What the fuck.”

Satisfied, you ride this high of praise and keep diligently sucking on the lolly, watching him pump himself until you can’t can’t can’t take it anymore.

It all happens in quick succession, your hand outright slapping the lollipop out of his hand before grabbing for him, shaky fingers knocking into his slick ones before slipping his dick in your mouth.

“Shit—”

His scent captures your nostrils as he bucks forward, knocking your throat and causing your gag to hit the wall. When you keep sucking, Yoongi grabs your chin, chains swaying as he rocks in, out, in, out again.

Drool and spit cover your neck, seeping onto his fingers as he keeps them where he wants. Imagining how you look in the mirror makes you moan, and imagining Yoongi watching everything from his view makes your cunt leak onto your thighs. 

Fuck you wanna watch, too. What does that say about you? You’re legitimately jealous that you can’t see yourself taking Yoongi so deep he’s cursing in strings. 

When you choke, it’s disgustingly loud, so he has to pull out once again just to command, “Quiet.”

“Ye—” 

He’s shoved back in before you can finish one syllable, back out after a single suck before he drives his point home, “Understand?” 

“Y—”

Your words are pushed down your throat again, the intensity Yoongi’s exuding rolling your eyes back and shaking your muscles. Spent and unable to speak, you nod around him, and your arms are suddenly gathered against the wall until you’re fully flushed, held up by one of his strong hands.

“Good girl.”

You brace yourself for his complete control, dick sliding down your throat and pushing tears out of your eyes. Breathing through your nose, you keep your tongue flat, taking him in until your full body gag alerts him to pull out. 

As soon as he does, you buckle straight towards the mirror, eyes bursting with shock as you drink in the man watching your heaving, shimmering chest.

“This is what you do to me, doll.” When you shift your attention upward, you gulp at his smile of pride. “Can you stand?” 

“I…” Holy shit, he fucked the voice right out of you. “I think so.” 

“Here.” 

You place your hand in his, muscles in your legs stinging at the change in position. When you go slow, Yoongi lets you, and your lips curve tenderly at the way he kisses you at your peak. 

“You almost made me come,” he whispers, chuckling when you watch his eyes. “Fuckin’ hustler.” 

“You didn’t want to?” 

“Not yet.” Winking, Yoongi gives you another peck before getting close. 

As you look in the mirror, you catch the way he kisses along your neck, his hair tickling your skin and his arms bent as he holds yours. It’s almost enough to make you feel higher than royalty, now knowing what it looks like to be feasted on by a king.

“Promise me something,” he rasps. 

“Anything,” you whisper in confidence.

“It’s your turn now.” Another kiss to your ear makes you flinch. “But if you’re too loud that’s all you get.” 

Bold statement coming from the guy that couldn’t stay silent. But you’re far too gone to dwell on the past so all you can do is nod in understanding. You need this. After today? You really fucking need this.

Yoongi tucks himself back in his sweats before kissing your neck again, lips leaving a trail along the tracks left by your own actions. When he gets to your chest, he gets to unwrap another treat, slowly peeling your dress down to suck on a nipple. 

You almost cut the whole thing short. 

A hand flies up over your mouth, and you watch your face twist in anguish in the glass. Sparks tingle from where Yoongi slides his tongue, and seeing this man in action from another viewpoint launches you across the edge instead of right to it. 

You’re gonna get yourself caught. There’s no way you aren’t crying out by the time he’s done but goddamn you’ve got to keep it toge—

Deft fingers rub your other nipple, causing your body to jump forward and Yoongi to chuckle into your chest. After he squeezes, you watch as he pops off your tit. “What’d I say.” 

This is the hardest thing you’ve ever done! 

You can only shake your head, hand still preventing your mouth to move and your throat stinging from suppressed screams. 

“That’s what I thought,” Yoongi quips before kissing the rest of your dress downward. 

And the fucker didn’t even look back at the mirror. Like he already knows exactly what he looks like or doesn’t care in the slightest. All he’s focused on is you and you alone, and you’re so enamoured that you watch his head below you, too. 

Calmly and surely, Yoongi lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing along your skin and gripping you tight. When he lifts a brow upward, you nod downward, bracing yourself for him to notice something else you had planned to show.

Works like a sinful charm. His reaction could be felt better than seen. 

Because as soon as he notices that you don’t have any underwear on, Yoongi pours out dark amusement before giving your cunt the deepest kiss it’s ever felt.

A mewl smushes into your fingers as you cave, eyes shutting so tight as he eats you out like a man starved and never satiated. 

His licks hit just right, and the way he tongues you causes stars to pierce your eyes through. Over and over and over, Yoongi is merciless in how he pleasures, and your esophagus burns and burns and burns. 

Both your legs quake as he slips a finger under his tongue, and your eyes fly open just in time to see yourselves in the mirror again. 

Holy fuck.

You’ve always known this man was attractive. Overwhelmingly so, in fact. But seeing him on his knees and knowing it’s not a dream makes you so dizzy your brain can’t keep up. 

Yoongi’s hands flex on your skin with each minuscule grip, and his hair bunches as he moves between your legs. Your thigh covers his face, but maybe that’s for the best, because you don’t think you could handle watching his tongue while feeling it inside. 

“So fucking wet,” he hisses out before diving in again, and you use your other hand to grapple a chunk of his drying hair. “Fuck.”

Yes, keep going. He’s so close to making you come you squeeze even harder. By now, your whole upper body is burning with unreleased yells and your lower body is suffering just as much. He’s too good. Way too good for a quiet house.

You can’t hold it in. You can’t you can’t you can’t.

“Yoongi, please”—your legs start to twinge with want and pending release—“Gonna come, I—”

Everything snaps as soon as he reaches to grope your ass, tugging you forward to lick a spot that has you vibrating like mad. 

And your orgasm is so potent that your knees legitimately buckle, your body slipping with no purchase before you catch yourself on the wall. Waves hit you from all directions and you let out one yelp before you feel a moist hand clamp over your lips.

Oh, he’s standing now. Oh, he’s fingering you. Oh fuck, he’s talking you through your orgasm and you can’t understand him but your body reacts either way. 

“—another one for me.”

Your pulses wreck your body into angles, each one shifting into another as your mouth is still covered. Yoongi’s fingers prove fatal as he leads you into a second paradise, and you cry into his hand as you come into his other—harder, stronger. 

“Just like that, doll, fuck.”

Tears stream down your cheeks again as you lift, soaring into the summer skies and leaping over sleeping souls. It’s too much to keep inside. Too powerful to not let out all at once. 

“—this fucking dress.”

You don’t know what’s being said. Nor do you care. Your body is so spent from the vicious tempest and all the energy leaves you at once. 

“Uh uh.”

What. 

“One more for me,” Yoongi goads. “And you’re gonna watch this time.” 

Your chest beats and beats as his fingers pump slow, and your head lolls to the side as you catch sight of your salacious act in the mirror. 

Immediately, you know exactly why he said that. Watching the way his arms bulge with effort is encouragement enough to stay upright. With each thrust, you can see your dress hitching with your arches, and Yoongi dives into your neck to strike lightning. 

“Baby—” You feel it. You feel a third wave incoming and its crest seems higher than the rest. 

“Come for me,” he whispers, his dark bangs peeking from behind your neck in the mirror and his throat stretching out. “And don’t fucking scream.” 

Fuck! Your hand grips your mouth so bad it will leave soreness. But water pulls you under and twists you like a ragdoll. Unlike the other times, this orgasm quivers your legs to the point where Yoongi teases. And he can’t stop praising you for being naughty, for letting him in here, for letting him destroy you while everyone’s here.

“I love it,” you whoosh out into his throat, voice cracked and chipped. “Fuck, I love it.” 

“I know you do.” Another deep set of laughs. “You’re a problem.”

Head lolling forward, you slowly slip right into Yoongi’s arms before he helps you stand. “Come on,” he leads, walking you a short distance to your bed before chuckling at your cartoonish collapse.

Some moments pass. One, two, four or five more. Even the room seems to swim a little in your vision when you struggle to open your eyes. 

Finally, after breathing hard, you can only manage a gravelly, “Holy shit.” 

Yoongi laughs soft before wiping your forehead. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you exhale, chest heaving and heaving. “I’ll be good.” 

Fingers still wisping across your face, he praises, “So beautiful.” 

You finally calm your pulse before you slide your hand over his cock. “Did you come?” 

“Nah.” 

Looks like you aren’t done. “Mm,” you whisper, trying your best to prop yourself up. “Lie down for me.” 

“You sure?” 

You nod with heavy eyes, and he slowly occupies your bed while you caress him again. So smooth and so tender before squeezing just right. 

It’s already almost enough because Yoongi throws his head onto your pillow. “Goddamn.”

When you slip his sweats down, you use willpower alone to consume him again. You will not rest until he’s fully content, too. With this in mind, your cheeks and jaw work overtime. 

You want this, want this, want this. He gave you the world and then some, you can run on fumes to make him a mess. After all, you’re drunk off the pleasurable cocktail he just concocted with his tongue. This will carry you despite your functioning levels in the trenches. 

“Babe—”

For a split second, you forget where you are. Your eyelids droop so low and your body twinges with aftershocks as you spit right onto his cock, sliding your lips along his pretty length before you feel him tug your sheets.

“Shit.”

He’s close. He doesn’t even have to tell you. You can tell by the way his body reacts and bends and folds, and you quickly decide what that means for you.

Because you could swallow. 

But you instead make your way to the floor, commanding him before realizing just how authoritative and raspy you sound, 

“Sit up.”

Right as he does, you pump him right above your exposed chest, shocking him so abruptly his low groan shakes your core,

“Oh, fuck—”

Hot, thick spurts land all over you, his release your only focus and not the pain in your knees from hitting the floor in round two. As his head rolls back, you watch with heightened pride, loving the way he looks lost in delicious, honeyed ecstasy.

And just like that, both of you are satisfied. Both of you got what you needed and wanted from this… hot summer… day…

There was a sound outside your door, further down the hall but fucking close enough. 

And holy shit his cum is on your tits.

Holy shit holy shit this is the absolute last thing you should’ve let him do what the fuck what the fuck! 

If anyone sees you like this you are both finished. Cooked. Banished.

You glance at the door, body locking and hands massive weights at your side. 

One second. 

Two seconds. 

You’re fully awake now. 

Four seconds. 

Nothing else happens. Your ears strain wildly but you don’t hear any noises in succession, and you wonder if it was just a snore or something similar. 

Sighing, you breathe out relief before peering straight up.

And the look you get in return is pure, primal hunger. 

Yoongi’s never looked like this. Maybe he’s come close that one time before, but this is much different. 

What is this? His pupils are magnified and his lids are lowered in fire, stoking the heat within you and clutching your cunt with his eyes alone. You’re so wet that you can come again if he so much as touched you. “Baby?” 

Yoongi simply grazes your cheek with his knuckles. “Just want this in my phone so fucking bad.” 

Oh. Well, fuck. 

You blink at his shamelessness. But it makes you so exhilarated and shy that you resort to your default—cracking jokes. Of all the things he could’ve mentioned like the sound outside or possibly getting caught and dragged to hell he decides he wants your pictures in his phone. Right.

“Happy you painted me like Picasso?” You laugh before you can even finish, but so does Yoongi as he throws his head back. 

Immediately, the atmosphere calms. “You heard that earlier?” 

“He’s an idiot.” 

“He is.” Yoongi helps you up and onto your bed before he asks, “Towels in your bathroom?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Under the sink.”

You watch as he goes to fetch them, heart pulsing extra hard at his consideration. When he bustles around in a room you use everyday, it’s surreal to witness. Both unnatural, but so natural at the same time. 

He’s careful not to make loud sounds, gently closing your cabinets and coming back with a cloth he ran under water.

A sudden pang hits your chest and you have no clue why.

Is it because you’ll never see him in there again? Or is it because of the conversation you just brought up? 

Maybe both. The convo from earlier today still rings in your ears, everyone hounding Yoongi about the scratches you left on his back. They were old but still very visible. You need to be more mindful of what you can and can’t do right now. 

As Yoongi wipes your shivering chest, you ask something that’s been weighing on your mind, “Did I get you in even more trouble?” 

He just looks at you before finishing his cooling task, raising straps back onto your shoulders. “Course you did.” 

Ah. He didn’t seem bothered, but your apology follows him as he goes to pick up the abandoned candy from earlier. “Sorry. I didn’t think about it at the time.” 

“S’ok. Hope you’re fine being some chick from outta town, though.” 

Your chuckle hurts your throat on the way out. Not from disappointment, but from the very man you’re talking to. “I can deal with that. Is she nasty?” 

It takes a bit for him to discard everything. When he comes back, he bends down to answer, 

“So fuckin’ nasty.” 

You giggle right into his kiss. Fully spent, your arms around his neck pull him in close, and his rough laugh makes your legs even weaker. “Can’t believe we just did all that.”

“Same.”

“Guess you like the dress, huh?”

A hand comes up to squeeze your thigh. “Dunno. Might have to see it again when the sun’s out.”

“Ass.”

“You get it.”

“Wow.” 

Yoongi hisses amusement, shifting to lay beside you across your bed. When he does, light from the window hits him just right, and you fall silent at once.

So perfect. So unfair.

“I think this is my favorite,” you admit, not giving him full context. So when he wordlessly asks for it, you reach up and caress his cheek. “When you look happy.”

“I am,” he says after a pause. “Cus of you.”

You feel starlight in your own eyes. “I’m happy, too.”

For this, Yoongi doesn’t need to ask for more context at all.

The lingering fear of being caught is still there, but it’s not as present now. Maybe it’s because you’re both content again, but you don’t feel too stressed. 

Did you want to get caught that whole time? Surely not when things were going down.

But what about now? If someone saw you lost in each others’ stars, would you care if they plucked you from the sky? 

Staring into this man’s eyes, you can’t bring yourself to say you would. 

“When will I see you again?” you blurt out of nowhere.

At this, Yoongi props his head up with an elbow. “When do you want to?”

“Tomorrow.”

His chest bobs with his laugh. “I’ll make sure to see you before I head out then.” 

You nod, eyes shutting when Yoongi goes in for another kiss. 

Another kiss is how you frame it. Because a final kiss is too painful to think about. 

Yoongi has to leave. You know he literally cannot stay.

But facts and logic don’t make this parting any easier, and your heart breaks when he slips out of your bed.

It’s too soon. Yes, it’s also way past the time he should be in your room, but it’s too fucking soon. 

Your chest burns. Sears make fiery ridges along your ribs until they overtake your heart, creeping closer and closer.

Until Yoongi bends to kiss you again, fingers slotting into yours and squeezing some liquid out of your eyes. 

But his rasp gives you pause, “I did, by the way.”

Blinking, you feel him swipe at oncoming tears when you ask, “You did what?”

“Have fun.”

Oh. Wait, he’s answering the text you sent? You already forgot about that. Ages ago. “Good,” you say with a slight ghost of a smile. “It looked like you were having a good time. And I.. Really liked seeing you laugh.”

Yoongi just stares, thoughts and emotions skimming across his eyes. When you reach up to cradle his cheek, they then slip shut, brows dipping as he presses into you further. “You were the reason,” he admits with no hesitation.

Don’t cry more. Not now.

He gives you one more hug, and you cradle his head into your skin. “Good night, baby,” you whisper so softly, planting a kiss on his cheek. 

When he does the same to yours, you wonder if his reaction was also reminiscent of tiny sparklers on a summer night. 

“Night, doll.” 

The steps he takes all stomp on your heart. 

But you find solace in the hopeful future. One where you can stand next to him at summer barbecues, or host them with him, or just simply be anywhere with him. 

But mostly, you’re yearning for a future where you don’t have to keep watching him leave through a door. 

But come back through one.

-

-

fin. :)

-

🍭so... how did it go!🍭 | join the server! | join the taglist!

a/n: thank you to everyone that has stuck around while i took my huge rest! it was a little strange to not be here everyday talking to you all, but looking back, the resting and step back was needed. although it looks like some people left - whether the blog or in general - i am happy to see so many familiar and new people! let's keep having fun with the 3tanverse and beyond, yeah? a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! i'll be here to talk and scream with y'all whenever, and it should be more frequent now. also be on the lookout for some physical copy interest checks! we are getting closer to 3tan copies being A Real Thing! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[eternally-racing]

racer girl | lando norris

pairing: dad! Lando x wife! reader (+ their adorable little kiddo)

wc: 1.3k

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: Lando's more than apprehensive when his daughter wants to try karting for the first time, but luckily you're there to hold his hand through it all.

note: this fic is part of the racer girl collection but can also be read as a stand alone !

----- The request came on the list your daughter, Piper, wrote for Santa, and as soon as you saw it you ran to go show your husband, Lando. “Go karting” was written in scraggly letters.

You had anticipated it to be a joyous event in the Norris household. None of you ever put any pressure on your daughter to follow in either of your footsteps, but the image of your little girl in a racing suit just like her daddy made you smile. You surprised Lando with the when you both were cleaning up after dinner, but the reaction you got is nothing like what you expected.

“She’s not going karting. End of story”

“It’s what she wants, Lan, and I think it makes perfect sense.” 

“It’s TOO dangerous. That’s my little girl out there.” 

You’ve never seen Lando look this serious in his life. He’s not being overdramatic or overzealous, but there’s a fire behind his eyes that tells you that he’s dead set on this. 

“Do you think your mother was ecstatic when she found out her son was in love with one of the most dangerous sports in the world? Probably not, but she let you do it anyway. Because you loved it, and who knows, maybe Piper’s gonna love it like her daddy.” 

This is why Lando loves you. You're always realistic and you keep him grounded while he floats away into overthinking on situations like this.

“I guess I’m just scared for her,” Lando says more quietly, taking a seat on the couch and curling in on himself. You’re quick to join him and cuddle into his side.

“You’ve seen what I’ve been through Y/N - the training, the crashes, the missed birthdays and weddings, the mental toll, how can you still say you want her to do this knowing all of that?”  

You sigh as you take Lando’s hands in yours. You rub your thumb over the back of his hands while you ask him your next question.

“Looking back, do you regret anything, Lan? Would you give up racing entirely if you had the chance to start all over again?”

He shakes his head in denial instantly, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as you lay with one another.

“We’re not committing to her becoming a Formula 1 driver, babe. She just grew up seeing her daddy do this really cool thing and wants to give it a try, and I don’t think it’s the worst thing if we let her.”

Lando buries himself further into your neck and he mumbles his next words. “Our little girl is growing up, isn’t she?” 

You don’t reply back with your words, but Lando understands you perfectly as you cuddle further into his side. 

- - - - - - 

It’s a rare instance when Lando tosses you the keys to drive to the track. He protects his McLaren like it’s his second child, but from the way his knee is bouncing in the passenger seat you know that he’s in no state to drive. It’s a perfectly mild cloudy day, yet Lando is wearing these ridiculous wide rimmed sunglasses that you can only assume he found in a hurry while foraging through your shared bathroom. While you may not tease him much for it since you know they’re covering his teary eyes, your daughter is still just as merciless and cheeky as her father usually is. Lando teaches her the word “allergies” on the drive down as he’s coming up with excuses for his sniffly state. 

When Piper first gets a helmet, she runs right past you to get her daddy to put it on her. She’s serious when she tells him not to make it “tew tight”, but Lando’s hands are shaking so much that he can hardly get the buckles done up anyways. She barely spares you both a second glance and Lando has to pull her back to give her a quick kiss on the helmet before she goes off. You both wrap her in your embrace and give her a squeeze until she’s telling you it’s time to let go, and Lando only gets halfway through his dad talk of “we can leave at any time if you get scared and I’m gonna be standing right here supporting you” before she’s already dashing away again. Piper is barely going past a crawling speed in the kart but something about the sight tugs at your heart. You’re used to this feeling, watching half your heart racing away while you’re on the sidelines, but you realize this is the first time Lando’s been in this position instead of being the one in the car. You reach for his hand and hold it tight as you lay your head on his shoulder. You two had so many “firsts” with your daughter: first steps, first time you left her at home, first words, and so much more, but none of them compared to this feeling of watching her karting for the first time. 

The first time Piper bumps into a wall Lando says that he thinks he’s gonna throw up and you have to almost physically hold him back from running out there to her. Once you see a big thumbs up from your daughter to confirm she’s okay, the whole situation earns a little giggle from you and you reply back with Lando with “imagine instead of going into the wall at 3km/h it’s actually 313km/h and you’re watching the father of your children crash.” 

Lando’s never seen your point of view before like this. You spent years on the paddock as the worried girlfriend, then as the worried fiance, then as the worried wife, and then finally as the worried pregnant wife (probably the worst situation of all since you were already nauseous anyways). You never once pushed him into retiring for the sake of your family - you could see the joy the sport brought him and he always appreciated your respect for that. He thinks having to watch on the sidelines might be even harder than actually being on the track, and he looks at you with a newfound appreciation for your strength as you cheer on your daughter.

“Thank you.” Lando whispers to you with a little crack in his voice.

It’s more than a thank you for convincing him to let Piper do this - it’s a thank you for supporting him all these years, through all the ups and downs of his racing career. You only hold onto him tighter as a response, pulling out your phone too to capture the moment. Whether Piper continues in motorsport or not, you know this is a moment that you’ll both treasure forever. 

That night Piper begs for you both to put on the home video of Lando’s first karting win while she eats her supper. You’ve never seen your daughter this happy before, and you know from the look on Lando’s face that he thinks the same. It’s only after she retells her experience in karting from start to finish for the 4th time over that you’re able to finally bargain with her to go to sleep. Her one concession is that she sleep with her helmet in her bed, an action that brings the tears right back to the forefront of Lando’s eyes since that was something he did as a kid too.

“Our baby girl is going to be the first ever female driver in formula 1” he cooes as you both stand at the foot of her bed. “Typical Lando” you call out, not surprised one bit that he’s gone from banning his daughter from stepping foot into a kart to imagining her future in motorsport history all within the span of a couple of days. You have to slow him down before he starts going off on a tangent about the best places to train and the moments he can’t wait for her to experience in the sport. But at the end of the day you’re so happy that Lando came around on this (an “i told you so” or two sometimes slip out when the topic comes up), and you know that it’s going to be a fun journey being karting parents for as long as Piper wants to do so. 

----

author's note: this was such a fun one to write <3 you'll probably see a lot more dad! Lando on my page in the future! If you have any dad! Lando scenarios (or any scenarios really) that you want me to write, feel free to drop them in my ask box! Until next time <3 - Em

[lordprettyflackotara]

easy silence || sam golbach

smut minors dni 18+. this is the fluffiest shit i can produce guys sorry

You were the best thing in Sam’s life.

He glanced down at you sleeping, your eyes fluttered shut and chest rising and falling slowly. You were curled up against his chest, ever so often nuzzling your face against his bare skin. His arm was securely wrapped around you, holding you as you blissfully danced in dreamland. Sam brushed some stray hairs out of your face, listening to the slow and even breaths you took.

In a world full of chaos, particularly one that Sam lived as a content creator, you seemed to be his peace. He found refuge when he was with you. You were a normal girl, one that opted to stay out of the spotlight. Your identity was hidden, your desire for clout and fame nonexistent. You stayed behind the camera, giggling ever so often at one of the boys jokes. You adored Sam for what he truly was, a young man with aspirations and wild adventures. You even got along with Colby, who you also took care of. It wasn’t a question with you as to whether or not you could handle his friendship with him. When you cooked, you always cooked for the three of you without a second thought. You always asked how Colby was. When both him and Colby were sick you took care of them both without question.

You created easy silence in a life full of overstimulating constant noise.

Sam pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, admiring your beauty. You stirred ever so slightly, your eyes slowly blinking open. “Hi Sammy,” You greeted, your throat dry. Sam felt bad, having woken you up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” He apologized. You gave him a sleepy smile, shaking your head. “Relax, you know I always sleep in. It’s probably noon by now anyways right?” You asked. The two of you were in a hotel near the Lizzie Borden house, the boys investigating it until dawn the night prior. You were their enthusiastic cameraman, who passed out from exhaustion the moment you both returned to your hotel room. Sam struggled with consistent sleep, his mind always running a mile an hour. Somehow sleeping beside you made it easier, but he always woke up first out of habit.

Sam grabbed his phone, checking the time. You playfully hissed at the brightness, hiding your face in his chest. “It’s about 1:30,” Sam concluded, tossing his phone aside. You re-emerged from hiding, yawning. “Sounds about right, you shower yet?” You hummed. Sam shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. His morning had already been stressful, twitter having a field day with attempting to cancel him for the prices of his and Colby’s merch. “Hey stop it, you’re overthinking again,” You say, poking at him. You’d been with Sam so long you knew his facial expressions to a T. His eyebrows would furrow and eyes would harden whenever he was deep in thought. To anyone else he looked concentrated, but you knew he was spiraling on the inside. “Sorry,” He mumbled. You threw the covers off of the both of you, grabbing his hand. “Cmere, let me take care of you,” You said, delivering a small smile. Who was Sam to deny that?

He followed after you, the cool hotel AC making him shiver. You turned on the shower, tossing your oversized shirt over your head. Sam was mesmerized as he watched you undress, shrugging your panties down your thighs before discarding them on the floor. He could feel his cheeks turning a tint of pink. Somehow the sight of you doing the most mundane things always made him giddy inside. You stepped into the shower, soaking in the warmth as Sam undressed himself. He followed in behind you, his hands finding your waist with ease. You turned around to face him, smiling at the sight of his eagerness to kiss you. It was always like this with you, so relaxed and happy. Temporarily all of Sam’s stress was subsided, his full attention on you. His lips met yours with a passion, your lips eager to keep up with his.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, the warm water sliding down the two of you as you entangled in one another. You didn’t know if you could ever get enough of this. Sam snaked his hand down to your folds, opening his eyes to admire you. “Open your legs for me,” He mumbled lowly. The submission in your eyes sparked, your thighs spreading apart at his very word. He rubbed slow circles around your clit, bringing his lips back to yours. Playfully he nibbled at your lower lip, chuckling as you whimpered, Your core was throbbing with desire, Sam knowing all of your sweet spots without even trying. Your noises became louder and less controlled, causing you to pull away from his lips. “Cmon baby, be loud for me. I know you want to,” He encouraged. Your eyes screwed shut, your forehead leaning against his and you bucked your hips against his hand desperately. Sam took the hint, dipping two fingers into your eager cunt. You moaned his name, allowing the blonde to push you against the tiled wall for support.

He curled his fingers inside of you, your gummy walls clinging to him desperately. He tilted your head to the side, nibbling at your ear lobe. “There we go, such a good girl for me,” Sam praised, his breath hot against your ear. You grabbed his wrist as he mercilessly finger fucked you, abusing your g spot as he pleased. “Aweee what’s wrong? Can’t handle it?” Sam asked teasingly, water droplets falling in his face from his soaking wet hair. You loved when he did this. You loved when he teased and mocked you, your walls telling you everything he needed to know. “If you can’t handle my fingers, how are you gonna handle my cock?” He asked, licking his lips. He watched your nipples harden, looking down to watch you grind on his hand. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the delicious euphoria you craved coming closer and closer. “Sammy it feels so good,” You whined. Sam used his spare hand to grab your chin, causing your soft eyes to flutter open.

“Look at me baby. Look at me as you cum for me,” He ordered. Your lips were parted, the blonde taking the opportunity to slide his thumb into your mouth. You began to suck on it, the action causing Sam’s cock to grow hard. You cursed as you released on his fingers, your walls spasming and thoughts incoherent as you let go. Your vision went white, your heart pounding as Sam slipped out his fingers. He brought his lips back to yours, your lips meeting his in a dazed state. “I’m sorry you’re just so beautiful, I could kiss you for the rest of time,” He confessed. You felt heat rash across your cheeks, the warm water not helping. “Sammy…” You say, your voice trailing off. Sam brushed your hair over your shoulder, swallowing. “I’m serious. You make everything feel so easy, I mean, fuck, I love you,” Sam rambled. You gave him a toothy grin, kissing him deeply. “I love you too,” You panted, briefly pulling away from him. His eyes met yours curiously.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you please fuck me now?”

You giggled at the blunt question, causing Sam to chuckle. “Oh does my little whore wanna be fucked now? I see,” He mused. In a swift motion he picked you up by your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He rubbed his shaft up and down your slick, watching you whimper as his tip brushed against your clit. It was then Sam pushed inside of your entrance, your head tilting back as he bottomed out inside of you. You both took a moment, your walls adjusting to his girth while he focused on not cumming right then and there. You were perfect in every way. You and your cunt. You always milked him so perfectly, so much so it took Sam lots of training to not cum quick. You were blissfully unaware of this, that being Sam’s only secret. “Feel good?” He asked. You melted under his touch, his hips beginning to move. You groaned in agreement, his large hands grabbing your waist.

He firmly held you into place, picking up the pace and fucking you into the wall. His thrust were slow and hard, the blonde in front of you wanting you to feel every inch of him during every second. Sam bit his bottom lip, both of you watching your cunt eagerly swallow his cock. “Fuck, Sammy,” You whined, gripping onto his shoulders for support. The blonde began to fuck you faster, determined to make your body tremble beneath his. The shower water was beginning to run cold, neither of you seeming to notice as Sam fucked you. “Thats it, you can take it,” He grunted. He brought himself closer to you, nuzzling into your neck. The only thing louder than his groans were your unholy moans of his name, curses, and incoherent babbles. “There we go. Taking me so well,” Sam panted. He continued to snap his hips into yours, your breast bouncing with every thrust.

Sam could feel your walls milking him, an indication you were getting close to your final orgasm. Sam knew your body better than you did, knowing exactly where your sweet spot was deep in your cunt. “You wanna cum for me? Hmm? Wanna be my good little whore and cum for me?” Sam asked, knowing the teasing would only provoke you further. You whined as you met his icy blue eyes, nodding profusely. “I wanna cum, please let me cum, oh- oh fuck!” You cried, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came on Sam’s cock. The blonde adored the feeling of your gummy walls clinging to him, his hips twitching as he came deep inside of you. You both were cold, panting messes, Sam reluctant to set you down. He knew that your legs tended to give out on you after cumming. “Let me get you cleaned up,” He murmured. He held your waist firmly, guiding you to stand on your own. You leaned against his chest, the blonde not failing to notice the goosebumps that were spreading across your skin from the cold shower.

You looked up at him, your eyes big as you admired your lover.

“I think it’s time for me to return the favor,” You said, lowering yourself onto your knees.

[bamfkeeper]

You make Kurt so incredibly nervous...he wants to ask you out so badly.

Kurt asking you to go on a date or to be his partner would be so precious and I cannot be convinced otherwise. Side note, Krakoa Kurt is one of my favs ever <3

Warnings: None, gender neutral reader, unedited

WC: 1.5k

Kurt was so nervous.

Ever since your arrival to Krakoa, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you. He so desperately wanted to talk to you, but he couldn't come up with anything to say. His nerves made his tail twitch and thrash behind him while he fiddled with his fingers. He wondered if maybe you'd be the first to talk to him, then he could maybe start talking more at ease.

He did try his best...a group of mutants including himself and you were walking through one of the parks in New York, part of some mission to find a lost mutant. You had been so focused, your eyes scanning the park for said mutant when Kurt got the idea to bring you a sweet treat. He remembered you mentioning your favorite flavor of ice cream and there was a cart conveniently located down the sidewalk.

He walked over and eagerly scanned the cart to see if the flavor you liked was there, and sure enough, it was. He asked for a serving of it and as he waited, he felt someone from behind him step on his tail. He jerked up, making a loud noise and in his jerky movements, he ended up tripping over his own feet and falling right into the cart. Ice cream went everywhere.

Your attention was drawn after he cried out in surprise, and you saw him fall back into the ice cream cart, sinking down in the soft serve and one of the buckets comedically fell on his head. Your eyes widened and you went over to him, "Kurt! Oh my god...are you okay?" you asked, pulling the bucket off his head as more ice cream fell over him.

He shook from the chill and he looked up at you, his eyes wide and his face burned with embarrassment. "J-Ja! I am alright! I did that on purpose to make the children laugh!" he insisted, standing up, then slipping and falling over again. You caught his arm and prevented him from falling all the way on his ass, and he managed to get his feet under him.

"D-Danke..." he muttered, feeling a little shy and completely humiliated that you saw him so clumsy. "Ach...I should clean up..." he whispered back softly and he disappeared in a cloud of smoke before you could say anything else.

After that, he felt too embarrassed to show his face for a few days. He just couldn't believe you saw him fall into ice cream like that. He groaned in bed, a pillow over his face as he let out a string of German frustration. He tossed the pillow to the side and huffed, sitting up. He needed to do something better, something that would make you forget about his clumsiness.

Flowers were his first instinct, but was that too cliché? Did you even like flowers? Would you think that's a sweet gesture? Or were you more into sweets? He didn't want to think about sweets after the ice cream incident...

Maybe something else. A more thoughtful gesture. Dinner? Classic, but was it too boring? Was he just overthinking this??

Another whine escaped his lips, you turned him into putty. He felt his mind was swarming with thoughts and he had no clue what to do. How could he approach you and just...say hello? No, he couldn't do that. How would he even form the words?

This wasn't just butterflies in his belly, he felt like he had a swarm of them, a migration trapped in his stomach and kept twisting around like a tornado. He felt his hands shake and his tail wouldn't stop twitching.

He watched you interact with other mutants from across the room, pouting to himself that it wasn't him you were talking to. He had no one to blame but himself, he wasn't brave enough to approach you just yet. He had no right to feel jealous...he hadn't even said a single word-

"Kurt?" your voice filled his ears suddenly, snapping him from his envious thoughts. His eyes darted at you and he stiffened, you were right in front of him. Your smile was so sweet, it didn't seem like you were even thinking about what happened the last time you saw him.

"Ah...l-liebling." he stuttered out, sitting up and fixing his posture. His tail wrapped around his ankle and he stared at you for far too long.

"Uh, Kurt?" you repeated slowly, giving him an odd look before you smiled again. "Did all that ice cream freeze your brain?" You teased lightly, watching him shift in a flustered manner. "I'm kidding, it was funny, but I'm glad you're alright," you reassured, not wanting him to feel bad about it. If it were you, you'd sure as hell feel embarrassed too.

He nodded slowly, giving a nervous smile. "Ah, danke...I admit that was not my most graceful moment..." he trailed off and cleared his throat. Kurt tried to avoid looking at you, he couldn't keep his eyes on you for more than a second without feeling like he was being shocked all over. You were absolutely breathtaking to him, you were so kind...even when he was a fool.

You saw him shift and he seemed uncomfortable, so you touched his arm lightly. "Are you okay? You've been acting a little funny since the other day." At your touch, Kurt almost whined and he pulled back enough to disappear again, teleporting away as his nerves skyrocketed.

"Ach, verdammt!" he whined to himself and held his face in his hands, "I cannot keep doing this..." he mumbled into his palms, feeling like such an idiot for making a fool of himself a second time. You had such power over him and you had no idea.

This time, he'd do everything right. He stood off to the side, watching you walk your normal routine, he held a bundle of wildflowers tightly in his tail. He didn't know what flower you liked, the fool he was, he was too nervous to ask or spy on you to see if it ever came up in conversation. But the flowers that grew in Krakoa were lovely, he figured you'd like them?

When you got close he took a deep breath. 'No more foolishness,' Kurt thought to himself, feeling more confident and determined. He teleported down to you, luckily he didn't startle you, he almost expected it with the dumb luck he's had lately. "Guten Morgen, liebling." Kurt greeted in the calmest voice he could muster. You were stopped in your tracks and you smiled back at him.

"Good morning, Kurt. What brings you here?" You asked casually, your head tilted slightly with interest. You obviously noticed him lingering around where you were, you just didn't know why he was.

Kurt shifted and he stood back up fully, his tail curling around and he took the flowers in his hand. They were bundled together loosely with ribbon, and he handed them to you quickly, "Wouldyougooutwithme?" he asked faster than you could understand, swallowing as his face heated up. His arms shook as he kept them extended with the flower bundle in hand.

You blinked, you had only heard a jumble of words, not really a full sentence. "Er...what was that?" you asked, looking at the flowers in his hands. "Those are so pretty," you commented and took them from him, momentarily distracted from his nervous question. He watched with relief as you appeared to like the flowers, bringing the colorful bundle up and smelling them.

"Oh, I asked..." Kurt took a deep breath, this was his one chance to do it right. He didn't want to mess up again, and with a trembling voice he asked again. "If you would go out with me...like...a date? W-We can do whatever you want! Dinner, walk, dessert..." he muttered that last part, "But whatever you want to do! I just...I like you. A lot."

With his admission, it was your turn to blush. You gave him a little grin, and you lowered the flowers, "Oh, Kurt...yes, yes of course I would. I like you too," you admitted, your voice a little softer as you stepped closer.

"A lot." you added, pecking his cheek. "And I am totally okay with no dessert if you need to recover from the ice cream." A soft chuckle left your lips with your words, and his cheeks darkened, a bashful smile spread on his face and he scratched the back of his neck.

"Ah...too kind liebling..." His tail swished behind him, shyly moving and wrapping loosely around your calf. "So...how about dinner?" Kurt inquired, "I can make you a delicious meal from my homeland, I promise it's worth trying."

The thought of tasting food from where he came from was intriguing and special, you thought that sounded perfect. A way to spend time with him and know him better. You looked up at him, his adorable face still tinted with a light violet hue from his nerves.

"I'd like that."

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Way of X #1 (2021); Way of X #4 (2021); Way of X #1 (2021)

[puck-luck]

explodin' (like a golf ball) | quinn hughes

warnings: fem!masturbation, fem!receiving oral, a sliver of dom!quinn pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes request: @captainlexaproluvr "quinn catching his gf getting off while watching one of his interviews (then perhaps him going down on her but forcing her to keep watching the video).... yeah" wc: 1470

It’s the black button-up, black dress pants, and pristine white sneakers that do it for you, really. Or maybe it’s Quinn’s perfect new haircut and his big, genuine smile, which he so rarely shows in interviews, that are the minor catalysts in your current predicament. It could be his focus, how quiet he is as he lines up his shot and prepares to swing, to bury that ball as far down the range as he can. 

You realize suddenly that you’re biting your lip hard enough to leave a mark.

You’ve got the video memorized at this point, the way he murmurs out an “Alright” before he swings at the ball, how he freezes in his stance and does a double take when the ball explodes, how he looks around to make sure everyone just saw what he did. 

You find yourself particularly endeared by how excited your sweet boyfriend is, excited to the point that he can barely string together a sentence before starting a new one. He calms down after a moment, his voice returning to its normal, controlled tone as he marvels over the moment to the main interviewer. 

Still, you watch over and over again to see your boyfriend light up like a Christmas display. It’s so rare that you see him act that way in front of the cameras, still a little shy despite his star-status. He should be used to the media by now, years into his career, but he still struggles with coming out of his shell. He overthinks it. But, sometimes, he gets caught off guard and the world gets to see the real him.

It is one of the most attractive interviews you’ve ever seen of Quinn. 

You remember him coming home the day of this shoot, beaming and bragging about how strong he was. You remember him picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder and taking you to the bedroom, so giddy and on a high from his great feat that he needed to get his cock in you and make you feel good. 

And the memories of that make you slip your hand into your shorts, into your panties, and pet over your folds. You’re wet already, just from the thought of Quinn pushing his thick cock into you, hovering over you and watching your face as he causes you to contort and moan recklessly from the pleasure. You jolt as your finger comes in contact with your clit, the bundle of nerves receptive and aching for a repeat. 

The video is still playing, on a low volume but next to your ear regardless, and you can hear Quinn speaking over and over. It’s a recording, but it’s like he’s there, breathing meaningless words into your ear and praising you. 

On a loop, your heart jumps with his repeated “I have… like, come on” because he’s just so precious and such a sweet boy and you want him to be that happy all the time. You want him to be so elated that he’s speechless, that he’s smiling wider than he ever has in front of a camera.

“What’s this?”

Your eyes flash open, finding Quinn in the doorway. His eyes are scanning your body, devoid of emotion and dark. Your fingers still over your clit at the look, then you draw your hand out of your shorts. You rest your hand on your stomach, your shirt riding up so that Quinn can see the soft skin of your belly and love handles. 

“Touching what’s mine?” Quinn asks, his voice low and scratchy. “I was just down the hall, baby, you could’ve called for me.”

He approaches the bed, and suddenly, you remember that his voice is ringing out of your phone speakers on a loop. You go to grab your phone and silence it before he reaches the device first, but you’re too late. He scoops up your phone, planning to just turn it over and place it on the bedside table, but he’s stopped in his tracks when he comes face to face with himself on your screen. 

He watches the video twice, only looking up at you briefly between plays, a smile growing on his face.

“But you already had me here, I see,” Quinn teases. “Have I spoiled you that much, pretty girl? You can’t get yourself off without me talking in your ear?”

“Don’t be mean,” you plead, reaching for him.

Quinn shies away from your touch, opting instead to turn up the volume on your phone and place it, face down, across the room. He returns to your side, chuckling as you stare up at him from your position, then Quinn kneels at the edge of the bed. Your eyes follow him, taking in each of his movements.

Quinn reaches up and dips his fingers into your waistband, gently pulling your shorts and panties down. He reveals your wet pussy, humming in approval as he spreads your legs to get a good look. He pulls you closer, strong hands dragging you by your ankles until your fluttering entrance is a mere breath from Quinn’s mouth. 

“Now you get the best of both worlds,” Quinn mumbles, interrupting himself to plant a kiss on your clit. “I get to take care of you down here, and I can still talk to you from all the way over there.” He nods back at the phone, still repeating the same audio. “I’ve legit never seen anyone break a golf ball before.”

He dives in, tongue first like he’s trying to catch a melted drop from a popsicle before it drips and stains his pants. His hands hold your hips down, keep you from moving underneath him, squirming away from the contact. He groans into your slick, like he’s never tasted anything so lovely before. 

Your hands find his hair, neck craning to catch a glimpse of his focused glare through his eyelashes. He’s staring at you, watching you fall apart under his tongue, and he’s barely done anything at all. 

Quinn eats you out like he always does, like a loyal follower getting a chance to worship his goddess. He stares at you like you’re a masterpiece, painted by the greatest artist in the entire universe, their fame and talent surpassing the boundaries of space and time. You are their creation and Quinn is beyond blessed to have you, to own you.

Because you are his, after all. You’re scrambling beneath him, breathing heavily and whining and cussing and sweating, arching your back and sticking your fingers in his hair, pulling for some reprieve. Quinn will not let up. He cannot bear to part with your pussy, he needs it like air. 

And it needs him– clenching down on his tongue and bumping against his appealing nose with each repeated “Come on” and “That’s a win.”

You’re moaning, helpless to the noises that are falling from your lips. 

Quinn’s eyes are dry, almost looking like he couldn’t care less about the noises he’s pulling from you, the shaking in your legs that he causes with each swipe of his tongue. He looks disinterested, like this is just another thing on his agenda. You’d believe that he considers this a chore just by the looks of his eyes, if not for the fervor with which he licks you out.

It’s the perfect mixture– the plain and confident and quiet Quinn Hughes shown in his eyes, and the brazen, goofy, loving Quinn Hughes in his actions.

You tip over the edge as if leaping from an airplane, falling freely to the ground. The sensations overtake you like wind whipping at your hair throughout the fall. You sigh, grinding against Quinn’s face slowly, just riding out the waves. You drag your lips over the expanse of his lower face, his mouth and nose nudging you softly, reminding you that they’re there. Quinn presses a few kisses to your entrance, clit, and inner thighs before crawling up your body and hovering over your face. He smiles, leaning down to pepper kisses all along your features, making you giggle and squirm away.

“I didn’t know you liked me so much,” Quinn teases, nibbling your lips. “We’ll have to look into cloning. Then you’ll really have two of me.”

“Such a dork,” you reply, caressing his cheek and capturing his lips. He’s strong and solid above you.

“Let's just drill that thing down at like 320?”

You pull away. “Can you go turn that off?” You whisper. “It’s starting to annoy me now.”

Quinn chuckles. He presses his forehead to yours for a brief moment, just long enough for you two to take a breath together. He shifts to the side and leaves you on the bed, tired of his own voice as well. They’ll have to find a new video for next time.

note: i thought the title was funny! but it's probably just lame boooooooooo

ok loving you guys, make sure you sent me more requests for NOT jack or trevor. i'm bored of those requests. i've got plenty. and trevor is like constantly on my mind. so shush. i will get to him.

[swordsandholly]

Across the Way

Chapter 4: New and Old Problems Alike

Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Fat!Reader

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

MDNI | cw: fainting, some medical inaccuracies

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

You haven’t texted them, even three days later. That little sticky note haunts the surface of your kitchen counter. It taunts you - tells you that you should text them and at least give them your number. That you’re being a terrible neighbor. They might need you too, after all. Even though you can’t figure out why they might for the life of you. On the other hand, you can’t help but feel wary about it. Men don’t take an interest in you - people in general rarely take interest. It’s hard not to feel suspicious, as pure as you’re sure their intentions probably are.

More so than any of that, you don’t know what to say. If it had been day one you could have just put your name, but now you feel like you need to explain. Or at least be funny or something. Tossing and turning on your designated rest day about what the hell you should do.

You’re overthinking it. You know that. You can’t stop, either.

They just seem so cool - so put together. So unlike you. You want to impress them. You don’t want to ruin the first possibility of friends in this new life you’re building for yourself.

Eventually you work up the courage to send off an initial text to each of them. Just to give them your name to save if they so choose - plus an extra thank you to Simon for giving you their numbers in the first place. Something simple and borderline cold. Too cold, maybe? Maybe you sound irritated. You hope not. You just want them to like you. Friends in new places are hard and to have someone around you who gets how it feels to need accommodations would just feel so… lovely. Your phone may or may not go flying onto your bed while you bury your face in your hands out of sheer nervousness.

You don’t expect it to chime about a minute later. Right as you’re staring to calm down, of course. It sends your heart violently pounding all over again.

J >> Bonnie lass!

J >> So glad u texted!!

>> Sorry it took so long lol

Oh, you could just slap yourself. You don’t have anything better than that? At all? Christ.

J >> Nah Nah

J >> No worries

J >> Actually I was wondering if u would mind if I came by tomorrow

J >> Just to chat

J >> need an excuse to get out of the house

“How the hell does he type that fast?” You scoff to yourself.

>> Yeah, come by anytime.

>> totally

>> yea sounds cool

>> rad, man

A message from Simon pops up mid your internal battle with how to respond, replying with a simple thumbs up. Very in character, you think. He knows how to be nonchalant. What would Simon say? Something casual, maybe a little formal.

>> If you like. You’re always welcome.

Okay maybe that was too much like Simon. You sigh heavily m before adding,

>> I’m trying out a new blueberry loaf

>> If you want to test for me :)

Better. That’s a little better. With another heavy sigh you decide to drop your phone into your nightstand for the rest of the day. Your heart really cannot handle this much emotional pressure.

~~~

You sort of end up just forgetting about the texts. With your phone out of sight and out of mind upstairs in your apartment it almost catches you off guard when Johnny comes striding through the door just before close. He’s dressed more casually than the last couple of times you saw him - having broken out the summer shorts and a graphic tee for some band you don’t recognize. It suits him, though.

“Hey, bon.” He grins.

“Hey.” You smile back, finishing with putting up your stocking baskets before dusting off your hands and turning around. “Simon closing up?”

“Aye.”

You hum. “Come on back, I’ll get you a slice of that loaf I mentioned.”

Johnny follows you quietly. Uncharacteristically quietly. That’s okay - you don’t have a problem with hanging out in silence. It doesn’t feel tense, surprisingly enough. He leaves Riley out front again. Should you get her a dog bed? Maybe if he comes by consistently. That would be nice. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“It’s sort of a pound cake but fluffier. I might make an icing for it but I don’t know if that would be too sweet…” You trail off, focusing on plating up the piece. You’re not sure what compels you to try and make it pretty for him. Probably something you could blame on your grandmother. She did have an obsession with presentation.

Johnny hums loudly after taking a bite, talking around the mouthful. “Y’should totally make an icing.” He swallows roughly. “Si would go crazy fer this.”

“Oh?” You smile. “I’ll send some home with you.”

There’s a lapse of silence while Johnny chews on his slice of bread and you pack up some in a paper bag for him to take home. The only sounds in the room comprised of your cutting and folding and the hum of the cooling oven.

“You’re being weirdly quiet.” You blurt, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. “I, uh, I mean that isn’t a bad thing! I don’t mind… I just, uh, was… sorry, never mind…”

“Well I did come wit’ a bit of an ulterior motive…” Johnny admits, glancing off to the side shyly. It’s a show, you think. Johnny doesn’t seem the type of man to have felt shy a day in his life.

You tilt your head. “Oh?”

He dusts off his hands and grins. “Let us take ye out! In celebration of yer first full month.”

Has it been a month already? “Oh - no, no you don’t have to-“

“C’mon! It’s a big accomplishment.” His smile is so bright that you almost believe his idea that you’ve done something great.

“…alright.” You give a tentative smile. It’s hard to believe they like you enough to want to hang out casually in the evening. Hard to imagine anyone liking you that much but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“There’s a pub down the street - the one on the corner. Want tae meet us there around six?” Johnny gives you that lovely smile. How could you ever say no to a smile like that?

“Okay.”

You spend far too long changing in and out of clothes and fussing with your hair. Up-do’s and buns and braids. A tank top then a sweater then a t-shirt. There’s no reason to feel this stressed over it. It’s not a date or anything. Besides, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Either way you look like a frumpy dumpling. Eventually you land on jeans and one of your designated ‘going out tops.’ At least it’s a good excuse to wear something other than work clothes or loungewear.

Excitement and anxiety thrum under your skin like electricity as you make your way down the street. You feel painfully nauseous - stopping once or twice just to make sure you aren’t about to throw up for real.

The pub is surprisingly quiet when you enter. Obviously somewhere only real locals hang out - there’s no theme or really any decor in general. Just a bar, some booths and a couple pool tables. You scan the floor a few times, not seeing either Johnny or Simon (not that they would be hard to miss). Eventually you just grab a soda from the bar and slide into one of the booths closer to the back. A quiet spot facing the door where you can easily watch for them.

As time ticks on you begin to grow increasingly nervous. Did you get the time wrong? No, no you triple checked. You even wrote it down in your planner. Your leg begins to bounce furiously, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Did they decide to ditch? You wouldn’t really blame them. They’re way out of your league when it comes to friends. Maybe Johnny had an emergency? Should you call Simon? If he had an emergency it would make sense that they would forget to notice you. What if something really bad happened? What if-

The front door opens and Simon’s wide frame strides through, holding the door for Johnny and Riley to come in behind him. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, willing your leg to stop bouncing with a pinch to your thigh. Why are you always so damn dramatic?

Johnny lights up with an ear to ear grin when he spots you, bee-lining for the booth while Simon casually walks up to the bar. It’s almost comedic, the way he dwarfs the counter. Johnny leans on the side of the booth, waiting for Simon, you think.

“Glad ye could come out.” He looks you over, eyes flicking from your plain top to the very practical, not at all stylish up do that you landed on for the evening.

You do your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Me too…”

Simon comes back with two beers in hand and slides them onto the table. He scoots into the inner booth to give Johnny the outer edge. Riley happily sits beside his leg and practically grins at you in a near mirror image of Johnny’s. You’d never do it while she’s on the job, of course, but part of you wants to give her a pat on the head and coo at her for being so polite.

Johnny gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry we were a bit late-”

“Johnny redid his hair about five times.” Simon butts in, not reacting at all to Johnny’s sputtering protest. He glances at your half-drunk soda. “Want me t’ grab you a beer?”

“Oh, no, I’ll just stick to coke.”

They blink at you. Simon cocks his head slightly. “You sure?”

You chew your lip. “Uh, alcohol tends to aggravate my symptoms is all...”

“Then why’d ye agree to drinks? We coulda gone somewhere else.” Johnny frowns.

You shrug. “I don’t mind. I… maybe this is over sharing but I’d rather go out and be kind of normal than just… not ever. Y’know?”

His expression softens. For having such icy blue eyes they are so, so warm. “I get it.”

“How’d you two meet anyway?” You blurt, taking a left turn to get the conversation off of you. It’s the first question that comes to mind. Maybe it’s rude - maybe you’re prying too much already.

“Military.” Simon grunts. “SAS.”

“Si retired wit’ me after I was discharged.” Johnny points to his scar the same way he did when you first met. “Russians scrambled my egg a bit.”

“Couldn’t do the time apart…” Simon murmurs, eyes locked on Johnny’s face. It’s vulnerable. More than he’s used to - you can see it in the way he tenses after saying it.

Something passes between them that a deep, wounded part of you desperately wishes to understand.

You can’t help but start giggling to yourself. They both give you an incredulous look. “Sorry, sorry - it’s just, that’s like… totally a romance book premise. It’s sweet. Really.”

“Och, aye. Wouldn’t know it t’ look at him but Si’s a real romantic.” Johnny bats his eyes at the other man, who just rolls his in response. The corner of his scarred mouth quirks up subtly.

“SAS…” You repeat, staring at your drink. “That’s like Navy Seal shit, right?”

“We worked with them a few times, yes.” Simon nods. There’s an air of ‘do not ask anything more specific’ in his voice.

“Huh.” You take that for what it is and sit back, squinting at them. “You don’t look it, honestly.”

Johnny laughs. “Tha’s just cause ye havennae seen Simon with his gear on. The Ghost.” He wiggles his fingers along as he makes a stupid, spooky sound effect. “I domesticated him.”

Simon scoffs but doesn’t deny it, just takes a quiet sip of his beer.

“Riley’s a vet, too.” Johnny pats her head. “Got too skittish around loud noises but she transitioned into a service dog nicely.”

“Now she’s just spoiled.” Simon rolls his eyes in faux annoyance. You get the strong feeling that he’s the one doing the spoiling.

You find yourself relaxing as the night goes on. Slouching in your seat rather than sitting ramrod straight and nervously twiddling your thumbs. They never press you to drink, never insist that you’ll be fine with just one. They take your statement as fact and it isn’t brought up again. That shouldn’t be as significant as it is, now that you think about it.

Johnny’s words begin to slur a little bit on his fourth, no maybe fifth, beer. You aren’t sure. It’s very cute, the little blush that forms across his cheeks. Simon loosens up, too. He slings an arm around the back of the booth and Johnny readily tucks himself into the open spot. You find yourself wondering about their military career again. You can’t picture either of them committing violence - especially Simon. Sure, he’s big and gruff but he looks at Johnny so, so softly.

Simon is the one to call it a night - though you have a feeling its because you nodded off a couple times. Not out of boredom, you try really, really hard to pay attention to Johnny rambling about the chemistry of different explosives. He makes it interesting, somehow. Really it’s just that you’ve been awake for… holy shit almost twenty hours!

“D’you need a ride?” Simon asks as you exit the pub, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know how to interpret the look he’s giving you. It’s intense, but not annoyed or displeased. He has such a weird knack for unreadable but distinct expressions. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to get good at deciphering them.

You jump when Johnny takes both your hands in, kissing the backs of them with a sloppy, drunk smile. “Thank ye fer comin’ out. “

Somehow your face feels hotter than a damn oven. You tuck your hands to your chest, kicking shyly at the sidewalk. “Th-thanks for the invite. We, uh, we could do it again sometime?”

You glance up hopefully, praying that you didn’t misread the situation. You’ve done that before - thought people liked you more than they did. Johnny just grins wider somehow and nods excitedly.

You watch them walk off in the other direction, hand in hand. Johnny giggles about something loudly and you can see Simon’s shoulders shake with a far more silent laugh. All the way until they disappear down the street.

The sheer amount that the image hurts your heart makes you feel evil.

~~~

The pub changed something. What, you don’t know. Either way, you fall into an easy pattern with Johnny and Simon over the next couple weeks. Exchanges of food, leftovers or morsels about to turn, little visits back and forth between your shops. Johnny continues to stop by after close, just hanging around with you while Simon closes up shop.

You can’t deny how much you look forward to hearing that door chime followed by a too-loud greeting from Johnny. How your heart flips in your chest when those bright blue eyes peek around the corner into the back room or light up while trying a new recipes you’ve been testing. You’re still a bit awkward - unsure how to react when he throws an arm around your shoulders or listens oh so intently while you talk about nothing important.

Things can’t ever be all sunshine and rainbows, though. Not for you. A new problem has arisen as summer truly sets in - the comfortable spring breezes giving way to nothing but bright, unfiltered sun. One you didn’t expect to impact you this much living this far north.

Heat.

It’s hard to breathe in the back room while you’re baking. Hard to keep your water and salt intake high enough to compensate for how fast you lose them. You might as well get a permanent saline drip attached to you at this point. You definitely didn’t google if that was physically possible. Your budget for liquid IVs and other supplements nearly doubles. Standing over the massive oven in the back room has your head swimming a few times. You end up resting longer on your weekends, unable to keep up like you could in cooler weather.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, the summer here isn’t like back home. It will pass quicker. Plus, you at least have methods of dealing with it now other than crossing your fingers and praying.

“Bonnie!” Johnny suddenly appears in your doorway - that charming smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Ye made it up Main Street yet?”

“No?” You tilt your head and try to ignore the way your vision spots momentarily at the motion. “Why?”

“Ye dinnae hear about the summer festival?” He leans on your counter. You shake your head. “It’s a yearly thing. Not that big a deal but they have some fun games an’ it’s nice tae see everyone out an’ about. Si an’ I are about tae head down. Come wit’?”

You hesitate. The exhaustion in your body tugs at your spine. Your limbs feel heavy. This morning really got to you - out of towners who must have come for the festival flooded your shop the moment it opened on top of your Saturday regulars. Not that you’re complaining, really. It’s easily your best day so far. You want to go with them, though, despite the ache in your back and the sting in your joints. It sounds so fun and it’s never a bad idea to take part in your new community’s festivities.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You smile. You can tough it out for an hour, then come back home. Yeah, just an hour. You’ll be fine.

You hadn’t noticed Simon leaned up at the entrance to your shop. Your eyes lock on his arms. This is the first time you’ve actually seen him in short sleeves. You can’t help but stare at his half-sleeve tattoo - all skulls and bombs and other military motifs. Faded and sun worn. Yeah, if you’d seen that sooner you definitely would have picked up on the whole military thing. You bite your lip to keep from snickering about it.

You can hear the music drifting from the speakers down the street. A few kids run by with balloons and cheap carnival prizes. It almost reminds you of the Spring Fling back home, just missing the extreme American flag theming across every booth and vendor front. Now that you’re looking around, you can actually see several booths that have been sponsored by various businesses in the area. Even the post office has a snow cone stand. The deeper you get into the event, the more flamboyant the decor becomes. Multicolored streamers and pennet flags connect stands, creating an almost canopy effect.

Simon stops rather abruptly at a booth, waiting behind a few teenagers tossing rings onto bottles. You stop with Johnny about two feet away. What’s he thinking? Simon doesn’t seem like the type who would be too entertained by basic carnival games. Even so, he steps forward and passes over a couple bills to the vendor as soon as the teenagers leave.

“Si’s really good at these. Watch.” Johnny grins beside you.

“Aren’t they rigged?” You raise an eyebrow.

Johnny doesn’t answer, eyes locked on his husband as he lines up one of the rings. You have to lean slightly to see around the breadth of the man - the multicolor rings almost cartoonishly small in his hands. Cute. Your eyes get impossibly wide with each toss, every single one landing comfortably on the bottle necks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if this isn’t one of the most commonly rigged carnival games.

“Holy shit…” You mutter, still staring.

“Aye, tha’s a SAS sniper for ye.” Johnny laughs. “Glad tae see it still comes in handy.”

Simon huffs out a quiet laugh at that. Almost more of a sigh if it weren’t for the shaking of his shoulders. You love it - their little dynamic. The bond between them that’s so strong it’s almost visible.

“‘ere.” Simon turns to you suddenly, holding out a cheap little carnival prize. You can’t even begin to decipher what it’s supposed to be - some sort of furry puff ball with big, embroidered anime eyes and two felt antennae sticking up out of it’s purple head… body… thing…

Your face heats. “F-, uh, me?”

He shrugs. “Suits you. Riley will just chew it up if we take it home.”

“Aye. She’s so good with everythin’ but cheap plushies.” Johnny snickers.

You glance down at the dog in question - her dark eyes glued to the toy in Simon’s hand. Her tail thumps against the ground where she sists dutifully, but you can see the desire to snatch the thing away in her twitchy ears and pleading eyes. You snort, taking the stupid thing and tucking it under your arm with the prayer that they don’t notice the heat now spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

“Thanks…” you murmur, already mentally deciding where to add it to the mess of stuffies covering your bed already.

Somehow you end up walking between them down the street - Simon on your left and Johnny on your right with Riley in tow. You stop at a few other games here and there. All pretty basic. Johnny absolutely kills at the dunk booth.

Simon tires his hardest to help you with your terrible aim, “Just visualize it. Y’have t’ account for the arc.”

You get to the point of sticking your tongue out in concentration. Even so you only manage to knock down a couple of the wooden ducks at the ‘Dunk-A-Duck’ stand. You do, however, win one of those rock candy sticks at the guessing booth. You just hand it off to Johnny. It’s probably not best to load up on sugar in your current state.

Johnny excitedly points to different buildings giving you a rundown of the history of his hometown as you walk. Simon seems to barely be listening. He’s probably heard this a thousand times. Prattling on about the old town square, the church bell that a bunch of teenagers spray painted one time (Johnny was not involved, how could you accuse him of that?)

You find yourself focusing on your feet - keeping each step even and fast enough to remain on pace with them. One, two, one, two, one, two. The air begins to thicken. Muggy and heavy on your skin. Your breaths become shallow and fast. You can’t catch it, the air seeming to get stuck in your throat rather than reaching your lungs. Spots begin to dance across your vision. You stumble over nothing.

Not now! Come on! You’ve been doing so well!

Riley presses against your leg acting as a counter weight. Your body moves on instinct to grab whatever you can - hands wrapping around something strong and covered with cloth. An arm solid as rebar. Hopefully it’s someone you know. All you can see are colorless shapes.

“Gonna pass out - don’t freak!” You gasp before your legs give out.

It’s not that you go entirely out - it’s rare that you fully black out. It’s more like being stuck. Limp and fuzzy and confused. Almost like sleep paralysis. There’s voices and people moving around you. Someone has picked you up, you think, based on the swaying motion and the passing shapes around you. Maybe that’s just vertigo. A door bell chimes.

You finally begin to really come to when something icy is pressed to your forehead. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds that you were gone, but it takes much longer for the world around you to come back into focus.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, eyes stinging. Even after all these years it’s so damn embarrassing. You blink, the distinct mural that decorates the ceiling of the post office slowly coming into view. Johnny said a big time traveling artist painted it back in the nineties.

“Ye alright?” Johnny murmurs, crouched down beside you. Riley sniffs at your hand, seeming satisfied when you finally move it on your own.

You nod slowly. “Overheated…”

“Give her this.” Someone says. An event medic, you think. The boys must have flagged them down. Fingers press to your pulse point, a light shines in your eyes and you follow it. A quick check of vitals. Johnny shoves a water bottle in your hand as soon as the medic decides you’re fine to move - the contents distinctly murky from some sort of electrolyte pack that’s been shaken into it.

“Up y’get. Slowly does it.” Simon helps you sit up with a hand on your back. It’s so gentle. You don’t miss how he cages in your body the way only someone intimately familiar with caretaking might. Fully ready to catch you if you go limp again.

You sip slow, eyes glued to the ground. You feel so fucking stupid. Can’t even walk down a street without creating some sort of scene. They’re never going to want to hang out with you again, are they? You can’t go out drinking, can’t walk around a festival for longer than a couple hours. You distracted Riley. What if something happened to Johnny while you were having your spell? She might not have alerted correctly because of you. She might have gotten confused and then he could have gotten hurt. He might have-

“Ye really should drink tha’ instead of glarin’ at it.” Johnny pulls you from your thoughts. He’s now sat with his legs crossed beside you. Riley’s head rests in his lap. She seems calm. Content now that the emergency is over and happily lying on a cool floor.

You hum, chugging the last bit of it quickly. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Simon says curtly. “Does this ‘appen often?”

You shrug. “Not as much anymore… usually my medication keeps me stable.”

“Do ye need a doctor?” Johnny tilts his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his tone - in either of their tones. Just calm concern. It probably shouldn’t make you want to cry as much as it does.

You shake your head. “I’ve got liquid IV at home. Just need to sleep it off.”

Hopefully. In reality, a pain flare up is inevitable now. You just won’t know how bad until you’re fully in it.

“Let’s get ye home.” Johnny says, knees popping as he stands.

“I-I’m fine!” You insist, mentally preparing to get yourself up off the floor. “I can get home on my own - I don’t want to ruin your time.”

Johnny levels his gaze onto you, so serious it almost looks angry. It doesn’t match his face. “We’re not leavin’ ye tae get home alone like this.”

You’re caught off guard when an arm slides under your back and another under knees - lifting you like you weigh half of what you do in reality. Like you’re a paperweight instead of a boulder. You blink up at Simon, far too surprised to be embarrassed. At least at first. You splutter out a poor attempt at convincing him to put you down. Excuse and reason after reason and excuse. They roll off him like water off a ducks back. Your face burns as he steps out of the post office with you neatly tucked against his chest - Johnny and Riley in tow.

If you allow yourself to be honest, to give into that weaker part of you (or, at least, the part you consider to be weak) you could possibly admit that this feels nice. Being cared for feels nice. Having your body up against someone else feels nice. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you outside of a polite handshake or accidental bump. You sink into it despite yourself - relaxing against Simon’s chest. They were right, you wouldn’t have made it back. Your head is too fuzzy and there’s that telltale pain in your shoulders radiating up to your neck that signifies an oncoming Bed Day.

It doesn’t take long with Simon’s lengthy strides to get back to your building. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up to that running. Well, you can’t really run much at all so you definitely wouldn’t. A stupid, muddled train of thought that melts into the hazy bog of your current mental state. Even Johnny trails a few feet behind. Neither of them speak, marching in determined silence. You attempt to subtly check their faces for any anger. You’d understand if they were angry. Most people would get angry. You interrupted their day out with your useless drama. All you get is a wide, bright grin from Johnny when your eyes eventually meet his.

Simon puts you down with all the care in the world. As if you’re made of fine china. His hand stays on your upper back - planted firmly between your shoulder blades and ready to catch you if need be. Your vision swims a bit, your joints feel like jelly but you manage to dig your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door.

“Here.” Johnny plops the puff ball back into your hands just as you turn to say goodbye. To say thank you - to apologize profusely.

Your brows raise. You completely forgot about it while swimming around in a sea of embarrassment - he must have picked it up for you. You hug it to your chest with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You shift your weight side to side, psyching yourself up for the crawl up the stairs. Probably literally. You don’t think you could stay upright if you tried to walk them like a regular day, or even with an aid. Like a regular or semi-regular person. Fuck.

Johnny follows your eyes up at the staircase. He must sense some hesitation in you. “Do ye need help up?”

You bite your lip, staring at the ground. Standing in one place seems alright, but the thought of climbing is so daunting, even with the cane you have stationed at the bottom of the steps for that exact purpose. It’s embarrassing. You’re young, you should be able to walk up some damn stairs. It isn’t even that many. It’s barely a full flight. Just one story of stairs for fuck’s sake.

“Hey.” Simon touches your cheek, the action snapping your eyes to his in surprise. “It’s okay. C’mere.”

He picks you up again in the same fashion with barely a grunt, taking his time up the steps so as not to jostle you. How many times has he done this with Johnny? you wonder. That’s the only explanation for how good he is at keeping your equilibrium so even. You wonder if he practiced - if he took caretaking classes. He probably did. Does he keep up at the gym just so he can take care of his husband? Simon might be quiet and a little formal, but he exudes dedication.

“Sorry it’s messy…” You murmur when they reach the top of the steps. Glancing behind you, you see Riley sitting patiently at the bottom. Johnny must have told her to stay. “Haven’t gotten to fully unpack…”

You’ve been spending too much time in bed on the weekends. Fucking lazy.

Johnny just laughs. “Ye shoulda seen the first place Simon an’ I had.”

“Wasn’t that bad.” Simon argues, carefully setting you down on the couch. His hands hold your waist to steady you. They’re so warm… It feels wrong to be disappointed when he lets go.

“We hadnae figured out a system yet.” Johnny huffs, hands on his hips. “We ended up hirin’ a specialized maid service the dishes got so backed up.”

You scoff, laying back against the couch with that stupid carnival prize still in your arms. Like it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. The tears that have been stinging your eyes this entire time continue to threaten to spill - a myriad of blinks and careful breaths the only thing keeping them back.

Johnny sits beside you slowly. You can’t meet his eyes. “Do… do ye want tae tell us what it is? Ye donnae have tae - it’s up tae ye. Just if somethin’ happens again…”

“We’d like to be prepared.” Simon jumps in where Johnny trails off.

You chew your lip, still staring up at the ceiling. It splits and that coppery taste coats your tongue for a moment. “I, uh, it’s called POTS. There’s different types but basically my body can’t regulate blood flow and pressure right…” You shrug. “Like I said my medication usually keeps me mostly okay.”

It’s the pain that really gets to you usually, but you don’t need to start dumping on them about that. There’s no reason to spill your guts about things they can’t fix.

“Thanks fer tellin’ us.” Johnny smiles. You stiffen slightly when he reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear. You tilt your head, still resting on the back of the couch, to meet his eye. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll lock the knob behind us. Call if ye need anythin’.”

“Okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes down and picking at your nails. “Sorry… about all this… I didn’t - I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“Donnae apologize.” He says softly as he stands. “Never apologize. We’re your friends, aye? Friends help friends. Tha’s all there is to it.”

Simon gives you a discerning nod behind him, expression both soft and deeply serious.

Friends? They consider you real life proper friends? Really? You can’t help but beam up at him. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’ve re-read this chapter so many times that it’s total mush in my brain which tells me it’s time to be done with it.

Bonus: I made a Pinterest board for this fic

[divinesangel]

— 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞?

pm me for an affordable, in-depth personal or soulmate reading! ko-fi.com/solreads

— 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

it's very likely for you to meet this person in a place where people are very outgoing, have a lot of passion, and they are always on the go. it could be a bustling city with a touch of a mystique energy, or a place where maybe religion or sacred places are prominent. i'm getting vibes of a vibrant café in a corner where you're able to feel and smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee along with people's conversations and day-to-day life. everyone's on their own reality and each lost in their own world. however, amidst the crowd and these people, you catch a glimpse of someone who stands out, a figure exuding confidence and charm, also with a hint of determination and confidence. this is someone that from the very beginning you will notice that it embodies the energy of someone adventurous, daring, or someone with a fiery passion or energy that ignites curiosity within you. there is going to be an exchange of glances, almost as if it is an instant recognition, like an instant acknowledgement of a connection that transcends words. their vibe or energy is going to be quite enigmatic and there's a level of depth in them that will draw you in. you both will feel this magnetic pull and as you approach each other or by the moment one of you decides to do something, you will soon find yourself engaged in a conversation that flows effortlessly and where you both will feel the gentle butterflies. one of the things that you'll be noticing is how kind and compassionate this person is and how romantic they can be sometimes. it's the type of behaviour that will speak to your soul and make you feel a certain way, a way you haven't felt before. there is a sense of innocence and sincerity in this person that adds a spark of curiosity from them when it comes to you. together, you'll find yourselves immersed in a very lively exchange, sharing stories, dreams, and aspirations. it will be at this moment that you will realize that you've stumbled upon something truly unique and magical.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

you'll meet your soulmate in a place where the sun shines brightly and the sunlight pours in through wide windows, filling several rooms of the street with a warm, inviting glow. it's going to be a place where people go out to enjoy themselves, and during this day, a lot of people are going to be outside enjoying the weather and the warmth that it brings. everyone is going to be soaking up the sunshine and enjoying the simple pleasures of life. when it comes to you, i feel like that as you go about your day, you'll find yourself at a crossroads. this could be a part of your life where you could be facing a decision that weighs heavily on your mind. it could be a choice about your career, your relationships, or your personal goals. it's like you will feel torn between different options, unsure of which path to take, and anxious about the consequences of your decision and wondering if you're on the right path. this turmoil may make you experience sleepless nights, tossing and turning as worries and fears swirl in your mind. the nights seem to amplify your concerns, leaving you feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. and i feel like during this day that you will meet your soulmate, you will make the decision to go out and try to enjoy yourself more, instead of always being at home overthinking things. because despite the uncertainty and anxiety, you'll have the resilience and you'll be brave enough to throw yourself into your work and yourself with a lot of focus on determination. these uncertainties and anxieties might also have to do with past heartaches or disappointments. there's like a lingering fear of getting hurt again or a fear of opening up and being vulnerable. all stemming from the past. you'll be devoting yourself to your pursuits and trying to be more productive, with the aim of not thinking too much about the future. then, when you least expect it, this person will walk into your life. i feel like it's very likely for you to meet this person while they're working somewhere or they're helping someone with something. there's a sense of working on something that i'm picking up, and it's something that you will admire about this person. i feel like at first, you will admire them from afar, and i don't see you taking any steps towards this person, but i feel like there is going to be maybe a friend of yours that will introduce you to them, or perhaps there could be someone around you that knows this person that could introduce you to them.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

you will meet your soulmate in a place where there's a lot of people. it could be a very bustling urban setting where people seek to thrive and they are always busy. it's a very busy environment and i feel like when it comes to the place where you will meet them, it could be at a working event, a conference, or even a lively co-working space. there is a lot of energy filled with people hustling to achieve their goals and a lot of conversations on future plans. there is a legal sense to this, so it could be that this person might be someone in a higher position than you, or someone with a respectable job. in this connection, i feel like there could be a lot of ups and downs because at first the connection might not flow that very well and you could feel like there could be some tension and it's very likely that you won't really know whether this person likes you or not because of their cold behavior or an expressive self. at first, you could feel that there's not really much to do with this person or like maybe nothing else is going to be happening, but that's something that changes quite soon. it sort of feels like an enemies to lovers type of thing. as you get to know each other, you'll discover that they share your values and aspirations, they're very driven, ambitious, and determined to succeed, and you will find yourself in them. i feel like at the time you may not notice this part of you, but once you get to know them more, you'll figure out and discover that you're actually quite ambitious and determined as well. besides that, i feel like you'll find yourself discussing big ideas, making plans for the future, and supporting each other's dreams. you'll be able to navigate the ups and downs of life as a team, finding strength in each other's company, and of course you'll also share laughter, challenges, and moments of quiet understanding as your relationship deepens and evolves. eventually, you'll realize that this person is the one you've been searching for, and it's going to be quite funny for the both of you to look back and analyze how everything went down. from feeling tense around each other and not really knowing what to talk about or do around each other, to being together in a very loving and healthy connection.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 !

hi! it's daphne here.

i'm currently offering personal readings for €5 and soulmate readings for €10 so don't hesitate to send me a private message if you're interested!

thank you for being here!

[venuzasmuse]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐞. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬

— the holidays are meant to be festive, free of heartache and solemnity, but odds are forever not in your favor as you spend the holidays with your best friend alongside her sister, that broke your heart.

[rockstar!ellie au, best friend’s sister!ellie, kinda mean!ellie (for a few parts of the story)]

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warnings: reader is afab, not proofread, mature language, mentions of substance abuse (drugs), ellies a dick in this chapter srry guys, WHOLE LOTTA ANGST. smut & fluff in later chapters. POC FRIENDLY !!

this chapters kinda long because it’s still introducing the reader & ellie’s relationship dynamic so bare with me pls pls pls

upon arriving in texas, a wave of nostalgia washes over you as you peered over the horizons of the buzzing city streets.

the traffic was still— as long as you could remember— terrible. pedestrians raided the roads as if they had enough lives for the people on it and tenfold. you can recount the amount of days you'd be late for school because your brother, simon, took obnoxiously long in the bathroom. you could almost still smell his putrid sauvage cologne from here. the strong scent filling your senses— your head spun nauseatingly so.

you grapple with the map in your hand, flipping it every which way trying to give yourself a sense of reassurance as you and sarah navigated through the intersections. you loved your best friend but you couldn't sugarcoat the fact that her love for detours affected her driving skills poorly.

she'd listen to her gps for the first few hours and eventually get fed up with the alterations that emitted from the older device, completely tossing the given routes out of the window and using her intuition as a sense of direction instead.

"jesus, has texas always been this confusing?" the blonde exasperated, a heavy hand coming down to the steering wheel as a blare emitted from the vehicle.

you shoot her a glare that goes unnoticed and the car jerks as she overpasses the poor old lady in front of her.

"does it hurt you to have any patience?" you groan out. you slump in your seat and throw your head back against the headrest tiredly.

"patience never did anyone any good before." she declares sheepishly, a playful smile spreading across her pretty face.

your head lolls to the side to face the side of her head and you give her a playful eye roll.

"i swear to God, if we ever get caught in a drive by, i'd never let you live it down. even in hell."

she laughs a throaty laugh. sarah grabs your hand giving it a squeeze and shake, her demeanor excited.

"come on! don't be so grim. aren't you excited to be going back home? i mean it's been years." she switches to another lane, eyes trained on the rear view. "my dad is super excited to have you back. he said you're welcome as long as you need to be."

"that's only because we never gave him a choice before." you prompt. the two of you giggle.

"you know what i mean. i'm so hungry— maybe we can hit up mel's diner when we get there. i'd kill for their cheeseburgers right now."

you glance at the gps. "2 1/2 hours left" before y'all were to reach your destination. you groan, pulling your hat down to shield your face away from the blaring sun beaming down on your skin.

you'd be lying if you said that you had gotten any shut eye the night before. too plagued with overthinking, the dead of the night was filled with the sound of tossing and turning as you fought against yourself at an amateur attempt to soothe your own nerves.

trepidation dripped down your soul. you weren't sure how finally seeing ellie again for the first time would enfold. you had a plan to simply just avoid her but you knew you probably weren't going to keep up with that very long.

ellie was persistent and if she had any plan to resolve things, it wouldn't go unnoticed by a long shot. no matter how hard you tried to steer clear of it.

sarah knew about the reason why the two of you broke up. she was sympathetic enough to take your feelings about seeing her sister again after 2 and half dreadful years.

she witnessed first hand the aftermath of what ellie did to you. a brutal 9 nine months of you trying to build yourself high enough on a pedestal to be able to move on completely. she listened to you every step of the way, her ears open and her arms empathetic with every tear shed.

it was even worse when the media coverage began getting ahold of their band. 7 months after you and ellie had stopped talking completely due to your nasty breakup, her band rose to stardom and you could still remember how much dread washed over you to hear the sound of her playing on the radio for the first time.

you avoided her, in every way you could. if that meant no music for months until the hype of her album died down even just a little bit, then so be it.

but the limelight wasn't always as glamorous. you alongside of her family, despite not having heard from her in years, knew about how she'd been living because once the tabloids got a hold of her, the only thing plaguing the media coverage was about ellie.

who she was spotted with, newly sparked dating rumors as she was seen with a different girl nearly every month, and even the downfall of her newly acquired fame.

in pure janis joplin fashion, the height of her success came crashing down as people started suspecting ellie to be abusing drugs. it started when people began to notice how blasted she was in a few interviews. her nodding off didn't go unnoticed by a long shot.

in the spotlight, instances like this weren't uncommon.

you watch a talented person rise to the top, their talent evident as day as they showed it off to the word come plummeting down in a wave of wasted potential due to drugs and or alcohol. it was tragic and despite being as angry as you were with her, seeing the girl you grew up with live the way she was, created a moggy feeling in your chest.

eventually, the band made an announcement that their tour would've had to gone on a break due to "complications" but you and everyone else knew it was because ellie was in rehab.

as soon as she was discharged, the ongoing scarcity of contact between her and her family came to a brusque halt when joel offered for his daughter to come back home, at least until she was ready enough to face her new life again.

so when you found out that she'd be spending christmas with y'all, there was no doubt in your mind you'd have to brace yourself for whatever outcome would emerge from it.

"i'm gonna try and get some sleep. we still have a long way to go."

sarah boos at your resignation, exclaiming a few declarations about how you're leaving her to die of boredom. "you suck!"

you don't respond, simply smiling and turning your head as you're inevitably wisked away into a state of slumber.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

a somber tune draws out a melancholic melody on your record player, filling the corners of your cavernous room. the night breathes life through a soft breeze that grazes past your curtains. yet, as the sun sets and the cicadas begin to shriek, no amount of words in the english language can drown out the bitterness that sits in the pit of your chest.

no amount of rephrasing could rewrite the sorrow that consumes you whole, in this moment or the next.

you sit with the grief as your gaze lingers on the girl in front of you. ellie sits on the edge of your bed. she's faced away from you, as always, as she stares ahead at the neon lights that seep through the crevices of your room.

clouds of smoke forms around her figure with practiced cinematic effort and your eyes take her in with taut admiration.

you usually dread when the room grows quiet like this. the silence is blinding and tension is permeated in your walls. it leaves you high and dry and guts you with cynicism.

you wait for the moment for her to slip back into bed with you but it never comes. the thought of not being the placeholder of such intimacy rings in your ears like a bad case of tinnitus.

at least not this time around.

you sit up crawling towards her in desperate attempt to get her to look at you. you wrap your arms around her neck, resting your chin on her bare shoulder. empty viridescent eyes scan your face yet you can't seem to deconstruct any love tucked away behind them.

you knew deep down that what once existed fondly between the two of you was stripped away, little to nothing— a scarce void of recognition.

“what’s going on?” you hum out lovingly, as you press a prolonged kiss to her shoulder. “been quiet all night.”

the auburn headed girl heaved out a sigh as she dropped her head in her hands. she braced herself to face you, taking your wrists in her callused palms as she brought your hands to her mouth, pecking the backs tenderly.

“i.. i think we should talk.” she finally vocalizes. the words shoot fear down your spine, goosebumps arising were her lips once resided.

“about what?”

she gives you a look as she turns her body to face you, straightening her back a little bit more. “so you know how i’ve been getting to practice with the band lately? because their guitarist ended up quitting?”

you watched her for a moment skeptically before nodding.

her words are caught in her throat momentarily as she looks down once more. “well, cat and them asked me to join their band.” a glimmer of gleam passes across her face as she breathes out a breath she was holding.

you furrow your brows, a smile breaking onto your face. “that’s great! i’m so happy for you!” you exclaim, grabbing her chin in between your finger to press a proud kiss onto her cheek.

you knew how long ellie had wanted to be apart of something like this. after years of supporting her, you were filled to the brim with joy that she was finally reaching a steppingstone to where she wanted to be in life.

yet, you could tell something was still bothering her as she tensed up in your embrace. “well, they offered me to join but..”

“but..” you trail, eyes still held with hope.

“cat said she knew someone in los angeles that knew someone that could get us signed to a record label. the only downside is we’d have to move over there.”

your face fell as her words fell on sensitive ears.

“move?” you let out a nervous chuckle. “but.. los angeles is across the country.”

capturing her bottom lip in between her teeth, you watch as she gnaws down on it regrettably.

of course, you were elated for her. over the moon.

hell, you would’ve done anything for ellie to make this happen for her, one way or another. but hearing the catch of finally being able to pursue her dreams had you feeling selfishly opposed to the idea.

surely, she wouldn’t have made such a rash decision without taking it up with you first. ya’ll had so many plans that were already set in stone. all you wanted was at least a heads up if they were going to be altered to accustom to ellie’s new schedule pertaining to her band.

“so, what did you say?” your tone faltering from ecstatic to one that could’ve fell on deaf ears if not attentive enough.

“i said yes. i agreed that i’d go with them.” her word vomit rushes out like a fountain and your hands drop from her face as you turn away from her in shock. she grabs your smaller face in her hands, as she tips her head down to meet your avoidant gaze. you shut your eyes, muttering out a “shit” as you felt the pathetic rush of tears burn at the back of your eyelids.

“baby, i couldn’t pass this up. this is my chance to finally get out of this town. i’ve wanted this for so long.” she pleads, dropping down to her knees in front of you.

“why didn’t you wait to at least talk to me about it, ellie? three months ago, we were just planning on moving in together! and what? now you’re just about to dismiss any say that i had in this?”

she lets out an exasperated sigh of defeat as she bargains with her response.

“this is about my future! this is something i’ve wanted for years!” she encompasses her bottom lip back in between her teeth, scavenging her scattered brain to make this situation better.

“you can come with me! didn’t you always tell me you’d follow me anywhere?”

you scoff, shaking your head. “i can’t just pack up my things and run away to los angeles like this with you. it’s expensive there and with the money we have saved up, we wouldn’t last a year in a place like that with just the two of us. we’d need more time.”

don’t cry. don’t cry. you think to yourself as you feel the waterworks begin to churn.

“we could figure it out! cat mentioned a bunch of-”

you scoff at the mention of the girl’s name as you stood up from your place on the bed, walking over towards your window as you dug your fingers through your unkempt hair.

“i can’t believe you made a decision about this with cat before you even mentioned it to me. i should’ve known it was deeper than that.”

ellie stops in her tracks, an expression of hurt painted across her face at the idea of you believing she had concealed intentions between her and cat. but could you really blame yourself ? it would’ve been hard on any girl to see that her significant other’s time was consumed by another girl. especially with the considerable amount of times they spent alone together.

you would’ve been a fool to not suspect anything at all but your love for ellie ran too deep; you didn’t think you could handle it if you lost her to another girl. so you kept quiet, giving her the benefit of the doubt and begged venus herself for the girl to not prove you right.

“it was never deeper than anything.” her tone was stilled as she stared at you with accusatory.

“can you blame me ellie? i mean seriously. you’ve been alone with her more in these past few months than you’ve even talked to me! some days, i don’t even hear from you at all because you’re with her!” your voice goes up an octave as tears begin to spill from your eyes.

“it’s because of—”

“what? the band?” you cut her off, not wanting to hear her myriad of excuses. “i see the way you look at her. you look at her like she’s the only thing you see.” you brush past her to grab your shirt, pulling it over your head hastily.

“the lingering looks, the canceled plans, the way you never tell her to stop fucking holding onto your arms the way she fucking does!” bitterness begins to overpower the solemnity paying homage to the pit of your heaving chest as you jostle her scroll of excuses back to her.

“i mean, god, ellie. has it ever occurred to you that you still have obligations to set boundaries in this relationship?” your tone is constraint from going back to normal.

“are you fucking serious?” she snaps, the pitch of her voice blending with yours in a chaotic cacophony. “i’m trying to tell you about how big of a deal this band is to me, trying to make up solutions, and you’re accusing me of leaving for fucking cat?”

“i mean it was her idea, wasn’t it?” you countered. you were at your breaking point with ellie. you felt like nothing you said would ever change her perspective so you gave up.

you no longer wanted to fight for someone that couldn’t care to think twice about how their actions inflicted hurt on you.

maybe this wasn’t about her leaving anymore. instead, as the conversation became more clear, the realization settled when you realized you were losing her.

“i’m not doing this with you.” you watch as ellie gathered her things in fit of rage, throwing on her flannel and slipping her feet back into her converses as grabbed her bag, ready to walk out.

a feeling of dread quickly dissipates all of the fury you momentarily had as you rush towards her, wanting to resolve this before the two of you went to bed upset.

“ellie. come on, please.” you grab her face, pleading with eager eyes for her to not leave when things began to get bad.

you knew your girlfriend was stubborn. often alternating between fight or flight when reality began to corner her. but you knew, this time was different. no matter what the two of you chose to do, it would change the trajectory of your lives together.

she avoids your eyes and you feel the warmth cascade down your face heavily. “don’t walk out on me. please. not like this.”

she finally looks at you and it’s hard to read her.

“i need to do this for me. not for anyone else. i’m not going to wait for you to change your mind if some ulterior motive you think i have will always be in the backside of your mind.” she asserted, planted in her obstinance.

“if you leave now, i’m not gonna wait for you to come back.”

her eyes scanned your own down to your lips back to your eyes before grabbing your wrists to pull your hands away from her.

“that’s up to you.” was the last thing she said as she turned to walk out of your empty house. the moment you heard the door slam shut, you dropped to your knees as the tears began to pour.

if there was one thing ellie was good at, it was keeping her word. ever since the the two of you were puny little teenagers, she still managed to keep ahold of all of her promises, even the smallest most frivolous ones.

it was something you loved about her because it showed her resilience and firmness. her ability to stand her ground. but as you sit with your hot head in your hands against the comfort of your bed that still smelled like her, you wished so desperately that the one quality you admired so much, wasn’t something she attained.

you knew there was no use in trying to change her mind or waiting for her to. she was set in her ways and held no exemptions, not even for you.

it was a thick pill to swallow but you knew, the moment she walked out that door, it was over.

the next few days were filled with no contact. your phone was sparse of any calls or messages except for one from your mother asking you to defrost the chicken or the occasional check up from your friends when they learned about what happened.

your room was a ghost town. her presence haunting you as a constant reminder in every corner. you couldn’t run away from her even if you wanted to.

you wished you were stronger in your ways. it would’ve saved you your dignity if you were prideful but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to be. you were the worst at staying mad— just wanting to fix things with your girl.

you even racked up some ideas about how ya’ll could make this arrangement work in a heap of desperation.

so when you rendered yourself enough courage to face the situation at hand, you made your way over to her house. you were hopeful that she wasn’t completely set in throwing it all away.

but when you reached her front door, all you were met with was a note that joel gave you that was left to him by ellie. his eye bags were deep showcasing his worry and lack of sleep and you saw a few more grey tendrils in his salt and pepper hair.

ellie had left a few mornings after the fight between the two of you. she left no trace of her behind to be gotten ahold of and you, joel, or sarah hadn’t heard from her since.

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