#definitely pulling for these two <33< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[celestriix]

i heard they have a "complicated connection" with each other

[kitten4sannie]

ᴄᴀꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴜᴄʜ

ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ/ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ ➠ ꜱᴀɴ

pairing: frat boy! san x fem! reader feat. yungi

genre: frat au, smut

summary: san and his boys are more than grateful when you help them with their newest ‘feature film.’

w.c: 3k

warnings: they’re making porn okay, nasty mean dom! san, subby aloof! reader, san knowingly takes advantage of reader’s romantic feelings for him…. (bro’s the king of douchebags), manipulation/corruption, reader is treated like a fuck doll <3, brief implied mxm bc i love fruity frat boys uwu, praise/false praise, name calling/degradation, major voyeurism/exhibitionism kink, mind break ig?, dp in one hole, oral (giving), brief hair pulling, throat-fucking, tit fucking, facial, rough sex, bulge kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia, gang bang !!, it’s all unprotected btw, multiple orgasms, creampies <33

a/n: this is so fucking insane you guys….like idk why frat aus have me in such a chokehold but here we are🧍🏻‍♀️also this is totally random (and essential) info but san’s signature frat party look would be a ‘don’t hate me it turns me on’ shirt and a backwards red cap hwjhw anyways happy reading~ and please lemme know if you liked it uwu

p.s: we’re at 6.5k followers HELLO???? that’s insane 🫣 thank you so very much!!!

song rec: i like the way you kiss me - artemas (✨ male manipulation: the song ✨)

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“Smile for the camera, pretty girl,” San, the frat boy you’ve been in love with for ages, encouraged you from behind the lens of the camcorder he was holding, his smooth baritone voice like saccharine, artificial, yet sweet enough to keep you coming back for another taste. It was when you offered him a small, shy smile through the camera lense, despite the shamelessness of your current position, that he knew he had struck gold. 

San was filming one of the first of many future encounters you would be having on the expansive black leather couch inside their crowded frat den. You were stuffed to the absolute brim by two of his closest colleagues, Yunho and Mingi, who always refused to participate unless they were working together as a duo. 

“Stop looking at me like that, dude,” Mingi huffed up at Yunho from below the both of you, his shoulders and back routinely getting stuck to the couch with sweat. 

“Like what?” Yunho scoffed back, leaning further down onto your body to get closer to Mingi, essentially folding you in half, his hands closing around your ankles.

“Like you wanna kiss me. You’re gonna make me soft.” Mingi grimaced, pushing Yunho’s hands out of the way to hold onto your ankles instead, driving himself into you like a well oiled machine. He was throbbing nonstop, but there was absolutely no proof that it was because of his friend’s heavy cock rubbing along his inside the cunt they were sharing. 

Yunho’s breath hit your shoulder when he laughed. “Skill issue,” Yunho simply replied, delighted that Mingi bucked up into you even harder, encouraging him to do the same. 

Clearly, there was something vaguely homoerotic going on there, but it wasn’t San’s business, and he definitely had better things to focus on — you, his newest pupil. He watched you with dollar signs in his bright brown eyes and the taste of cheap vodka on his tongue, unable to keep himself from licking repeatedly at his chapped lips, especially now that the innocent classmate he had recently taken a liking to had no problem taking two cocks at once inside her puffy, used cunt, while he, his bros, and his trusty camcorder had a front row seat to her mutually beneficial destruction.  

“Look at you, so flexible…Are you sure you haven’t done this before, Y/N?” San teased, lowering the camera down until his sharp feline eyes were visible.

“N-no, I swear!” you squeaked out, the growing embarrassment you felt only spurring all of this newfound pleasure you were drunk on. “Just wanna, nnngh–be good for you…”

“Oh, that’s right. Silly me. You’re being a very good girl right now, baby, Don’t worry.” San couldn’t help but smile at the way you seemed to melt in front of him. It was just too easy. He glanced down at the camera, zooming in and capturing the moment his friends filled you up with their hot loads, the bliss evident on your fucked-out face. “That’s it, baby. Are you happy you stuck around here with us instead of going back to your dorm to do homework? Taking cock is much more fun, isn’t it, beautiful?” 

“So much more fun,” you sighed out, your pupils blown out just from looking at his devastatingly handsome face. It was then that you pouted. You were only here because you were in love with San, and yet, it wasn’t even his dick inside you. It wasn’t fair. “But, I’d have even more fun with you, Sannie~” 

“Is that so…?” San offered a brief shit-eating smirk to one of his boys nearby, reaching down to grab at himself through his sweatpants like he was weighing it. “It’s right here, baby. Why don’t you show us what that pretty mouth can do?” 

Both Mingi and Yunho slowed down their thrusts, but didn’t completely pull out, choosing to leisurely fuck their cum back into you, as they fought to catch their breath.

“What a loser, cumming first like that,” Mingi insulted Yunho, licking at the saliva left on his lips. 

“Your mom doesn’t have a problem with it,” Yunho chided back, reaching down past your body to smack his hand into the side of Mingi’s ass. 

“Goddamn it, you guys, I’m gonna have to edit that gay shit out.” San brought a hand up to scratch at his head in frustration. “You know what, both of you, get out of my shot and sword fight somewhere else. I’m not doing this right now,” San grumbled, shooing the two panting men away from the couch they had just made a mess on. 

“Bro acts like we don’t know about his late night tutoring sessions with Wooyoung,” Yunho whispered to Mingi, trying to stifle his laughter. 

Mingi almost choked on his breath. “Don’t forget Yeosang. San doesn’t even take physics anymore, either. Yet, he still visits that nerd every Friday like clockwork.” 

“Dude, aren’t they roommates?” Yunho cupped his hand around the side of his mouth, still using a hushed tone, “Do you think they run a train on–”

“Hey! Don’t make me haze the two of you again just for fun…” San warned from the center of the room, glaring daggers at the two men who went quiet almost immediately. His annoyance abruptly melted away once you gingerly reached up to pull his sweatpants down until the frat emblem that was stitched into the thigh pocket was no longer visible. It was when San smacked his heavy length down onto your face, that you let out a pornstar worthy moan. Cha-ching. “Oh, you like that? Hm? Want my cock?”   

“Mm-hmm…” San’s cock slapped down onto your face a second time. You quickly squeezed your thighs together to keep yourself from cumming right then and there, biting back a moan all the while. You wondered if it was obvious how truly desperate you were for the man standing above. Fuck it. You were already here, so you might as well get what you came for. “Please, give it to me, Sannie, f-fuck my mouth.” 

San could not believe his luck. His loyal fanbase would absolutely have a field day with this as soon as he uploaded it. He could already see the cash flowing in, and it made him rock hard. He sighed happily to himself, running his fingers through your hair, carefully tucking a few strands behind your ear. “It’s really true what they say…the shy ones are always the most slutty.”  

“I’m not a slut, I just–” you cut yourself off, not wanting to confess to San right before you were about to suck him off in front of his fraternity and whichever degenerate that would be watching it back later on. You pouted again, looking up at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “I want to be useful to you, like a doll~”  

“Did you hear that, everyone? Y/N here is a real life fuck doll. Let’s treat her as such,” San reminded his friends and housemates who couldn’t help but hover around the couch, a few of them sharing knowing smiles with one another. 

Your heart began to thump away inside your chest, unable to believe that your long-time crush was giving you so much of his attention and affection. It was like a dream come true. As soon as your lips parted to take in a shaky breath, San tightened his grip around your hair, yanking you forward and stuffing your mouth full of cock. “Mmnnf…!” 

Clutching the camera with one hand and the makeshift ponytail he created near the back of your head, San began thrusting sloppily into your open mouth, groaning at the slick sensation of your throat routinely closing around his moving cockhead. “Come on, doll, let me in, yeah? So I can fuck your throat raw.” 

San wasn’t lying. With each wet, rough thrust, he got closer and closer to doing what he promised you. “Mmmn…nnn…” You couldn’t tell if the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes were the result of San’s dizzying performance or the burning arousal you felt stirring inside your core simply from being watched by a room full of men you didn’t know. 

“Aww, crying already, princess? I’ll give you something to really cry about when I’m breeding that slutty cunt of yours,” San chuckled darkly, his strong hips snapping relentlessly, his pace only beginning to falter once he saw your drool mixed with his pre-cum escaping past your chin and dripping down in between your tits, leaving your soiled skin with a shiny complexion. You looked like a true whore. It was going to make the frat leader bust any second. The borderline obsessive look you had inside your teary eyes didn’t help either. “Fuck, oh my god– Somebody take the goddamn camera!” 

The youngest of the group fumbled to grab the camera, using his jacket sleeve to rub off the fingerprints he left behind on the lens, before lifting it up, capturing the exact moment San pulled out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’ and slid his cock along in between your glistening tits. 

San turned to face the camera for a second, dimples flashing, squishing your tits in between his thick fingers as he fucked them. “See, you guys? This is how you use a doll to her maximum potential,” he explained as though he were a professor on their campus. “Just look at her face. She fuckin’ loves it.” 

Instead of trying to focus on the camera, you gazed directly up at him, your cheeks warm to the touch, still love-struck, even when San’s load landed all over your face. You simply licked away what had landed on your lips, sucking the rest off the frat leader’s fingers once he so lovingly fed it to you. 

San nodded his head in approval, patting yours in an effort to reward you for your hard work. “That’s a good girl…” He tilted his head to the side. “I wanna see what else our pretty doll can do. Sound good?” 

“Really good,” you chimed, licking at your swollen lips, savoring San’s salty essence. 

Wedding bells were ringing in the distance. You would do anything for San, and if that meant letting him treat you like an onahole and fuck you in any position he saw fit for the next hour, then you would happily oblige. By the time your knees gave out from cumming for the nth time, San had you in a full nelson in the middle of the couch, positioned behind you with his arms locked around your upper half, making sure your used body was on complete display. 

“Sannie…gonna…cum…again,” you breathed out in between a few airy moans, your head feeling so heavy that you just let it hang for a second. 

San repositioned himself so that he could clutch your chin, tilting it upwards. His free hand snaked around your waist, laying his palm flat on your tummy, suddenly driving his cock up into you so hard, you couldn’t even speak if you wanted to. “Hey, be a good slut and let them see what you look like when you’re cumming your brains out.” 

You obediently gazed up at the blurry camera past your wet lashes, that is, until your eyes rolled back into your skull, only able to let out a choked gasp as you barreled over the edge of ecstasy. You didn’t have a chance to recover from the overwhelming pleasure, especially not when San pressed his hand down firmly onto the bulge his cock was routinely making inside your stomach. “P-please..! Sannie..!” 

You want another load? Fuck, baby.” Groaning, San took a second to lick one of the tears that was rolling along your cheek before it dropped, his hips slamming against yours so quick, you were already developing bruises, ones that would accompany the bright red love bites scattered across your slick skin. He pressed his lips directly to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “You know, seeing you in class and on campus, putting on that innocent virgin act, I never would’ve pegged you for a cock-hungry little slut, but everyone enjoys a good surprise every now and then…don’t they?”

“Yes–yes, yes, yes,” you chanted back, too cockdrunk to even fully process what San was saying, just focused on how full you felt, and how you needed more. 

“Good, because I got a surprise for you too.” Grunting loudly, San lowered his hips and slammed them up into you one last time, holding your trembling body still, painting your pulsing walls white. “Now, say ‘thank you, Sannie.’”

“Thank you, Sannie.” You leaned your head back to nuzzle the side of his cheek, placing your hands over his, feeling him rubbing your lower stomach in small circles, his cock still fully sheathed inside you. 

“Anytime, sugar.” San gave your hair a few strokes as a reward, before pulling out and climbing off of the couch. He took the camera back from the new guy and snapped his fingers at a few of the bricked up housemates standing nearby, pointing in your direction. “Now, show me what you’re really made of.” San gave you a charming, dimpled smile. “Make me proud, okay?” 

As an eager group of half-naked strangers surrounded you on all sides of the couch, some of them reaching out to grope your warm body, you returned San’s smile, your heart skipping a beat or two. “I’ll give it my best just for you~” 

Throughout the night, San, alongside his fraternity, conditioned you with care, meticulously molding you into their prime playtoy, one they enthusiastically passed around, easily making your tape one of the longest in their exclusive film collection. It wasn’t difficult, by any means. You were, of course, the perfect specimen: passive, pliant, and poisoned by the oxytocin that turned your brain into mush. You were a star.

Even when you were being used by more men than you could count, you couldn’t keep your attention off of Sannie, his handsome face only growing blurry when someone would make you gag on their cock, as you didn’t have the most experience with men of their size. You wanted San to yourself again, desperately wishing you could reach out for him, instead of another stranger’s twitching erection — but you endured it all, falling further into the rabbit hole of pleasure for the sake of your whirlwind infatuation. 

Everyone in the frat house deeply appreciated your dedication to their amateur film, especially San, who, by the end of it, secured the perfect spot to capture the finality of your desecration. Two of his older friends had just finished inside you, their spent cocks slipping out of your gaping hole and revealing the sticky mess they left behind.

Crouched down in front of the couch, San reached out past the camcorder to spread your puffy lips apart, each and every load you took over the past few hours now slowly spilling out onto his veined hand. “Look at this pretty cunt, you guys…so full of cum, it won’t stop coming out…” He panned up to your face with the camera, giving you a wicked smile from behind it. “You’ll be pregnant in no time, won’t you, doll? With whose baby, I wonder…”

After all that, you somehow managed to act shy, covering your flushed face, giving San heart eyes past your cum-stained, trembling fingers. “Hopefully yours…” 

“Oh, princess.” San gently rubbed his fingers over your sore cunt and clit, his friends’ loads still dribbling out of you all the while. “I don’t think you realize how cute you’re being right now~ Almost like you didn’t just slut yourself out for everyone to see, huh? Mm, do you feel cute, Y/N?” San asked in a babying tone, as he slowly stood up and towered over you. 

“You make me feel cute…” You nuzzled your cheek into the palm of San’s warm hand once he offered it to you, hoping you secured a spot inside his heart after all the hard work you put in. “I would keep going for you if I could still feel my legs.” 

“Aww, there’s always next time, isn’t there?” he suggested slyly, rubbing away some leftover cum from your cheek before caressing the side of your face. “Do you have anything to say to our loyal fanbase, baby?” 

“I love cock, especially yours, Sannie,” you slurred lovingly up at San, through the camera lens, licking your lips, mouth watering at the thought of being invited again to film another movie. “So give me a call, okay?” 

“Oh, I will, believe me.” A smug laugh erupted from San’s puffed-out chest, as he aimed the camera at his pretty boy face for a second to announce, “Gentlemen, we’ve officially turned another good girl into a filthy fuckhole. If you’d like to watch the transformation happen in real time, feel free to stop by our frat. For a good price, we’ll even let some of you bastards have a go.” And with that, he shut the camcorder off and pushed it into the youngest member’s chest, who looked at him with wide eyes. “Fuck it, we might even give you a turn.” 

The freshman choked on his spit. “R-really?” 

“I’m feeling nice today.” San sighed, running his fingers through his sweaty bangs to fix them. When the young man just stood there drooling, the frat leader grimaced. “Upload this to all our sites ASAP, and don’t forget about our twitter page this time,” he demanded, rolling his eyes when he saw the cum stains the embarrassed student left behind on his pants. “And, for fuck’s sake, will you take care of that?” 

As another member brought a can of beer over to San, the frat leader took it and cracked it open. “Can you believe that guy? He’s been here for, what, a month now? And he’s still creaming his pants like a virgin? Unbelievable.”

As you gingerly put your clothes back on, you watched San move around the frat to dab up his friends and clink their beer cans together in celebration of another successful shoot. You couldn’t help but let out a long, lovesick sigh. He would be yours one day. Until then, you would take what you could get, and of course, become a star. 

fff taglist: @yutasbutterfly02 @wisejudgedragonhairdo @dawn-iscozy @bbdeongi @multistanbaby @crazyf0rm @kittenfrostt @magicshop1913 @enbysforhongjoong @londonbridges01 @mingisdimple @motherseonghwa23 @wwooyology @everyonewooeverywhere @leo-seonghwa @yourfatherlucifer @hwallazia @vampzity

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[harrysfolklore]

still a little bitch - cs55

summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz don’t hate each other anymore, but she still calls him a little bitch. PART ONE word count: 9.1k + social media posts

folkie radio: HERE IT IS !!!! THE LONG AWAITED PART TWO OF LITTLE BITCH!!! i’m going to be completely honest with you i’m beyond terrified of posting this. little bitch was overwhelmingly liked by all of you and i’m scared this won’t live up to it 😭 but i really really hope you like it. i’m not a fan of doing part two’s of fics but this one deserves it <33 buckle up for a ride or angst, some tears and a lot of little bitch calling. LOVE YOU ALL

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

INSTAGRAM

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 302,625 others

ynpiastri highlight of imola: LEO LECLERC

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

view all 3,998 comments

username1 OMG LEO IS SO CUTE

username2 MISS THE SECOND PICTURE ???

username3 PIASTRI SIS HAS A BF?? OMG

alexandrasaintmleux My boy 😍😍

username4 what is carlos doing in the likes i thought they hated each other 😭

username5 HOW DOES OSCAR FEEL ABOUT HER BF I NEED TO KNOW

username6 not tagging the person in the second pic she’s such a piastri

landonorris You’re not slick at all my friend

↳ ynpiastri i literally never asked for your opinion

↳ username1 HEEELP

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If someone had told you a year ago that you would be making out with Carlos Sainz in his driver's room hours before the Monaco Grand Prix, you would've laughed in their faces and told them they were completely out of their mind.

Because why would you ever think of even breathing near the little bitch, right?

And yet, there you were. Your bodies pressed together as his lips explored your neck.

"Carlos," you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair, "we shouldn't... someone could come in..."

He lifted his head, his brown eyes gleaming with desire. "Do you want me to stop, hermosa?"

"No," you admitted, "I don't want you to stop."

A satisfied smile played on his lips before he pressed them against yours again. His hands caressed your hips, pulling you even closer.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispered against your lips.

You couldn't help but smile. "The feeling's mutual, you little bitch."

He chuckled softly before speaking, "And to think that you hated me."

"I still do," you replied, but your tone lacked conviction. "It's just… I hate you a little less when you do that."

His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, making you shiver.

"Oh yeah?" he murmured, his hot breath against your skin. "And this?"

You let out a small moan, your nails digging slightly into his shoulders. "Maybe I hate you even less now."

He laughed softly, his hands sliding under your t-shirt. "You definitely don't hate me."

Almost a month had passed since that night in Carlos' car, and things between you two were amazing. You hadn't put a label on what you were yet, but you felt happier than ever.

You found yourselves seeking each other out more and more. But it wasn't just about the physical attraction or the tension of your bickering anymore. You discovered a side of Carlos you'd never seen before – his warmth, his humor, his vulnerability.

And you finally let your guard down and let him see that part of you, too.

The sarcastic remarks and playful insults were still there, but now they were tinged with affection rather than malice. Your friends had started to notice the change in your dynamic, especially Lando, who couldn't quite hide his knowing smirk whenever he saw you two together.

However, you decided to play it cool, not letting your friends know that there was something more between you and Carlos. They might be able to tell by now, but you still didn't want to admit it to them.

Which lead to secret rendezvous in hidden corners of the paddock become frequent occurrences. Like right now.

"As much as I'm enjoying this," you said as his lips still lingered on your neck and his hands roamed underneath your shirt, "I should go, someone's probably coming to get you shortly."

Carlos let out a soft groan of but nodded, slowly pulling away from you.

"You're right," he admitted, his hands reluctantly leaving your skin. "I wish we could stay like this, though. "

"I know," you smiled, reaching up to smooth his tousled hair. "But we can't risk getting caught, especially not today."

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Tonight, then? After the race?"

"Assuming you don't crash into a wall, sure," you teased.

"Such faith in me," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll show you, hermosa. Watch me on that podium."

You were about to retort when a sharp knock on the door made you both freeze.

"Carlos? Five minutes until the briefing," came a voice from outside.

"Coming!" Carlos called back, "Looks like our time's up."

"I'll sneak out after you. Good luck out there, little bitch," you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Gracias, mi amor," he murmured, the endearment slipping out naturally.

You paused for a moment, surprised by the warm feeling that spread through your chest at his words. But there was no time to dwell on it. With a final kiss on your lips, he was out of the room.

Your heart was pounding as you tried to casually make your way out of Carlos' room. You were so focused on appearing nonchalant that you almost walked right into Charles.

"YN?" he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise and a knowing smirk slowly spreading across his face. "What are you doing here?"

You felt your cheeks flush as you scrambled for an explanation. "Oh, Charles! Hi! I was just… uh… coming to wish you good luck on the race."

"In Carlos' room?" his smirk widened.

Your heart sank. Of course he'd noticed where you'd come from. You tried to keep your voice steady as you replied, "No, no… I just got a bit turned around. All these corridors look the same, you know?"

"Uh-huh," Charles said, clearly not buying it for a second. "Well, thanks for the good luck wishes. Though I'm not sure how sincere they are if you're sneaking out of my teammate's room."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the knowing look in Charles' eyes made you realize it was pointless. He'd figured it out.

You were surprised Alex haven't told him already, anyway.

"Relax, YN. Your secret's safe with me," he said with a wink. "Though you might want to fix your hair before you see your brother. It's a bit… disheveled."

You groaned, quickly running your fingers through your hair as Charles walked away, still chuckling. You tried to make the flush on your cheeks go away as you reached McLaren hospitality.

Carlos Sainz was driving you crazy in the best possible way.

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ynpiastri LECLERCCCCCC FINALLY WON AND PERFECT PODIUM TYSM MONACO 😩😩😭

tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilyzneimer

view all 4,017 comments

username1 I NEVER SAID ANYTHING BAD ABOUT THE MONACO GP

username2 her friendship with charles is so underrated love them

landonorris I wish my best friend celebrated my podiums like that

↳ ynpiastri i wish my best friend got more podiums to celebrate

↳ username1 HELPPP 😭

username3 UM HELLO??? posted sainz, TAGGED HIM, said it’s a perfect podium and she’s not coming for his neck for the touch with oscar on track that made the race re start ????? WHAT IS GOING ON

↳ username2 OH I SEE

charles_leclerc Thank you for coming to Ferrari just to wish me good luck and not anything else, that was definitely what made me win 😉

↳ ynpiastri stfu

↳ alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂

↳ oscarpiastri I’m really confused right now

carlossainz55 ❤️

↳ username1 BITCH WTF

↳ username2 ENEMIES TO LOVERS ???

TWITTER

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The party at Jimmy'z was in full swing, the air electric with the excitement of Charles' Grand Prix victory. The club was packed with F1 drivers, team personnel, and celebrities, all riding the high of the race day adrenaline.

You stood near the bar, your fourth glass of champagne in hand, feeling pleasantly buzzed. The room spun slightly as you looked around, your gaze inevitably drawn to Carlos. He was across the room, laughing with Pierre and Charles, but his eyes kept finding you in the crowd.

Every time your eyes met, you felt a jolt of electricity. The memory of his touch from earlier in the day lingered on your skin, making you crave more. You watched as he excused himself from his conversation and made his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with effortless grace.

"Enjoying the party, hermosa?" he asked, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close.

You shivered at his proximity, the scent of his cologne making your head spin even more. "It's alright," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Could be better though."

Carlos's eyes darkened at your words. He glanced around quickly before leaning in even closer, his lips barely brushing your ear. "Meet me outside in five minutes."

Before you could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd. Your heart raced as you waited, trying not to watch the clock too obviously. When five minutes had passed, you made your way outside, your steps slightly unsteady.

The cool night air was a relief after the stuffy club. You spotted Carlos in one of the alleyways behind Jimmy'z. He turned as you approached, a smile spreading across his face.

"Remember the last time we were here?" he asked, pulling you close.

You giggled, the alcohol making you bold. "Yeah, when you kissed me unprovoked."

"Unprovoked?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, his hands settling on your waist. "I was being provoked by how insanely gorgeous you looked. Still do, by the way," he leaned even closer. "And if I recall correctly, you enjoyed it a lot."

"Maybe I did," you giggled, drunkenness clear in your every move. "Should we do it again?"

Without overthinking, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a bold, impulsive kiss. It was tentative at first, testing the waters, but then you felt Carlos smile against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

As the kiss intensified, you felt Carlos's hands slide from your waist to your lower back, pressing you even closer against him. The heat of his body contrasted with the cool night air, sending shivers down your spine. Your own hands moved up to tangle in his hair, earning a low groan from him that you felt more than heard.

Breaking apart for air, Carlos rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in quick pants. "I'm crazy about you, Piastri," he murmured before leaning in for another kiss.

You were so lost in the moment that you didn't hear the footsteps of someone approaching.

"You freaking muppets! I knew it!"

You broke apart, startled, to see Lando standing there, a triumphant grin on his face.

"Lando!" you whined, burying your face in Carlos's chest. "Leave us alone!"

Carlos chuckled, his arms still around you. "How long have you known, cabron?"

"Please, you two are about as subtle as a neon sign," Lando smirked, crossing his arms. "Oh, this is too good. You two are so busted."

"Lando, please," Carlos started, but you cut him off.

"Go away, Lando!" you whined, clinging to Carlos. "We're busy."

Lando laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you lovebirds alone. But we're definitely talking about this later!"

As Lando walked away, you turned back to Carlos, wrapping your arms around his neck, suddenly feeling very tired and more than a little drunk. "Take me home?" you asked, your words slurring slightly.

"Of course, mi amor," Carlos nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll drive you to Oscar's."

"Nooo," you whined, clinging to him. "I want to stay with you tonight. Please?"

Carlos hesitated for a moment, clearly torn. "YN, you're pretty drunk. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

You nodded vigorously, then immediately regretted it as the world spun. "I'm sure. I just want to be with you. Please?"

"Alright, alright, you win. Let’s get you back to my place," he said gently, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

You beamed at him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, little bitch."

The night might have been a blur, but one thing was crystal clear—you were falling hard for Carlos Sainz, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

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ynpiastri have you guys ever tried hangover pancakes ?

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username1 OMG???

username2 SHE DOES HAVE A BF

lilyzneimer 👀👀👀

username3 BITCH THATS CARLOS SAINZ

↳ username1 nah there’s no way, they hate each other

charles_leclerc I did before you did

↳ ynpiastri don’t be jealous charlie 😚

landonorris BUSTED BUSTED

↳ ynpiastri bro get over it

↳ landonorris never

↳ username1 LET ME INNNNN

username4 people saying this is carlos sainz, do you guys not know their history or something

↳ username5 yeah but enemies to lovers is a real thing

oscarpiastri 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

↳ ynpiastri ily can you pick me up?

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You could practically hear your friend's and brother's laugh through the phone as you muted the conversation. Shaking your head, you grabbed your jacket and headed out to meet Carlos.

He was waiting for you outside, leaning against a lamppost with casual smile. The sight of him - dressed in jeans and a simple t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled by the breeze - made your heart skip a beat.

"There you are," he said, his face lighting up as you approached. "Ready to go?"

Without thinking twice about it, you wrapped your arms his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss, taking him by surprise. Carlos' eyes widened but he quickly melted into it, his arms wrapping around your waist. When you finally pulled away, he was looking at you with a mix of delight and wonder.

"Well," he said, a bit breathlessly, "that's quite a hello. What was that for?"

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the blush creeping up your cheeks. "Do I need a reason to kiss you?"

"No, hermosa," he said, pulling you closer. "You never need a reason. You're allowed to kiss me whenever you want."

With a playful glint in your eye. You pulled him in and kissed him again.

God you were down bad, it's embarrassing.

"Dios mio," he murmured as you pulled away, "I could get used to this."

You laughed, linking your arm with his as you started walking. "Don't get too comfortable, little bitch. I still have a reputation to maintain."

Carlos chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Of course, Piastri. Whatever you say."

As you strolled through the streets of Montreal, you found yourself initiating more little touches - a squeeze of his hand, a kiss on the cheek, leaning into him as you walked. Each time, you noticed how Carlos's face would light up, how he'd pull you a little closer.

It occurred to you that maybe he'd been holding back, worried about pushing you too far or too fast.

For the past month, you'd been letting your guard down, bit by bit. Carlos had somehow managed to sneak past your defenses with his charm and the warmth that had been hidden beneath all that banter. You'd always prided yourself on being independent, on not letting anyone get too close. But with Carlos, things felt different, at least now they did.

Still, there were moments when doubt crept in, when old insecurities bubbled to the surface. What if this was all just a fling for him? What if you were reading too much into the way he looked at you, the way he seemed to treasure every kiss and touch? What if you eventually went back to your bitterness towards each other?

You hadn't put a label on whatever this was between you, and the ambiguity sometimes left you feeling unsteady, as if you were walking on a tightrope without a safety net.

But bringing it up to him felt intimidating.

"Whats on your mind?" Carlos asked once he noticed that you went quiet and your eyes were wandering.

You considered bringing up the subject, but decided to ignore the thought for now.

"Nothing," you replied with a small smile, squeezing his hand. "Just thinking about how Lando is going to have our heads for not wanting to hang out with him."

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. "Lando will survive. He can’t have us all to himself all the time."

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As the Spanish Grand Prix weekend approached, you found yourself in Barcelona, exploring the city with Carlos in a way you never imagined possible.

The man who once irritated you beyond belief was now showing you his childhood spots, sharing stories of his youth with a boyish enthusiasm that made your heart flutter.

When you told Oscar about your plans to head to Barcelona early with Carlos, you braced yourself for the teasing that was sure to follow.

Your brother didn't disappoint, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he launched into a series of jokes about you "fraternizing with the enemy" and how you'd "finally succumbed to Sainz's charms." But beneath the banter, you could see the genuine happiness in Oscar's eyes.

After the laughter died down, he pulled you into a hug and told you he was glad you'd found someone who made you happy, even if it was "that Spanish menace."

He was the best brother you could've asked for.

"And this," Carlos said, gesturing to a small, unassuming restaurant tucked away in a narrow street, "is where you'll find the best paella in all of Barcelona. Maybe even in all of Spain."

"That's a bold claim, Sainz," you raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You better not be overselling it."

"Would I ever lie to you, Piastri?"

"Yes, absolutely," you retorted, but there was no bite to your words.

As you sat down to eat, the aroma of saffron and seafood filled the air. Carlos watched expectantly as you took your first bite, and you couldn't help but close your eyes in delight at the flavors.

"Okay, I'll admit it," you said, opening your eyes to see his triumphant smile. "This might actually be the best paella I've ever had."

"I told you!" he exclaimed, looking far too pleased with himself. "Never doubt a Spaniard when it comes to paella."

"Alright, you win this round," you rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.

As you continued to enjoy the meal, a comfortable silence settled between you and Carlos. It was in these quiet moments that you found yourself marveling at how far you'd come - from barely tolerating each other to... whatever this was now.

"You know, I've been thinking," Carlos broke the silence, his voice softer than usual, "We've talked a lot about my childhood here in Spain, but I realize I don't know much about your early years in Australia."

You looked up from your plate, a bit surprised by the sudden change in topic. "Oh, well, what do you want to know?"

Carlos leaned forward, his elbows on the table, genuine curiosity in his warm brown eyes. "Everything. What was it like growing up there? What did little YN enjoy back then?”

You paused for a moment, caught off guard by Carlos's question. Your mind immediately went to your childhood memories with Oscar, and you found yourself launching into a familiar narrative.

"Well, growing up in Australia was quite an adventure, especially with Oscar around," you began, a fond smile playing on your lips, “Oscar's always been obsessed with anything that has wheels. Even as a toddler, he'd zoom around the house with his toy cars, making engine noises..."

As you launched into the story of Oscar's journey from go-karts to Formula 1, you found yourself getting carried away with the memories. You talked about the early morning drives to races, the smell of petrol and rubber that became a constant in your life, the way your parents juggled work and Oscar's growing career.

"...and then there was this one time, Oscar was about 14, and he'd just won a major championship. The interviewer asked him who his biggest inspiration was, and do you know what he said?" You paused, smiling at the memory.

Carlos shook his head, completely engrossed in your story.

"He said it was me. Can you believe that? His older sister who couldn't tell a thing about cars. I think I cried for an hour after that interview."

As you finished your tale, you noticed Carlos watching you with an unreadable expression. "What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Carlos smiled softly, reaching across the table to take your hand.

"Hermosa," he said gently, "I asked about your childhood, and you've told me all about Oscar's racing career."

You blinked, realizing he was right. "Oh, I... I guess I got carried away. Sorry about that."

"No, no," Carlos squeezed your hand reassuringly. "I love hearing about Oscar, truly. But I want to know about you. What did you like growing up? What were your passions, your dreams?"

You blinked, suddenly realizing that you had automatically steered the conversation towards Oscar, as you had done countless times before when asked about your childhood. The fact that Carlos had redirected the focus back to you left you momentarily speechless.

"I... wow," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before."

"Really? But surely people must have been interested in your childhood too?"

You shrugged, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. "Not really. I mean, Oscar was always the star, you know? My pride and joy, the racing prodigy. People were always more interested in his story."

Carlos squeezed your hand gently. "Well, I'm interested in your story. Tell me about little YN Piastri, not just Oscar's sister."

You took a deep breath, feeling a lot of emotions you couldn't quite name. Carlos's genuine interest in your personal story touched something deep within you, a part of yourself you'd almost forgotten existed.

"Actually," you began, your voice soft as you delved into long-buried memories, "I was always drawn to art. Not just painting or drawing, but all forms of visual expression. I remember spending hours in our backyard, arranging leaves and flowers into patterns, or using chalk to create massive, colorful murals on our driveway."

"That sounds beautiful. Did you take classes?" Carlos leaned in, his eyes bright with interest.

"Not really. I wasn't great in school, to be honest. Sitting still, focusing on textbooks - it just wasn't my strong suit. But give me a blank canvas or a lump of clay, and I could lose myself for hours."

"So why didn't you pursue it?" Carlos asked gently.

You paused, considering Carlos's question. It was something you'd never really articulated before, even to yourself.

"I guess... I never saw it as something to pursue," you said slowly. "My focus was always on Oscar. From the moment he started showing promise in racing, I just naturally fell into the role of his protector, his support system."

You smiled softly, remembering those early days. "Oscar was so talented, but he was also just a kid with big dreams and even bigger pressures. I felt like it was my job to shield him from the worst of it, to be his safe haven. It wasn't a sacrifice, not really. It was a choice I made out of love. Oscar's success, his happiness - that became my passion."

"But what about your art?" Carlos pressed, his tone careful but curious.

You shrugged, a mix of emotions flickering across your face. "It just… faded into the background, I guess. There were always races to attend, equipment to pack. My sketchbooks got buried under stacks of racing magazines. My easel gathered dust in the corner of my room."

Carlos reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "YN , that's… that's incredibly selfless of you. But don't you miss it?"

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you at Carlos's question, his gentle touch grounding you.

"I do," you admitted softly, your eyes meeting his. "I've been Oscar's sister, his supporter, for so long. I'm not sure I remember how to be anything else."

"Oh, mi amor," Carlos said softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "You're so much more than just Oscar's sister. You're YN - a woman with a beautiful heart and a determinate mind. Your love for Oscar is admirable, but it doesn't have to be the only thing that defines you," he paused, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, "I'm honored to be close to that woman. The one who sees beauty in leaves and flowers, who can lose herself in creating art, even when she forgets about it."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But old habits die hard, and you found yourself deflecting with humor. "Wow, Sainz," you said, a teasing glint in your eye. "Are you always this sappy, or am I just special?"

Carlos's face broke into a grin, recognizing your playful tone. "Only for you, Piastri. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. "Your reputation as what? A little bitch?"

Carlos' face broke into a wide grin, "One day you'll stop calling me that."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the earlier conversation dissolving into familiar banter. "Keep telling yourself that, Sainz."

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ynpiastri te quiero barcelona 🫶

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username1 OH

username2 WHAT IS HAPPENINGGGG

alexandrasaintmleux 👀❤️

username3 SHE THINKS SHES SLICK CROPPING CARLOS’ EYES GIRL WE CAN TELL ITS HIM

lilyzneimer 🥹

username4 the piastri - sainz beef turning into piastri - sainz romance wasn’t on my bingo card

nicolepiastri You failed Spanish like three times in high school…

↳ username1 HEEEEELPPP

↳ oscarpiastri 😂😂😂😂😂😂

↳ username2 mama piastri is too iconic for constantly dragging her kids

↳ ynpiastri 😩

landonorris I SEE HOW IT IS NOW

↳ username1 help lando’s dreams came true

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Saturday arrived in Barcelona, which meant it was time for qualifying.

After your quick rendezvous with Carlos in his motorhome - something that was routine by now- you made your way towards the paddock club to meet Alex and Kika. Your mind was still buzzing from Carlos' touch, your skin tingling where his lips had been just moments ago.

Your hair was slightly tousled, a result of Carlos' fingers running through it. You could still feel the ghost of his kisses on your neck, and the memory sent a shiver down your spine. Pausing briefly, you tried to smooth down your clothes and fix your appearance in the reflection of a nearby trailer. The last thing you needed was more knowing looks from your friends, you had enough when Lando teasing you and Carlos whenever he had the chance.

Approaching the paddock club, you spotted Alex and Kika waiting for you near the entrance.

"Hey, there you are!" Alex called out as you neared. "We were starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "In a place I've been coming to for years? Not likely."

The three of you sat down at a nearby table and ordered something to drink. The conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from race predictions to the latest paddock gossip.

"So," Kika said, leaning forward towards you, "how are things going with Carlos? You two seem pretty cozy lately."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, the warmth spreading to your cheeks. You took a sip of your drink to buy yourself a moment, but you couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips. "Things are good. Really good, actually."

"But…?" Alex's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied your face.

"But nothing," you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "We're just enjoying each other's company."

Kika's eyebrows shot up, her expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet? I thought for sure you two would be official by now."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, bringing all your insecurities rushing to the surface. The ones you've tried to push away since this thing with Carlos began.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your friends knew you too well. The smile you'd been wearing moments ago faltered, and you could feel the doubt creeping in.

"Hey," Alex said softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. Carlos is crazy about you, anyone can see that. Every relationship moves at its own pace."

You nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, of course. We're just taking things slow, that's all."

But as the conversation moved on to other topics, you couldn't shake the doubt that had taken root in your mind. You found yourself only half-listening, your thoughts a swirling mess of questions and insecurities.

Why hadn't Carlos made things official? Was he keeping his options open? Were you still just his rival's sister who picked fights with him in his eyes? The rational part of your brain tried to argue that labels didn't matter, that what you and Carlos had was special regardless of what you called it. But the insecure part wouldn't be silenced so easily.

As you sat there, surrounded by the chatter of your friends and the energy of the circuit, you felt a strange sense of isolation creep over you. You were in Carlos' home city, surrounded by his world, and yet you'd never felt more unsure of your place in it.

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"Finally," Carlos breathed, as he opened the door. Before you could utter a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside, kicking the door shut behind you. In one fluid motion, he pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours.

"Carlos, what-" you started, but he silenced you with a searing kiss.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. "Sorry," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I've been wanting to do that all day."

"You saw me right after the race, you needy little bitch."

Carlos' hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. "That was hours ago. Far too long."

"Seriously?" you teased, though you couldn't keep the affection out of your voice. "You're ridiculous, Sainz."

"Maybe," he conceded, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. "But you like it."

Carlos began to trail kisses down your neck, his touch igniting sparks across your skin. You laughed as he pulled you towards the bed, your fingers intertwining with his.

"Slow down, hotshot. The bed's not going anywhere."

"But my patience might," he turned to face you, "Do you know how hard it was to focus on the post-race interviews when all I could think about was getting you alone?"

"Oh, poor baby," you teased gently, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "It must have been tough, going over the race data after a P6 finish."

Carlos groaned dramatically, pulling you closer. "Torture, hermosa. Absolute torture."

Carlos guided you towards the bed, his hands never leaving your body. With a gentle push, he lowered you onto the mattress, quickly following to hover above you. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and passionate, as his hands roamed your sides, slipping under the hem of your shirt.

You arched into his touch, your own hands exploring the firm planes of his back. Carlos broke the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot on your neck that always made you gasp.

"You're really needy today, aren't you?" you said, running your fingers through his hair.

Carlos' lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes softening with affection. "I'm always needy when it comes to my girl," he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips once more.

Your breath caught in your throat, not just from the sensation of his warm breath on your skin, but from his words. My girl. The phrase echoed in your mind, stirring up the doubts you'd been trying to push away.

Suddenly, Kika's voice from your earlier conversation rang in your ears. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet?"

The warmth that had been building in your chest turned cold as uncertainty crept in. If you were his girl, then why hadn't he made it official?

Carlos must have sensed your sudden tension because he pulled back slightly, his brow furrowing. "YN? What's wrong?"

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the doubts. "Nothing," you said, your voice not quite as steady as you'd hoped.

He studied your face for a moment, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you sure? We can stop if you're not feeling it."

"No, no," you assured him quickly, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I'm fine. Just… got distracted for a second."

Carlos didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded slowly. "Okay, but promise me you'll tell me if something's bothering you?"

You nodded, pulling him back down for another kiss. As you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you pushed your concerns to the back of your mind.

A few moments later, you laid tangled beneath the covers, your head resting on Carlos' chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder. The afterglow should have been blissful, but your mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts you couldn't quiet.

Carlos must have sensed your unease because he shifted slightly, tilting his head to look at you. "YN? What's wrong, hermosa? You seem… distant. Are you not feeling well?"

You sighed, debating whether to voice your concerns. "It's nothing, really. I just…" you trailed off, unsure how to continue.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

You bit your lip, your heart racing. "It's just… when you called me 'your girl' earlier… I don't know. It made me think."

"Think about what?" Carlos' brow furrowed slightly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no, you didn't," you assured him quickly. "It's more about… us, I guess. About what we are. What this is between us."

"YN," he said, his voice low and intense. "I thought I've been clear about how I feel about you. I've been yours since that kiss at Jimmy'z last year. Maybe even before that, if I'm being honest."

His words should have reassured you, but they only made your anxiety spike. You sat up abruptly, pulling the sheet around you.

You'd wanted clarity, but now that you had it, you didn't know how to handle it.

"But what does that mean, Carlos?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "We've been doing... whatever this is for months now, but we've never really talked about it. We haven't put a label on it."

Carlos sat up too, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "I didn't think we needed to. I thought it was obvious how I felt about you."

"Obvious?" you repeated, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "How is it obvious when we've never actually discussed what we are to each other?"

Carlos reached for your hand, but you pulled away, standing up from the bed. You began pacing, your mind racing.

"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice soft. "Come back to bed. Let's talk about this."

You shook your head, reaching for your clothes. "I can't... I need to think. I need some space."

As you hurriedly dressed, Carlos got out of bed, pulling on his boxers. "Are you really running away, Piastri?" he asked, a hint of anger in his voice now. "I thought we were past this. That you weren't that arrogant girl who was ready to pick up pointless fights with me anymore."

His words stung, cutting deeper than you thought possible. It felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs and leaving you reeling. The accusation brought back all the insecurities you'd been trying to suppress, all the doubts about whether you deserved this happiness with Carlos. It was as if he'd reached into your chest and squeezed your heart, leaving you raw and vulnerable.

You whirled to face him, eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "Arrogant? Is that what you think of me?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Carlos ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. "I just... I thought we'd moved past the point where you'd run away instead of talking to me."

"Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to run if you'd actually communicate with me," you shot back.

"Communicate?" Carlos scoffed. "That's rich coming from you. You're the one who's been keeping me at arm's length this whole time!"

The accusation hit you like a slap. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, YN," Carlos said, his voice rising. "Every time things get too real, you pull away. You make a joke, you change the subject. It's like you're afraid of admitting that this might actually mean something."

"That's not fair," you protested, feeling tears prick at your eyes. "I'm here, aren't I? I've been here! But how am I supposed to be sure that this isn't just a fling for you? Or some twisted way to mess with Oscar?"

"Oscar?" Carlos looked you with wide eyes, shaking his head, "What does Oscar have to do with anything? This is about us, YN. You and me."

"Is it?" you challenged, your voice breaking. "Because sometimes I don't even know what 'us' means. Are we together? Are we just having fun? How am I supposed to know?"

Carlos' expression softened slightly, but his frustration was still evident. "You're not being fair, Piastri. I've always been the one to show my desire to be with you. I did it that night after Lando's party, remember? But you're the one who runs away when things get real."

His words hit home, and you felt a fresh wave of guilt and confusion wash over you.

"I don't... I don't run away," you said weakly, but even to your own ears, it sounded unconvincing.

"Don't you?" Carlos asked, his voice softening. "Every time I try to take a step forward, you take three steps back. I'm not the one who's afraid of labels here."

Silence lingered in the air, you felt physically sick. Carlos' words were true, every single one of them, deep down you knew it. As much as you tried to let your guard down with him, your self defense mechanisms always came through.

"When are you going to stop sabotaging your own happiness for other people?" Carlos asked after another minute of silence. "This isn't about Oscar, or anyone else. It's about you being too scared to admit that you might actually care about me."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, once again. "Scared? You think I'm scared? I'm terrified, Carlos! Terrified of getting hurt, of ruining everything. And you're not exactly making it easy.""

"How am I not making it easy?" Carlos demanded, his voice rising. "I've been nothing but clear about my feelings for you. Every time I get close, you shut down!" Carlos shouted, his frustration boiling over. "It's like you're allergic to any kind of emotional intimacy!"

"Oh, that's something coming from you," you spat back. "Mr. 'I-can-charm-anyone-with-a-smile'. How do I know this isn't just another conquest for you?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You saw the hurt flash across Carlos' face, quickly replaced by anger.

"A conquest?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "Is that really what you think of me? After everything I've shared with you?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," you said, your voice breaking. "This whole thing is just... it's too much. I can't do this."

You turned towards the door, reaching for the handle. Carlos stepped forward, his anger dissipating, replaced by desperation.

"YN, wait," he pleaded. "Please, don't go. Not like this. Let's talk, mi amor. Don't run from me."

The term of endearment, spoken so softly, almost broke your resolve. You paused, your hand on the doorknob, torn between the urge to flee and the desire to fall into his arms.

"I... I can't, Carlos," you whispered, your voice thick with tears. "I need some time. Some space to think."

"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We can figure this out together. Just... stay. Please."

You turned to look at him one last time, your heart breaking at the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry," you managed to say. "I'll... I'll call you later."

And with that, you stepped out into the hallway, leaving Carlos standing alone in his room.

You immediately felt like you made a huge mistake.

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You were curled up on the couch in your apartment, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, staring blankly at the TV screen. The sound was muted, the flickering images providing a distraction you desperately needed but couldn't quite focus on. Your phone lay face down on the coffee table, ignored despite the occasional vibration of incoming messages.

Your mind wandered to Carlos, it always did.

The memory of your argument played on repeat in your head, each hurtful word a fresh wound. You couldn't shake the image of his face - the hurt, the anger, the desperation in his eyes as you walked out the door. It haunted you.

Everything that had happened that night felt like a blur. The passion of your initial encounter, the tenderness of his touch, the way he called you "his girl" - it all seemed so perfect until your insecurities came crashing in. You wondered if you had overreacted, if you had let your fears get the best of you.

Carlos had been right about one thing - you did have a tendency to run when things got too real. It was a defense mechanism, a way to protect yourself from getting hurt. But in doing so, were you sabotaging your own happiness, like he said?

The only thing you were sure about was that it wasn't physical attraction or the remaining tension of your bickering from last year anymore, Carlos saw you in a way no one else did, and that terrified you as much as it thrilled you.

Your conversation with Lando from earlier that day came back to you. You had called him in a moment of panic, spilling out all your fears and doubts. Lando, ever the unusual voice of reason, had listened patiently.

"YN," he had said, his voice gentle but firm, "you can't let your insecurities ruin what you and Carlos could have. I've known him for years, and I've never seen him like this with anyone else. He really cares about you."

"But what if it doesn't work out?" you had asked, your voice small. "What if we end up hating each other again?"

Lando had chuckled at that. "You two are so stubborn, you know that? You're both so afraid of letting your guard down that you're pushing each other away. Someone needs to take the first step, YN. And from what Carlos has told me, he's been trying. Maybe it's your turn."

His words echoed in your mind now, mixing with the memory of Carlos' plea for you to stay.

You made a huge mistake by walking away that night, and now you didn't know how to fix it.

A soft knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts. You hesitated, not wanting to face anyone, but another, more insistent knock followed.

"YN? It's me, open up," Oscar's voice called from the other side.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the couch and shuffled to the door. When you opened it, your brother's concerned face greeted you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, his eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. "Can I come in?"

You nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. Oscar walked in, his gaze taking in the dim lighting and the general disarray of your usually tidy living room. He turned to face you, worry etched across his features.

"What's going on, sis? I heard you're not going to Austria," he said, his voice gentle but probing. "And it looks like you haven't slept in days."

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I just need a break," you mumbled, moving back to the couch and curling up in your previous position.

Oscar followed, sitting down beside you.

He reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle and familiar. "YN, talk to me. What's really going on? Is this about Carlos?"

At the mention of Carlos' name, you felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over you. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Oscar noticed your reaction and pulled you into a tight hug.

"Oh, sis," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "What happened?"

You buried your face in your brother's shoulder, finally letting the tears fall. Between sobs, you started to explain everything that had happened in Barcelona - the conversation with Kika and Alex, your growing insecurities, the night in Carlos's hotel room, your argument. As you spoke, you could feel the weight of the past week pressing down on you, the emotions you'd been bottling up threatening to spill over.

"…and now, I don't know what to do," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I've ruined everything."

"YN, listen to me. You haven't ruined anything," Oscar said, "Relationships are complicated, and misunderstandings happen. But from what you've told me and what I've seen, it sounds like Carlos cares about you a lot. And I think you care about him too, more than you're willing to admit to yourself."

"But what if it all goes wrong?" you wiped your eyes, sniffling. "What if we end up hating each other even more than we did before? What if... what if I'm not enough for him?"

Oscar shook his head, a small smile on his face. "You've always been your own worst enemy, you know that?" you almost rolled your eyes at he familiar statement. "Remember when I left for boarding school? You were so upset, convinced that I was leaving you behind forever. You didn't want to say goodbye, afraid it would hurt too much."

The memory flooded back, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "Yeah, I remember," you said softly.

"But do you remember what happened after?" Oscar prompted.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "We ended up talking more than ever. Phone calls, letters, video chats…"

"Exactly," Oscar said, squeezing your hand. "You were so scared of losing me that you almost pushed me away. But when you finally opened up, our relationship grew stronger than ever."

"That's different, Oscar. This is… it's Carlos. It's complicated."

"Is it?" Oscar challenged. "Or are you just making it complicated because you're scared? I've seen the way you two look at each other. It's not just some leftover tension from your rivalry. It's real."

You sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. "But what if-"

"No more 'what ifs'," Oscar interrupted. "You can't live your life afraid of what might happen. You're missing out on what's right in front of you," you were quiet for a moment, considering his words until he spoke again, "I know you’ve held back a lot in your life—for me, for our family—but I don’t want you holding back when it comes to Carlos.”

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Oscar hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I mean… I’ve seen how much you sacrifice for the people you love. You’ve put so much of your own life on hold to support me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But when it comes to Carlos—this thing between you—it’s different. I would never forgive myself if you sacrificed that for my sake.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you realized how much Oscar understood you, maybe even more than you realized. “Oscar, I’m not holding back for you, I—”

“I know you’re not doing it consciously," he interrupted gently, "But I can see it. You’re worried about how our dynamic will change, or maybe how I’ll react. But, YN, I want you to be happy. If being with Carlos makes you happy, then I want you to go for it. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

You sat there, absorbing what Oscar said. His words made you feel a lot of different things all at once. You realized he was right - you had been holding back, not just with Carlos, but in many parts of your life. This scared you, but also made you feel free.

It was time to put yourself first.

"I hate that you're always so wise, you're my little brother, I'm supposed to be the one giving you advice, not the other way around."

"To be fair, I was thrown into the motorsport world at an early age, you experience all kinds of drama there," he shrugged, making both of you laugh, "Now, are you going to talk to him, or do I need to drag you to Austria myself? Or even Madrid?"

You let out a small laugh, the first genuine one in days. "I guess I'll talk to him. But I still don't feel like going to Austria, I need some time to gather my thoughts."

"Fair enough," Oscar nodded, "Just don't take too long, okay? You both deserve to be happy. And Lando is freaking out because you're ruining his dreams again."

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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 397,538 others

ynpiastri i almost forgot how it felt to watch a race on tv. congratulations boys 🥳 and ty to my queen @carmenmmundt for the last picture

tagged: oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, georgerussell63

view all 4,288 comments

username1 QUEEN WE MISS YOU WHAT HAPPENED

username2 the paddock is not the same without the most iconic piastri

lilyzneimer 🤍

carmenmmundt 😚😚

username3 im pretty sure this is the first time she’s not at a race since oscar’s f2 days

username4 THE 55 HELLO?????

username5 WHATS THEIR SHIP NAME?? PAINZ???

username6 she’s down bad for the smooth operator this is what i call enemies to lovers

landonorris You seem happy for my DNF…

↳ ynpiastri stfu

carlossainz55 ❤️

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You paced nervously in your apartment, your heart racing as you waited for Carlos to arrive. The soft carpet muffled your footsteps but did nothing to quiet the storm of thoughts in your head. You had rehearsed what you wanted to say a hundred times, but now that the moment was here, all your carefully prepared words seemed to evaporate.

Your eyes flitted to the clock on the wall, then to your phone, checking the time for what felt like the thousandth time. The knock on the door made you jump, your pulse skyrocketing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "It's just Carlos," you told yourself, but that thought brought both comfort and a new wave of anxiety.

With trembling hands, you smoothed down your shirt and ran a hand through your hair before opening the door. Carlos stood there, looking tired but as handsome as ever. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his hands through it—a nervous habit you'd noticed before.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, a mix of relief and apprehension in his gaze. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions.

"Hi," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped aside to let him in, hyper-aware of his presence as he moved past you.

"Hi," he replied, his voice warm as he entered.

You led him to the living room, settling on the couch. There was a moment of awkward silence, the tension palpable. You both opened your mouths to speak at the same time.

"I'm sorry—“

"I wanted to—"

You both laughed, some of the tension dissipating. The sound of his laughter, even tinged with nervousness, helped to ease some of your anxiety.

"You go first," Carlos said, his eyes soft as he looked at you. His gaze was patient, encouraging, and you drew strength from it.

You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, knowing he deserved your full honesty. "Carlos, I'm so sorry for running away in Barcelona. It wasn't fair to you, and I've been kicking myself ever since. I… I panicked. Everything was happening so fast, and I just… I couldn't handle it."

He nodded, his expression understanding. He reached out to take your hand, his touch sending a shiver through you. "I appreciate that, YN. Truly. But I owe you an apology too. I shouldn't have pushed you or made assumptions about your feelings. I got caught up in the moment and didn't consider how overwhelming it might be for you."

"No, Carlos, you were right," you shook your head, squeezing his hand. "I do run away when things get too real. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to myself either."

You paused, gathering your courage. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure Carlos must be able to hear it. "The truth is, I care about you. A lot. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time. And that terrifies me."

Carlos moved closer, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. The tenderness in his touch almost undid you. "Why does it terrify you, mi amor?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.

You leaned into his touch, feeling tears prick at your eyes. The vulnerability of the moment was almost overwhelming, but you forced yourself to continue. "Because I'm not used to feeling this vulnerable. I've always prided myself on being independent, on not needing anyone. It's been my armor, my way of protecting myself. But with you… you see parts of me that I don't show anyone else. You've managed to slip past all my defenses, and it scares me how much I want to let you in completely."

Carlos listened intently, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you spoke. His warmth, his steady presence, made the walls you had built around yourself seem almost unnecessary.

"It's okay to be scared, hermosa. I understand why you feel like you need to protect yourself. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I’m here, and I want to be here for you, with you."

Your heart swelled at his words, and despite the vulnerability, a small part of you felt lighter, freer. "I’ve never let anyone get this close before," you admitted. "But I don’t want to keep running, Carlos. I don’t want to keep pushing you away."

Carlos smiled softly, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "I don’t want you to run, either. I want us to be together, whatever comes next. But only if that’s what you want."

You exhaled shakily, emotions swirling inside you like a storm. "It is what I want," you said, your voice firm but laced with emotion. "I want to be with you. I’m tired of being scared of something that could be so good."

A look of pure relief crossed Carlos' face, and he pulled you into his arms. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling his heart beating steadily under your cheek. His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he were afraid you might disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, answering the unspoken fear that lingered between you both.

Carlos kissed the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that."

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest, "I promise I'll change, I'll be-"

"Mi amor," Carlos interrupted softly, "I don't want to change you. I fell for you exactly as you are—stubborn, brilliant, and fiercely independent. Those are the qualities that drew me to you in the first place."

You couldn't help but smile at that, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Even when I was being a pain in your ass?" you asked, a hint of your usual sass creeping into your voice.

"Especially then," he chuckled, the sound warming you from the inside out. "You know, even when we were at each other's throats, I was always drawn to you. I wanted to know you better, to understand what made you such a firecracker."

"Really?" you asked, surprised.

"Really," he confirmed, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Besides, you were infuriatingly attractive when you were angry. The way your eyes would flash, the flush on your cheeks… it took everything in me not to kiss you right then and there sometimes."

You felt a familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks at Carlos' words, but you couldn't help the playful smirk that tugged at your lips. "Oh, so that's why you were always trying to rile me up, huh? And here I thought you were just being an insufferable little bitch."

"Ah, there's the Piastri I know," Carlos threw his head back in laughter. "I was wondering when your sharp tongue would make an appearance."

"You love it," you teased, feeling more like yourself than you had in days.

"I do," he admitted, his eyes twinkling.

Carlos' gaze dropped to your lips. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn't want to. Not anymore.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was still afraid you might run. But as you responded, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, filled with all the emotions you had both been holding back.

When you finally pulled apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "I meant every word I said," he murmured. "I'm serious about this. I want to make this work."

You took a deep breath, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now. "I'm serious too, Carlos. It scares me how much I want this, but… I want to be with you."

The smile that broke across Carlos' face was radiant. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again.

"You're still my little bitch after all," you couldn't help but laugh as you parted.

"When are you going to change that to something more romantic, hmm?" Carlos rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. "'Mi amor,' perhaps? Or 'cariño'?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I failed Spanish in high school?" you rolled your eyes back at him. "And I thought you liked it when I called you that. Didn't you say once that it turned you on?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement," he said with a grin. "But how about this—you can call me your 'little bitch' if you want, but I get to call you my girlfriend. Deal?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the word 'girlfriend.' It should have scared you, but instead, it filled you with warmth.

"Deal," you agreed, pulling him in for another kiss.

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liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 402,726 others

ynpiastri fitting ����

view all 4,688 comments

username1 OMGGGG

username2 ICONIC

alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂

username3 WHOS THE BOYFRIENDDDD

logansargeant Is this who I think it is? 👀

↳ ynpiastri little bitches everywhere

username4 THATS CARLOS CONFIRMED

username5 CARLOSYN PAINZ 😩

landonorris BITCH FINALLY

↳ username1 i bet lando manifested this

nicolepiastri We been knew since Singapore 2023, by the way

↳ ynpiastri MUM 😩

↳ username2 I LOVE YOU NICOLE PIASTRI

carlossainz55 ❤️

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The Hungarian Grand Prix had been a whirlwind of emotions. The entire paddock was still buzzing with excitement over Oscar's maiden Formula 1 victory.

Your little brother had driven the race of his life, leading most of the laps to take the checkered flag. The memory of him standing on the top step of the podium, eyes glistening with tears of joy as the Australian national anthem played, was one you'd cherish forever. The pride you felt was indescribable - your baby brother, the kid you'd watched grow up and chase his dreams, was now a Grand Prix winner.

It had been three blissful weeks since you and Carlos had officially become a couple. After your heartfelt conversation at your apartment, you had both taken the time to navigate this new phase of your relationship, and it had been everything you could have hoped for.

Telling your close friends and family was the easy part. Lando practically squealed with delight, Oscar and Carlos had a nice chat, and of course, Nicole Piastri, a fan of dragging her own kids, reminded everyone that you failed Spanish in high school multiple times, so Carlos had to make sure to constantly translate for you. The rest of the paddock had quickly caught on, and soon, Carlos Sainz and the eldest Piastri were the talk of the town.

But you didn't mind the attention. Being with Carlos felt so natural and right.

Now, as you sat in the airport waiting for your delayed flight to Monaco, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Sure, the hours-long delay was less than ideal, but you were surrounded by the people you cared about most, celebrating Oscar's first win with good old fasioned airport McDonalds.

"I can't believe Oscar got his first win," Lando exclaimed, already halfway through a Big Mac. "That's crazy, mate."

"I know, I still can't believe it," Oscar beamed, "It hasn't really sunk in yet."

You reached over to give your brother's arm an affectionate squeeze. "I'm so proud of you, Osc. You deserve it."

"Thanks, sister. Couldn't have done it without your support all these years."

"Oh, come on," you teased, "I didn't drive that car. That was all you out there."

"Yeah, but you've always been there," Oscar insisted, his voice softening. "Through the karting days, the junior formulas, all of it. It means a lot."

You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by your brother's words. You pulled Oscar into a tight hug, blinking back tears of pride and joy. "You're my little brother, Osc. I'll always be in your corner, no matter what."

Oscar returned the embrace, squeezing you tightly. "I know, YN. And I couldn't ask for a better cheerleader."

When you finally pulled apart, you noticed the others watching with fond smiles.

Across the lounge, Carlos was engaged in an animated conversation with Lando, their voices a low hum in the background. You couldn't help but watch him, admiring the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the graceful movement of his hands as he gesticulated. Even in casual clothes, hair slightly mussed from the long day, he took your breath away.

As if sensing your gaze, Carlos looked up, his eyes meeting yours. The soft smile that spread across his face sent a flutter through your chest. You patted the empty spot next to you on the couch, a silent invitation. He nodded, excusing himself from his conversation with Lando, which couldn't help but tease about the two of you being codependent now.

"Missing me already, mi amor?" Carlos teased as he approached.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't keep the smile off your face. "Don't flatter yourself, Sainz. I just didn't want you to strain your neck looking over here every five seconds."

Carlos chuckled as he sat down next to you, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Ah, but how can I resist when the view is so beautiful?"

You snuggled into his side, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. "Smooth talker," you murmured, but there was no bite to your words.

"Only for you, hermosa," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching as the sun began to set through the large windows. The quiet was occasionally punctuated by laughter from where Oscar, Alex, and Lando were playing some sort of card game.

"How are you feeling?" you asked Carlos softly, noticing the slight droop to his shoulders.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Tired," he admitted. "It's been a long few weeks. But happy," he added, squeezing you gently. "Very happy."

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I'm glad. You drove amazingly this weekend, you know."

"Thank you," Carlos leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. "It means a lot coming from you."

Carlos let out a contented sigh, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested on his cheek. "I can't wait for the summer break, you know?" he murmured. "Just you and me, in Mallorca. No distractions, no obligations..." he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm, his gaze holding yours. "I've been looking forward to it for weeks. Getting you all to myself, finally."

"That sounds perfect," you sighed happily. "Though I hope your plans also include plenty of time for just lounging around and doing absolutely nothing."

"Of course, whatever you want, hermosa."

"Whatever I want, huh?" you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye. "That's a dangerous offer, Sainz."

"I think I can handle whatever you throw at me, Piastri," he grinned, leaning in closer.

You were about to reply when a french fry hit you squarely on the forehead. You turned to see Oscar looking at you with mock disgust.

"Seriously, you two? We're right here," he groaned.

"Oh, like you and Lily aren't just as bad," you retorted, throwing the fry back at him.

Oscar caught it mid-air, popping it into his mouth with a grin. "At least we have the decency to be gross in private."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to see you all lovey-dovey," Lando chimed in.

"Shut up, Lando," you rolled your eyes, "I seem to recall you being the one who was pushing for this whole thing in the first place."

"Yeah, well," Lando shrugged, "I'm starting to think I preferred it when Carlos thought you were insufferable and you called him a 'little bitch'."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, glancing over at Carlos and pecking his cheek. "Oh, I still do."

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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri 403,664 others

ynpiastri my little brother, the grand prix winner 🥺

oscar, watching you stand on that top step today brought tears to my eyes. i still remember the day you left for boarding school to chase your racing dreams. i felt like i was losing my little brother, and a piece of my heart went with you.

but seeing you now, living your dream and achieving what so many thought impossible, all i can feel is an overwhelming sense of pride. you've grown into an incredible man and driver, but you'll always be that kid who used to steal my snacks and beg me to play race cars with him.

your journey hasn't been easy, through every challenge, every setback, you kept pushing. and now, here you are, a grand prix winner, battling with the best (and occasionally a spaniard little bitch 😩)

you've grown so much, but some things never change. like how we're celebrating this monumental victory - stuck in an airport, chowing down on mcdonald's.

i love you so much, little bro ❤️

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris, carlossainz55, landonorris, alex_albon

view all 4,648 comments

username1 im SOBBING this is so beautiful

username2 THE PIASTRI SIBLINGS ARE JUST TOO PURE

mclaren 🧡

nicolepiastri 🥲🥲🥲

username3 AHHH THE PICTURE OF HER AND CARLOS IN THE PLANE I CANT

username4 this is too pure as an eldest daughter im sobbing

username5 PAINZ CONFIRMED

carlossainz55 ❤️

↳ username1 he only comments hearts come on bro

username6 THE LANDOSCAR PIC🥺

oscarpiastri Sis, you've got me tearing up in the middle of this crowded airport. Your support has been the backbone of my journey, and I couldn't have done this without you. You've worn so many hats - cheerleader, mentor, occasional bodyguard (those Twitter wars were something else 😂 but look at you and Carlos now). But most importantly, you've been my rock. When Mum and Dad couldn't be there because of work, you stepped up. You've been my third parent in every way that counts. So yeah, we might be stuck in an airport eating McDonald's right now, but I wouldn't want to share this moment with anyone else. You're the best sister and 'bonus parent' a guy could ask for.

↳ ynpiastri bitch stop it my therapist has enough issues to deal with (ILYSM)

↳ username1 SHES SO REAL

↳ username2 OSCAR CONFIRMING CARLOS-YN

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TWITTER

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The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in oranges, pinks, and purples. The water was gently hitting the side of the yacht, making a calming sound. This peaceful feeling matched the quiet mood around you and Carlos.

You were sprawled out on the deck, lounging on plush cushions as the warm Mallorcan breeze caressed your skin. Carlos lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"You're staring," you murmured, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Carlos didn't even try to deny it. "How can I not?" he replied, his voice low and husky. "You're breathtaking, mi amor."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, still not entirely used to the way Carlos could make you feel with just a few words. "Flatterer," you teased, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly in contentment. When he opened them again, the look he gave you was filled with such warmth and adoration that it made your heart skip a beat.

"It's not flattery if it's true," Carlos insisted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

You couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you as his lips trailed up your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Carlos," you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through you. "Yes, hermosa?"

"Kiss me," you demanded softly, tugging him closer.

Carlos was more than happy to oblige, capturing your lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. You lost yourself in the sensation, in the taste of him, in the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his accent thicker than usual.

"Good. That's the plan," you grinned

Carlos groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "You'll be the death of me, Piastri."

"But what a way to go," you quipped, running your hands down his back.

He chuckled against your skin, the sound sending pleasant vibrations through you. "Indeed."

As Carlos lifted his head to look at you again, something caught your eye over his shoulder. Squinting slightly, you realized what it was and couldn't help but let out a small sigh.

"What is it?" Carlos asked, noticing the change in your expression.

"Don't look now, but we've got company," you said, nodding slightly towards the distance. "Paparazzi, about a hundred meters out."

Carlos groaned, dropping his head back to your shoulder. "Can't we have one moment of peace?"

You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair. "Hey, it's okay. We knew this was part of the deal."

"I know. I just… I want to keep you all to myself sometimes."

The possessiveness in his tone sent a thrill through you. "Well," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye, "if they're going to intrude on our privacy anyway, we might as well give them something to see."

Before Carlos could react, you pulled him down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, and decidedly more public-friendly than your previous ones. When you pulled back, Carlos looked slightly dazed.

"Dios mio, your family is going to see those," he shook his head, "What will Nicole Piastri think of me? Oscar will run me off the track, too."

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Oh, please. My mum adores you, and you know it. As for Oscar, well… he'll just have to get used to it," you shrugged, "He was the one who encouraged this to happen anyway."

Carlos only shook his head with a smile, pulling you in for another kiss, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling his skin against yours.

When you finally broke apart, Carlos's eyes were soft, "Te quiero," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with emotion.

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "I failed Spanish, remember?" you teased gently, your heart racing in your chest.

Carlos's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back. "I think you know what that means," he replied, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I love you too, you little bitch."

Carlos let out a dramatic groan, but the affection in his expression was unmistakable. "I should have known the sappiness wouldn't last."

"Hey, you signed up for this," you teased, poking him playfully in the chest. "Might as well accept it."

Pulling you close, Carlos pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Gladly, mi amor. Gladly."

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TWITTER

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liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 476,458 others

ynpiastri he’s still a little bitch 😚

tagged: carlossainz55

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username1 AHHHH

username2 THIS HARD LAUCH

alexandrasaintmleux love to see you happy my girl 🥰

lilyzneimer 💓💓

username3 THIS is enemies to lovers

username4 i still can’t believe they’re together 😭 THEY HATED EACH OTHER

georgerussell63 WELL FINALLY

↳ alex_albon For real

↳ username1 THE ENTIRE GRID JUST KNEW

↳ ynpiastri why are all of you so damn nosy

↳ pierregasly Or you and Carlos were too obvious

↳ charles_leclerc 😂😂😂😂😂

oscarpiastri Yup, this is weird

↳ username1 OSCARRRR

oscarpiastri However, I’m really happy for you sister ❤️

↳ ynpiastri ily little indirect matchmaker

carlossainz55 You’ll never stop calling me that, won’t you hermosa?

↳ ynpiastri NEVERRR MY LITTLE BITCH FOR LIFE

[kookiestarlight]

Lines of fate: 01 | jjk

➵ pairing: tattooist!jungkook x f. reader

➵ genre: apocalypse au, exes to lovers (?) dad!jungkook, survival, angst, smut

➵ summary: the last thing Jungkook ever imagined was an outbreak that turned the dead into the living. But even more unexpected is seeing you—an ex he’s known nothing about in the past four years—with a small child who bears a striking resemblance to himself. As Jungkook grapples with the shock and the city spirals into chaos, the two of you are thrust back together, forced to confront unresolved feelings, long-buried truths, and the horrors of the deadly virus taking over.

➵ word count: 11.9k

➵ warnings: swearing (jk says fuck way too much), graphic depictions of violence and death, blood and gore, seizures, virus and zombies ofc, brief mentions of alcohol consumption.

➵ series masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!! <3 sorry this was postponed way longer than expected, all I can say is: life :,) anyway!! posting my writing again after years on hiatus definitely feels nerve wracking lol. this idea has been in my wips for literally years so I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with you all!! I would greatly appreciate your feedback and thoughts as it is something quite different from anything I usually write (it’s definitely been a kick in the ass) it’ll also really help me stay motivated to continue writing it. thank you for all the hype and excitement you showed for this fic before it was even released cause like hello?? that’s crazy to me😭 thanks for always showing my stories love and support🫶🏻 I’ve taken inspiration from all the zombie movies and videogames I’ve ever seen and played over the years (thanks dad). I should also mention, I had a very thorough plot for this planned out and it kinda went to shit in the process of writing so we’re kind of going off vibes only and 20% of the plot I had originally planned so yeah, bare with me🤪 I also want to say, updates on this will most likely be slow, but I will try my best to get them out as fast I can for you🙏 now that that’s over, I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am enjoying writing it!! this chapter is just the very beginning <33

The autumn sun filters through the large window with an amber glow as you take a slow sip of your coffee, the warm bitterness spreading in your chest as you attempt to chase some kind of comfort. But the loud hum of the city just outside and the muffled chatter of the bustling cafe are very much a grounding reminder of where you are — and where you really wish you weren't.

Your gaze travels down to your daughter sitting on the booth beside you, her little legs swinging off the seat contentedly as she picks away at her blueberry muffin. Completely oblivious to your ongoing little inner torment. Her big eyes flicker up to meet yours, brimming with glee. Brushing a crumb off her cheek, you force a little smile for her. 

Like a dull sting under your skin, you feel how little teeth of guilt gnaw away at you, not only because it’s been almost impossible to offer her a genuine smile in the past two days since you stepped foot in this dammed place, but because you simply wish you could share the same excitement as she does, and perhaps…feel more positive about this whole situation. For her.

But all you’ve been able to feel is guilt.

An incessant amount of it. Guilt and fear. Slowly brewing up inside you like some sort of poison that has had you feeling a little sick to your stomach.

”You’re spiraling again.” Hoseok pulls you out of your absentminded state, studying you over the rim of his half finished iced americano.

You blink. You often tend to forget how well he’s capable of reading you. Though you suppose that’s a skill acquired with nearly twenty years of friendship, and an unavoidable consequence of growing up constantly together, practically like siblings. 

Hoseok has been the only constant in your life for as long as you can remember, like a brother to you — conjoined at the hip as his mother always used to joke. It all began when you moved next door. With your parents always working late and often times far away from home, Hoseok's home slowly became your second one — the place you spent most of your childhood and adolescence and formed some of your fondest memories. A place where you were never alone.

You do suppose it’s no surprise the years and the unbreakable bond you’ve formed have given you exceptional abilities to know when something is off with just a simple glance. But it's never less surprising.

The corners of your mouth tug upwards into a tiny smile at his words, brows pinched in a pathetic attempt to hide your truth. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re thinking too much,” he stirs the ice in his drink with the straw, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “Which if I may remind you, is one of your fatal flaws.”

You scoff, only slightly offended as you watch him take a slow sip. Pushing your sunglasses further up your head as you lean back. “Thinking too much is not my fatal flaw.” 

He’s may very likely be right about that, but of course, you’d never actually admit it.

Hoseok snorts, clearly unconvinced. His voice just above a whisper when he murmurs, “Right. Sorry. It’s definitely lying.”

Before you can argue, he leans forward to accept some crumbs of muffin Jieun is so eagerly offering him. The sight tugs at something deep in your chest, watching his expression soften to mush as he thanks her with that brightest, tender smile he only ever uses for her before he brings his attention back to you. 

“If it weren’t your fatal flaw, you’d actually be enjoying that overpriced coffee and oh—, maybe being reunited with your best friend again. I haven’t even seen you in like three months.” He shakes his head in utter disappointment, sitting back with a dramatic sigh.

“Hobi, I am so thrilled to be reunited with you, truly.” You roll your eyes ever so slightly and place a hand on your heart rather sarcastically as you say it, but deep down you hope he knows you’re only half joking. No one has done for you more than what hoseok has in the time you’ve known him.

You suppose all the change has got you in a rather sentimental state. But you bury it away. Hoseok deserves a nice time out with a friend for once too. He’s seen enough of your tears.

“Yeah?” he leans in, studying you with mock concern. Though not falling for it even a bit. "That's your thrilled face? You sure about that?” You almost laugh in response, but then, he shifts, looking more serious than just seconds ago. “You know,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “For someone who finally landed a nice new job and has everything working out, you don’t look all that thrilled to me, actually. That’s all.”

You press your lips together and glance down at your coffee, suddenly the truth a little too hard to face. You should be happy. He’s right. Because things really are starting to look up for you again. Everything you’ve spent the last few months wishing for has finally become a reality. And yet, you can’t shake the fact that there’s a deep buried sense of dread that seems to be getting in the way of that, a familiar fear that's been present for years, but only intensified since you stepped foot in Seoul again. 

Hoseok follows your gaze, watching you carefully, then nudges your foot under the table gently. “Come on.” He murmurs softly, eyebrows raised gently. “What is it?”

You suppose your real fatal flaw is your emotions showing up as flashy neon subtitles over your head apparently, or the fact you are simply terrible at hiding them, because Hoseok doesn't budge. He sees right through your little facade — always has. And as much as you know he is a great listener and that he genuinely cares to hear it all, always ready to give you a helping hand in any way he possibly can, you just don’t want to sound ungrateful. Not when anyone else in your position would be feeling over the moon right now.

Besides, you’ve never liked burdening him, or anyone for that matter. Never wanted to add more weight to the heavy things he already carries himself. He deals with so much of that at work already. So many problems significantly worse than your own worries. So you simply shake your head, putting on a small smile once again in hopes to appease him.

“I’m alright, Hobi. It's just…strange. Being back here. Overwhelming, I guess,” you admit, though only to half of the truth. “It’s so calm on the island. I suppose I got used to it. Everything here is just so intense. But that's all.” You cross your arms on the table as you gaze out at the busy streets. Hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. Though in truth, this whole things isn't just strange. It’s all actually fucking terrifying.

In many ways it seemed like nothing here had changed since the day you left four years ago. The cityscape is as bustling as you remember – a stark contrast to the quietude and stillness of Jeju, where you had been building your new life up until now. People in suits rush back and forth and push into each other with no care, everything is always shadowed by a maze of buildings that don't seem to have an end. Cars weave through traffic like they want to crash into each other, and neon signs and billboards still flicker blindingly even in the daytime. 

The fact that everything remains the same, terrifies you. The rush, the stress, the chaos. That constant hustle and bustle that seems suffocating. It wasn't the reason why you left. but it was certainly a factor that made your life here something you wanted to escape from. It feels like stepping back into the life you thought you’d left behind for good. Like stepping onto a moving treadmill, when you no longer know how to run. Not sure if you’ll ever find your place here again.

Hobi hums in understanding, and the warmth in the familiarity of his smile helps lessen the knot that's been forming in your stomach all morning. And though you've only let out a tiny portion of what's on your mind, you already feel like you can breathe with more ease.

Sometimes, it’s not so bad that he can see right through you. Because you also tend to forget he’s the only one that truly gets you, understands you when even you struggle to understand yourself, and has never once been one to judge you, no matter how small or ridiculous it may be.

“Yeah, I get it. It can be overwhelming.” He nods slowly, letting the words settle. “But if I were you, I’d be damn proud of myself.” His expression is calm and his words full of sincerity as he speaks. “You did what you had to do, and now you’re doing it again. Making more big changes. Really tough decisions, and I know that’s not easy.” He pauses. “But you've always made it after all. This time won't be different. Besides, think about this, we’re close to each other now. I’ll be here for anything you guys need, you know that.”

Your heart softens at his comforting words, and the reassurance feels like it melts some of the tension off your shoulders. And for just a split second you feel that roar of confidence, thinking about everything you've accomplished, but it's not lasting, and deflates with the weight of your heavier thoughts.

You want to believe what he says — you really do. For your daughter's sake. Because this is finally your chance to start over and build something better. To give Jieun the life she deserves, something stable, a chance to thrive in a place full of new opportunities. 

A fresh start. 

After all, isn't that all you've ever been chasing?

You don’t want to allow your fears and the past to come in the way of that. But it's never so simple. At least, definitely not here — definitely not for you.

Because the truth is, being in Seoul again feels like roaming a haunted city. Tainted and plagued by shadows from the past, by who you used to be, and everything and everyone you left behind all those years ago when you ran and didn’t dare to look back. Being here now, you can’t shake the feeling — the apprehension and fear that everything you once left behind is lurking around the corner, ready to jump out and haunt you, making everything you've finally built up crumble to pieces once again. This place just gives you an indescribable feeling of…dread. Eeriness even. Enough for it to linger gut deep with a painful sense of discomfort that hasn’t eased since the day you arrived. As if you can never truly let your guard down.

But after all, it was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, even if it meant returning to the city you swore you’d never step foot in again. The offer came at just the right moment, a lifeline after months of uncertainty and dead-ends. After losing your job, and endless nights crying yourself to sleep with the heavy burden of becoming a failure of a mother and not knowing how to make ends meet. You practically cried with joy the morning you finally got the call, and ignored the pit that formed in your stomach when you heard where it required you to move to. It had felt like you were about to reach the peak of a mountain, only to drop all the way back down to the bottom. But it was a steady paycheck, and a chance to finally give Jieun some stability. It wasn’t glamorous or grand — a position in a small marketing firm. But it was enough to rebuild. The breakthrough you so badly needed to start over and secure a future for your little girl. 

How could you possibly turn it down?

That was your biggest and only goal in life.

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for her. So you knew in that very instant you had to take it. Even if it meant returning to the place that broke you beyond repair. So you packed up your life and now, here you are. Back where you never thought you’d be. So far from the tranquility of the home you had made for yourself in a secluded tiny seaside town four years ago. Where you were happy. Where you didn't live in constant fear.

“I know this is what I need right now,” you speak softly, more to yourself than anything. You reach out, gently brushing your fingers through Jieun's baby soft hair, watching as she focuses intently on her muffin, completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. “I just don’t want to mess anything up…the job, you know, our new life here. I want to get this right. I don’t want anything, getting in the way of that.” You swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee in front of you, and Hoseok knows exactly what you mean by that. You hesitate, letting out a quiet breath before speaking again. “I know there's so many opportunities for us here but…I was happy in Jeju. Jieun was happy.”

Hoseok nods, slow and understanding. “I know you were. A city like this takes some adapting to, you know that.” He reaches out and gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “but give it time. You’ll settle right back in.” He says warmly, reassuring. You return a tiny smile, more genuine this time.

“Seriously though. Change is good. New home, new job, meeting new people…maybe even someone special…” he adds.

You scoff, eyes widening, only half incredulous at how fast he swerved the topic there. So typical of him. 

“Yeah no, thanks. You can stop it right there.” You shake your head.

“What?” Hobi leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he waggles his eyebrows, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, completely unbothered despite your clear opposition. “I'm just saying,” he adds in, raising his hands in mock innocence, though he feels like your glare could actually kill him. “You’re young. You’re no longer in that tiny ass town full of old drunk married cheating men. Everyone deserves a little fun. It wouldn't kill you to-”

“Hobi,” you sigh, cringing internally at the memories of disastrous dates you told him all about over the phone. You throw a pointed look in his direction, but Hoseok just chuckles. “I’m done with all that. Seriously.”

“Come on,” he presses.

“No. No way. I told you.” You interject, tone firm, not even allowing space for the idea. “I’m a single mother, Hobi. That’s been off the cards for years. I have different priorities now.” You straighten in your seat, making a point to scoop Jieun's hair back and out of her drink. These are your priorities now.

Hoseok raises a brow, watching you carefully, but there's no judgment in his expression now — just silent understanding. He leans back in his chair again, smile dying down, tapping his fingers absently against his iced americano before his gaze drifts over to your little girl. His expression softens, fondness flowing in his eyes.

“I know,” he says after a moment, his tone a tad more gentle. “But I’m just saying…you’re allowed to let yourself be happy again, you know. You deserve that.”

Something uncomfortable twists in your insides. Happy. What a simple word, but what a complex thing. 

You lift your eyes to meet his, the sincerity in his gaze cutting right through. You could argue, explain that you don't agree, that romance is a door locked for good. Not only out of fear, but out of necessity. It’s no longer just about you. You don’t have the luxury of reckless choices or fleeting little flings like you did before.

There's simply to much buried history to let anyone new into your life.

And deep down, you don't believe you deserve it. But you don’t voice any of that. There's no need to explain. Hoseok knows your history better than anyone, the pain etched deep into you, the one you carry like a scar beneath your skin. He knows Jieun's father plays a big role in that, even though you don’t dare to mention him and haven’t in years. He knows his existence and every memory he’s involved in is something you merely refuse to acknowledge. And though Hoseok wants nothing more than for you to thrive, he knows better than to press on the matter. 

Still, he hesitates before speaking quietly. “I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen him again.”

He says it gently, in hopes the information is comforting to you, to maybe put you at ease, but instead it feels like a small jab between your ribs. You stiffen, for just a second. You feel your heart begin to race a tiny bit faster. And you wonder when the mention of him will stop having this goddamn effect on you.

Hoseok notices, and regret quickly flickers across his face. He realizes he might have overstepped, treading on thin ice that he fears may slowly be cracking beneath him.

But it doesn't. You take a deep breath, and you simply nod. It’s okay. You know you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, who’s to say he even still lives here? The thought should be reassuring, bring you some sort of peace, be relieving. But it isn’t. Because the thought of ever seeing him again makes your palms sweat, and your chest a little tight.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. “You’re right. Who knows.”

You don't mention how many late nights you've stayed up, haunted with thoughts like if ever did make it out of here. If he ever made it to the states and accomplished all those things he wanted. If he's perhaps settled down and started a family or if he's stuck right where he used to be, how he used to be. You don't mention that sometimes, you mind even attacks you with the intrusive thought of if he’s even still alive.

You don't dare mention any of it.

Hoseok exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just-” He pauses, voice lowering as he checks Jieun to make sure she's not listening, not that she would know or understand, but you appreciate that he does. “I know we’re not meant to talk about him–“

You push past it, giving a small dismissive shake of the head. Instead, you plaster on a small practiced smile, turning to glance down at the little girl beside you as well. It isn't something easy to avoid. But for the past four years, somehow, you’ve managed it. 

“Anyway. I am happy,” you say, voice softer now, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I get all the love I need from my little lovebug right here, don’t I?”

The little lovebug in question remains completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. Instead, her wide eyes are fixated on something outside, her eyes big and small fingers suddenly clutching your sleeve.

“Mommy, look!” She gasps, tugging desperately for your attention, she calls you again, tearing you away from your conversation. “The birdy!”

You follow her gaze, a small black bird just on the other side of the glass, and the simplicity of her joy softens you, eases the heaviness for a second. It really doesn't take much to amuse a child, and you’re glad to see at least someone enjoying her time here so far. “I see, baby.”

You smile with her, that is until, just a moment later, you notice… the small bird is no longer pecking at crumbs on the pavement. It’s… acting rather strangely. Its head twitches sharply to the side, body jerking with twitchy erratic movements as it flaps it’s wings like crazy, then suddenly, it freezes, before twitchting again.

Your brows furrow, unable to take your eyes off it. What the hell? Something about it sends a strange chill through you, suddenly understanding what had Jieun so surprised.

“Oh, I think that poor bird might have gone a little coo coo.” Hoseok turns his head to take a look himself, and you both exchange a puzzled glance, to which Hobi just shrugs with a mildly disgusted expression.

“What, you know I hate birds.” he whispers, shrugging like someone just walked over his grave, and you swat his arm and shush him, suppressing a laugh. You wouldn't want your sweet animal loving daughter hearing that. 

“Isn't that so weird. I’ve never seen one do that before.” You say, and hoseok tilts his head, staring at it with a mildly grossed out frown. “Probably has some kind of parasite or something. Not sure.”

“It’s gonna die?” she looks up at hobi, her little face full of worry. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.

“Not necessarily, bub. I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Hobi answers, trying to be tactful, however, Jieun doesn’t look convinced, but she nods sadly and resumes eating spoonfuls of her hot chocolate that's long gone cold. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fine baby.” You kiss the top of her head, as you glance out the window once again, only to see it’s no longer there. 

“So odd.” You shake your head, taking another sip of your coffee, and Hoseok nods and lets out a low hum, taking another sip himself.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Are you actually gonna start unpacking, or are you going to let those suitcases rot in your living room for another week?” He taunts.

You chuckle. “I’ll unpack eventually. This little girl and I have a long list of errands left to do today.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you an unconvinced look, then looks at Jieun with a dramatic pout, cooing. “My poor little monkey. Prisoner to moms to do list. I remember that feeling.”

She giggles, and you speak up. “Shhh, she loves errands with mommy, don't you-”

Suddenly, a loud crash sound from the back of the café, startling you all.

The sharp clatter of metal rings out and you hear a young worker gasp, emerging hastily from behind the counter as the previous muffle of conversation begins to die down. Heads immediately start turning towards the scene unfolding before them. 

“What the hell?” you murmur as you hastily turn around yourself, pulse spiked from the jump.

Near the back of the cafe, a chair is knocked to the ground, a mans body hunched over on the floor, shaking and convulsing with an unnatural force that seems to take over him completely. The man sitting beside him instantly scrambles to the floor next to him, shaking his shoulders in a failed attempt to break him out of whatever is happening as he calls out for help in a trembling voice, panicked.

“Oh my god, Hobi-” You gasp and your stomach twists as you take in what is occurring, grip instinctively tightening around your daughter's hand, turning her away from the scene. One of the members of staff pulls out her phone, announcing that she will call an ambulance right away, the man on the floor now surrounded by two other workers that instantly made their way over to him.

Hoseok takes just a few seconds to register what’s going on. “Shit.” He mutters, “A seizure.”

Instantly, he’s up on his feet, leaving you and Jieun behind and rushes over to help, but before he can reach the man on the floor, a young worker steps in front of him, his hands raised. 

“An ambulance is on the way!” he blurts out, eyes darting between the unconscious man and the crowd gathering around him, Hoseok noticing his eyes full of panic. “Please, just give him space.”

“It's alright. I’m a nurse,” Hoseok urges, trying to step around him. “Please, let me-”

This time, there’s no resistance — only relief in the young man's panicked eyes as he steps aside, allowing Hoseok through to where the man is convulsing on the floor.

Jesus christ. On his one day off. He thinks internally.

Without hesitation, Hoseok drops to one knee. “Don’t hold him down,” he instructs the mans friend beside him as he proceeds to unbutton the first few buttons of the man's shirt to facilitate his breathing. He presses his fingers to his wrist as best as he can, taking a pulse. He attempts to roll him on his side, but he seizes with too much force, limbs jerking far too erratically for him to do so. 

“Has he ever had seizures before? Is he epileptic?” Hoseok asks without tearing his eyes away from the man.

The man's friend just shakes his head. “No…no- he was fine right before.”

“Ambulance is just two minutes away,” the barista yells, phone still pressed to her ear. Hoseok nods but keeps his focus on the young man. Face contorted in concertation as he's checking his pulse once again before tilting his head to ensure he’s breathing properly.

You sit speechless few tables away, watching the scene unfold, your heart erratic in your chest. But feeling so much relief Hoseok was here. Jieun's small hand holds yours tightly, grip strong. She shifts in her seat, trying to peek over the booth to the commotion, but you gently pull her in beside you. Pulling her close, you brush a soothing hand over her hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” your whisper. “That man wasn’t feeling very well. But uncle hobi is helping him. Isn’t that so good? He’s really good at helping people remember. It's okay.”

Jien nods slowly, though her brows are still drawn together in concern. She doesn’t fully understand, but she doesn’t doubt your word, or her uncle's abilities.

Across the large space, Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes watching carefully as the man's convulsions finally begin to slow, the violent jerking finally seeming to ease up. But just as the worst seems to have passed…Hoseok stiffens. 

There’s a concerning, deep purplish hue creeping up the man’s neckline, peeking through the gap of his unbuttoned white shirt. Dark veins snaking against his pale skin, spreading like ink through thin cracks. Hoseok swallows hard, alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind. 

That…that doesn’t look right. His medical knowledge kicks in, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind, digging for the most fitting answer. Is it cyanosis? an undiagnosed vascular disease? Possibly an infected wound? blunt trauma?

His mind dashing for answers in an instant, but before he can take a better look and unbutton his shirt completely, after what feels like a lifetime, the piercing wail of sirens cuts right through his thoughts, and just moments after, paramedics burst into the café, pushing past the gathered crowd near the Hoseok and the patient on the floor. Hoseok quickly regains focus, stepping back to allow them to take over. 

“He had a seizure. Approximately a minute long. His breathing is stable but—“ He hesitates for a second, then presses on, giving them a brief diagnosis and rundown. “I think he may have another underlying condition. Possible hypoxia.”

The paramedic beside him nods, wasting no time as they swiftly load him onto a stretcher. He stands back, his jaw tight, fingertips tingling with the urge to do more, watching as they wheel him out through the entrance. The murmurs of the coffee shop begin to start up again, confused and concerned looks turning left and right, but Hoseok can’t shake all the questions in his mind. 

He just hopes the guy turns out to be okay. The same way it goes with every patient he sees. You have to do your part and let go. That's how it works. but this time, he's left with a weird feeling bubbling inside.

After a few minutes, Hoseok turns back to your table. The moment his eyes meet yours, you’re already standing and asking, “God, is everything okay? He’s okay, right?”

“It’s alright,” Hoseok reassures you, though his tone is softer than usual. “They've got it under control.”

His gaze flickers toward Jieun, who’s still clinging to you, her small face twisted in worry as she glances between the two of you. She tugs your sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mommy…what happened to the man?”

“The ambulance people will take care of him and take him to the hospital so they can help him.” You say gently. She blinks up at you, then glances toward Hoseok, as if waiting for confirmation.

Hoseok lips form a small smile, crouching slightly to be at her eye level. “Your mom is right,” he says carefully, patting her head. “Sometimes when people don’t feel well they need a little help. That’s what doctors and nurses are for Jieun. It’s okay.”

Jieun watches him for a moment, and gives him a slow understanding nod. He then straightens and exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back toward the road in front of the entrance where the ambulance is now setting off.

You nod, now feeling a weight of unease in the crowded space. It would probably be best to give them space to handle the situation, and to get some fresh air after that. So you retrieve Jieun's little pink puffer vest from off hobis chair and gently help her arms into, zipping it up snuggly to keep her warm from the afternoon chill, before taking her hand in yours.

As the three of you finally step outside, you're grateful for the crisp autumn air that lifts some of the heaviness off you. God, that was stressful. The distant sounds of the city hum around you, and life moves as if nothing happened.

“God, I hope that guy is okay.” You say quietly only for Hoseok to hear, taking your daughter's hand as you let out a slow breath. “First that weird bird and then that poor guy.”

Hoseok hums in agreement and gives a small reassuring nod, pushing his concerns aside. But you know how hard it is for him to switch off. How even when the emergency is over, his mind replays it again and again, analysing— wondering if he could have done more, if he could’ve done better. Even when he deals with stuff like this everyday, it’s never been easy.

“Jesus Christ. What's that saying, bad things always come in two’s? Three’s? ” He chuckles, letting out a huff. “I told you, there’s never an uneventful day out here.” Hobi shakes his head, forcing a smile to lift the mood. But his body still buzzes with tension. Then, in one swift movement, he scoops Jieun up, swinging her into his arms. “Now, time for ice cream?”

Jieun giggles loudly, kicking her feet excitedly at his words, all her earlier worries forgotten. “Yes!”

“Hobi, she just had a hot chocolate. Do you even have space for ice cream, Jieun?” You say, trying to sound stern, but the sight of them giggling together pulls a real smile out of you. And something inside already tells you you’re going to give in.

“She’s with uncle hobi now, there’s no rules.” He sing songs, walking ahead of you with your daughter in arms, all smiles as she squeals at his gentle tickling. The spitting image of joy if you ever saw it.

And for just a moment, you try to push away the nagging feeling that’s been pressing at the back of your mind. 

Because maybe, just maybe, this time, everything will be just fine after all.

Jungkook steadies his hand, a quiet hiss of pain getting lost in the low thrumming of the tattoo gun that fills the quiet studio, lulling him into that comforting sense of calm he knows so well. It’s a fairly big piece, he’s been here hunched over for hours now, that familiar dull ache creeping up his back, but he barely registers it. Because all that matters is the art taking form beneath his touch. 

Here, in these moments, it's when the feels most himself. Distracted, at peace, In control. Something he’s never found that easy outside of these four walls.

Every stroke, every line falls exactly where he intends it to. In a way, the rest of the world seems to fade away — no worries, just ink and skin, art coming to life. And it grants him a satisfaction nothing else can quite offer. And if there’s one thing Jungkook prides himself on, it’s his work and dedication. He built this place with steady hands and relentless effort, and he knows damn well he’s good at what he does. Confidence hasn't always been second nature to him, but time and experience have definitely sharpened him.

He leans back slightly to take in the work before him, his disheveled strands of dark hair falling over his eyes as he uses a paper towel to wipe up some excess ink from the client's forearm before glancing up. “How are we holding up?”

The young guy shifts in the chair, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Let’s just say I felt that last bit there.”

Jungkook nods, noting the slight sheen of sweat on the guy's forehead. He’s just glad he’s not a squirmer. That shit makes his job so much harder than it needs to be. 

His own body is the canvas of plenty tattoos. All colours, shapes and sizes. He's more than numb to the pain now. But he gets it.

“You’re doing really well. I won’t torture you much longer. We’re almost done with the worst part.” Pressing the pedal again, he feels the familiar vibration travel up his arm, he tongues with his lip piercing, a habit that signals his concentration. His hair is dusting over his eyes as he continues with the last bits of shading and does the final touch ups of all the smaller details. Another forty five minutes pass, broken by lighthearted conversation here and there. Though Jungkook never used to be one for making conversation before, he has long mastered the art of letting his mouth wander while his hands and precision remain steady and focused.

“Alright, and we’re done,” he wipes down the fresh ink one last time before setting the tattoo gun aside, letting out a silent exhale as he wheels back, peeling off his black gloves to grab the aftercare instruction sheet, ready to spew his usual little lecture he knows most people don’t even pay much attention to.

“Sit up slowly.” Jungkook instructs.

When the guy finally stands, he marvels at his tattoo in the mirror. Jungkook feels a flicker of pride swell in his chest. No matter how many times he does this, seeing the completed, polished work and his client's expressions of amazement never gets old. “Looks sick man. Better than I imagined.” He beams, twisting his arm under the light, his smile spreading all across his face.

“Good choice with the design.” Jungkook replies with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He then places the protective film, gives him a quick rundown of the aftercare and hands him the sheet. “Take care of it. Follow the aftercare instructions and it’ll heal nicely. And you know, any issues just come by or give me a call and I’ll check it out.”

“Will do. Thanks man, it’s perfect.”

As the last client of the day slips out with a final wave and he hears the bell over at the entrance ding, Jungkook finally feels the exhaustion set in — the kind that only comes after hours of steady concentrated work. Fuck, he really does need to work on his posture. He stretches his back, then cracks his knuckles, stretching his toned, inked arms over his head. But despite the tiredness, he feels no rush no rush to get back to his empty apartment.

He never does.

Instead, he takes his time wiping down his station, tidying all his clutter and ink in the methodical and organized way only he understands — something Yoongi always grumbles about when borrowing his space. But this is his sanctuary. He makes the rules. And yoongi may complain, but he accepts it.

When he's done cleaning up, Jungkook emerges into the entrance area of the studio, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling his hair at the nape.

Yoongi stretches in his chair behind the front counter, arms lifting above his head as he lets out as wide yawn, smacking his lips as his eyes land on the younger. “Christ, I thought you were dead in there,” he says deadpan, watching as Jungkook attempts to roll out the tension coiled in his shoulders, stifling a yawn himself. “Or are you? I genuinely can't tell.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, slumping onto the leather couch with an over dramatic sigh, throwing the back of his arm over his eyes as he lets his body sink into the plush cushion. It’s moments like this he’s really fucking glad they invested in a good sofa. He wants it to swallow him.

“Sure you can survive the schedule tomorrow? We’re fucking packed.” He says.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as his eyes dart over to Yoongi, eyeing the printed schedule in front of him as he rubs his jaw. “What? You think I can't handle it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He coughs into his fist, a rough dry sound that echoes through the quietness of the now empty studio. “I know you think you’re some kind of machine,” he gives the younger a pointed look, “but let me just remind you that you are, in fact, very much not.”

Jungkook's lips quirk. “Woah, woah. I’ll be fine. Unlike someone who sounds like they've caught the plague.” Lifting his arms from his eyes just enough to peer at Yoongi, he swings his arm as if to push him away. “Stay away from me with that. I can’t afford a day off anytime soon.”

Yoongi scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as he coughs into his fist again. “Relax, it's just the dust. Or if you’re lucky enough I've caught that shit going around. Won't be on your case anymore for at least two weeks. That's if I survive.”

The sound is muffled by his arm as Jungkook lets out a tired chuckle, but his eyes remain closed. “Now you’re just trying to get out of work tomorrow, hyung. I know your little tricks.”

“If anyone should be trying to get our work, it should be you. Admit your running on fumes.” Yoongi drops the piece of paper to the desk and crosses his arms, looking right across to Jungkook, his eyes squinting lightly.

Jungkook feels his heavy gaze, but he's not in the mood to face one of Yoongis lectures right now. He can’t exactly argue that. Because he knows Yoongi is not entirely wrong. 

He's working six days a week, morning till night, barely stopping to take a breath. Hell, it would've been the entire seven days of the week if Yoongi hadn’t raised hell the day he suggested it. Jungkook had tried to reason with him, insisting that Yoongi would still get his days off as usual, that he’d open up the studio alone on weekends and get everything sorted for the week ahead. But it was never about that, and he knew it.

Jungkook has always had a knack for picking up self-destructive tendencies. A slow brewing kind of self destruction, pushing himself way past his limits, working himself down to the bone until he can barely function. And Yoongi simply wasn't going to stand back and watch it happen all over again right in front of his eyes.

Most days, he only eats because it’s Yoongi who shoves food his way, whether he wants it or not.  Prepping meals and stashing them away in their mini fridge in the back room where Jungkook can find them, labeled with a little note in his unmistakable messy handwriting that reads “eat.”

Because behind his serious facade, Yoongi had always tried his best to care for him. 

From countless nights of dragging his black out drunk body home back in college, and many times after college as well. To picking him up from the streets at 4 am after he got into a nasty fight, bruised and bleeding and sobbing his heart out alone on an empty sidewalk. Yoongi didn’t question it back then, didn't hesitate. He never does. He just helped quietly with no second thought, allowing him to sit with his silent sobs on the car ride home. He had always been there, offering him a home when he had nowhere else to go, offering everything he had if it helped Jungkook from drowning.

It was Yoongi that had seen the potential in him and had patiently guided him to finally see it for himself, helping him build this studio from nothing — helping him build every piece of furniture, putting up every shelf, painting every wall, making sure Jungkook finally had something to call his. 

And now, despite all the hardships, he’s come further than they both could have imagined.

Yet deep down, Yoongi knows no amount of help can stop Jungkook from being who he is, not when he has it so deeply rooted in himself to self sabotage in every way he possibly can. It's simply how he’s wired. Yoongi has long accepted that some things are simply beyond his reach, and that Jungkook won’t ever fully change. And he may never admit it out loud, but somewhere in his heart, as the eldest, he’s always felt an unspoken weight of responsibility for Jungkook. That's why he tries relentlessly to guide him towards better choices.

Even though Jungkook has matured and come a long way from his troubled past and the reckless kid he used to be, he’s far from eradicating his bad habits entirely. He knows he’s working himself down to the bone. He knows it's not healthy. Unrealistic for him to sustain in the long run. But he doesn’t like himself when he’s unoccupied. 

He doesn't like the quiet.

Because when there’s silence, there’s space for his mind to make noise.

So that’s what he does. He works, works until he can exhaust himself to the point of passing out, too drained to even feel. It means no thoughts can haunt him when his head hits the pillow. And he’s okay with that.

Besides, he loves his job. That's a fact. The only thing he’s passionate about. All he’s ever found himself to be good at. He doesn’t need anything or anyone else. 

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“Fumes are still fuel,” Jungkook shoots back. He reaches behind his head to grab an old vintage manga off the small side table, flipping through the pages without really reading.

Yoongi studies him for a moment, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. He shifts in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter, zeroing in on him as if he were ready to throw out a serious scolding, like he did back when he was a kid. But his next words are nothing but gentle. “You know, if you wanna keep up with that schedule, you’re gonna need sleep. I can close up if you wanna head out first.”

Jungkooks expression falters — just a flicker. But he covers it with an exaggerated groan. It does get on his nerves ever so slightly, just slightly. What is it with everyone always underestimating him? Treating him like he's not capable of making his own decisions. But his tongue toys with his lip ring as he continues flicking through the pages, feigning nonchalance. “I’m good. I wanna sketch out a few new designs first. Got some ideas ratting around.”

Yoongi squints at him, clearly unconvinced. “You do know that old couch isn't a substitute for a bed, right? and you could just…do that at home.”

Jungkook tosses the comic aside as he shrugs, already bored of the conversation, his inked fingers drumming relentlessly against the worn red leather. “I focus better here.” Is his simple answer, but before Yoongi can speak, a loud siren cuts through their conversation, blaring jarringly as it flashes by across the street. Almost instantly another follows, and then another.

Instinctively, both of their heads turn towards the window, though it only gives view to a small glimpse of the larger front street, most of their view blocked by the building across from them, all they can see is the bright lights flashing as they rush past.

“The hell’s that about,” Yoongi mutters, straightening in his chair.

Jungkook furrows his brows, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look outside. But from what he can see, everything seems normal enough — cars passing by, people going about their night and a few students heading home from late study sessions. Nothing in particular out of the ordinary.

The studio is located on a fairly quiet smaller side street, on the outskirts of the city, just a little further from the booming heart of Seoul. It’s never as busy or chaotic here, much quieter.

“Accident, maybe?” Jungkook guesses, a tired breath slipping past his lips. It’s still Seoul after all. When is it ever completely quiet? 

Yoongi hums in agreement, but as if on cue, another set of sirens blares through the streets, overlapping with others as the noise grows, this time it’s police cars too, wailing violently and urgently before fading into the distance as they speed away. Jungkook glances at Yoongi, who meets his gaze with an equally puzzled expression.

“Must be pretty bad.” Jungkook says.

Yoongi just pulls out his phone to check the time and sighs. “Well, whatever it is, I'm not sticking around to find out.” He pushes himself to his feet, patting his back pocket to pull out his dented pack of cigarettes before reaching for his jacket draped over the back of the chair.

A slight sense of uneasiness crawls up Jungkook's spine. That was about four ambulances and three police cars if not more. That’s….that’s a lot. But he soon brushes it off. “I’ll check the news later.” He mumbles, letting his heavy body drop back against the soft cushion, with no energy or intention to move.

Yoongi tugs his jacket on, tossing him a small glance. “Well, if you’re gonna stay here, at least don’t fall asleep on that damn couch again. You drool, and it’s gross.”

Jungkook chuckles, though it's half hearted. “I won’t ruin your sacred couch, hyung. Don't you worry.”

“Good.” Yoongi deadpans, heading toward the door. He flips the neon sign to closed before turning back to Jungkook once more, his tired features softening just a touch. “Don't stay too late. Tomorrow is fucking packed and you’ll regret it when youre half dead in the morning. And don’t forget about that girl you booked in at 9.”

He presses his eyes shut for a moment, letting out a breath. The girl needed some touch ups to her tattoo but had a busy schedule and no time to visit any other day or at ay other time. So Jungkook did the favour, and offered to book her in before opening time. But fuck. He really does need to stop bending his schedule for people.

He knows he’s going to regret it.

Jungkook just waves a dismissive hand, already getting comfy on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave soon.”

Yoongi doesn't believe him, but he doesn't argue, just pulls out a cigarette from the pack and raises his hands in surrender before he pulls open the door. “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement. “Rest up, Hyung.”

The studio fades to dead silence once the door closes. Though sirens still echo faintly in the background.

Stretched out on the couch, Jungkook stares at the ceiling a little longer than necessary. His limbs feel heavy, exhaustion pressing down on him heavily. He wants to work on those sketches, he wants to push his limits a little further. But his body seems to know what's best for him. And within minutes, he’s passed out.

When Jungkook’s eyes crack open, it’s to the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windows. But it’s not rain the noise that woke him. Distant voices shout over one another, and the erratic wailing of car alarms and sirens blast in a near distance, sounding like he’s still stuck between consciousness and a dream. Jungkook blinks, then suddenly, screeching tires follow into a loud crash, something heavy and metal hitting the pavement. His heart spikes, and his body jerks up instantly before his mind can register what the hell is going on. The sudden movement makes him lightheaded, blinking as he tries to shake the disorientation fogging his mind.

Shit. How long had he been out?

He curses under his breath, his head throbbing. Did someone just fucking crash their car outside? In his dazed state his fingers fumble for his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He squints, the bright screen glaring back at him painfully in the darkness of the studio.

11:48 PM.

The first thought that comes to mind is drunk people causing a ruckus. It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Friday night. But then… he stops to listen. Are they breaking in? then his mind steers more towards the possibility of some petty street fight, or some idiots causing trouble. It’s the only conclusion his sleepy can come to.

But then, he hears it. 

Raw, panicked, screams erupting from the streets outside. It sounds close. Really close.

What the fuck? 

Jungkook feels a sickening pit form in his stomach.

Because that's definitely not the drunken shouts of a fight, not the sound of some petty fight or a car accident. It’s the kind of scream that crawls under your skin. And Jungkook knows the sounds of panic when he hears it. He feels his heart beating in his chest now, fast and strong. Something isn’t right. Before his mind can think  further, he pushes off the couch and yanks his leather jacket from the armrest, pulling it on in a swift motion, feeling a little dizzy as the room slowly begins to spin from getting up so fast. 

Behind the front counter he crouches, reaching for his motorcycle helmet. But his grip isn't steady, his palms suddenly feel a bit sweaty. The air in the room slightly suffocating.

His mind scrambles as he finally strides for the door, all he knows something is telling him he needs to get out. He’s ready to leave and check on what's happening outside, but just as his fingers brush the cold metal door handle—

A loud bang crashes into the large front window of the studio.

The impact rattles the entire front window, the glass shuddering violently as something smacks right into it with bone crushing force, causing large cracks to expand from the center like a spiderweb, blooming outwards across the glass. The helmet drops to the ground with a loud thud and Jungkook stumbles back in the darknesses, almost crashing back into the front counter as his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Jungkook freezes. His entire body completely paralyzed as he watches a thick, dark gush of red begin to trail down the ruins of the window. His eyes slowly follow it upwards and then…then he sees it.

A face, wedged between the shards of glass.

Jungkook sees the face of a man...except, it can't be. The skin is unnaturally pale, sickly white, dark veins bulging beneath the surface, tiny pieces of glass wedged everywhere into its flesh. Blood coats its entire mouth, dripping to the floor beneath — but it's the eyes… They send a shot of terror right down Jungkook's spine. 

They’re clouded and gray, almost white and eerily vacant, yet somehow, they’re locked right onto him.

Jungkook feels like he can’t take a breath, his chest tight as his eyes grow with complete shock and confusion.

Then, it moves.

Its head twitches in a slow agonized form before it seems to fully register Jungkook's figure standing right across. It cocks his head towards him completely with a grotesque sound of craking and lunges forward, slamming its hands against the glass with inhuman strength. Giving it all his power to break inside. It lets out another groan, a guttural broken sound as it reveals a row of blood stained teeth, the deep red liquid dripping from its mouth.

Jungkook swallows hard. If he moves will it move too? Will it...chase him? He feels like no oxygen is reaching his lungs, or his brain, his mind struggling to even process what he is seeing. That…that can't be real. It can’t be human. All he can do is watch as his heartbeat pounds like a hammer in his chest, louder than the sirens and screams growing outside, louder than the animalistic banging against the window.

That…thing is trying to kill him. It’s going to kill him.

It doesn’t stop. It claws at the glass, smearing the blood, desperate, mindless — growing more violent as it seems to realise its stuck. But the glass creaks more with each hit, trembling under the pressure of each movement, and Jungkook realizes it might not hold up much longer. He has no time.

Move.

He has to move.

Like a spring snapping, his body finally kicks into action. He stumbles backwards, feeling glass beneath his shoes as he tries to hold in a breath, his eyes fixed on the creature as he tries to back away with steady steps. After a beat, he sprints towards the back of the studio, running as his body pushes through the beaded curtain into the back room. 

His hands fumble frantically in his pocket — keys, keys, keys — but his hands are trembling too much to grip them. Fuck.

Jungkooks mind races with a thousand questions colliding all at once. But none of them make sense. None of them are even remotely rational.

That thing. It wasn’t human. Then what the hell was it?

Another jarring bang echoes in the studio, followed by a loud screech. But Jungkook doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have time. His only thought is to get out of here. Fast. He needs to get away from whatever the fuck that is. He needs to get to his motorcycle. He needs to get the police.

His fingers finally curl around cold metal. The keys. With a sharp inhale, he yanks opens the heavy back door leading into the tiny side alley and slams it shut behind him as he rushes out.

It’s dim, lit only by a flickering street lamp near the end, casting eerie shadows across the brick walls. The air is cool and damp, the smell of rain fresh on the damp asphalt and the sound of sirens and shouting voices in the distance become even clearer than before. But Jungkook can't see the one thing he’s looking for. His gaze darts around frantically and he feels a dreadful realization claw at his throat. 

His motorcycle is gone. The spot where it’s always parked is empty. 

Jungkook panics, his hands coming to his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As he looks around helplessly, his breath only grows more erratic. He finds no other option but to run, so he runs to the end of the alleyway, running right towards the screams and tumult, and when he reaches the end, the scene unfolding before him almost kicks him to his feet.

The once quiet street had turned into a horrifying scene. People mindlessly running away from something. But what his eyes land on almost immediately is on a young woman in the middle of street, clutching her neck with both hands, her body swaying as she chokes out for help before she drops to her knees, her body shaking. Jungkook watches in horror as someone else runs right past her, coming from the same direction, white button up shirt soaked in something dark as his features display a kind of terror he’d never witnessed before. Across the street, an older man is pulling down the storefront gates as he locks himself inside, letting two kids in high school uniforms scream and kick as they beg to be let in, screaming and crying.

“What the fuck...” the words escape involuntarily in a quiet mumble to himself, his hands coming to his head.

Jungkook blinks repeatedly, completely aghast. But he doesn’t think— just moves, bolting down the street. His thick leather boots slam against the wet pavements as he runs, his dark hair blows in the air, his skin covered in a layer of sweat as he weaves past a fallen trash can and then a body, his breath ragged as he tries not to slip on the broken glass. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins too strong to even feel his body protesting.

Rounding a corner, he nearly collides into another person, but his hands instinctively come up to push them away, almost knocking them to the ground. He doesn’t have a space in his mind to think about it or time to dwell on it. His body acting on autopilot. The more he runs, the more people seem to be running in the opposite direction. Away from something. His legs burn as he sprints faster, but coming off onto the main street of Jongno, he comes to a halt as he takes in the state of the streets, pupils blown as something terrible dawns on his expression.

The city is in shambles.

Everything.

Chaos.

Cars sit abandoned in the middle of the road, their doors flung open, some have crashed into street lamps and traffic signs, into each other at intersections, even buildings, the smoke clouding up into the dark sky. Blending with the red and blue of wailing sirens. People are everywhere. Hundreds of people are running in all different directions — some screaming, some covered in blood, some sobbing and some seemingly unmoving on the ground. Pushing and tripping against each other, running, but most don’t even know what they’re running from, simply following the crowd. 

How many more of those rabid people were there? How far had this spread? 

He wants so badly to be wrong, but something deep inside him tells him this is something big.

He stills for an instant, trying to orientate himself. He scans the street hurriedly for the best route to avoid getting stuck in a crush, to avoid more of those things…but all he sees is the panicked chaos spreading by the second. 

Jungkook feels like he’s outside of his body, like this is a dream, a nightmare he’ll wake up from any second now. He closed his eyes for a second and inwardly prays for it to be just a bad dream. But the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, and the pounding in his chest is too real. The world around him still screams, set aflame.

This can’t be real.

This…this can’t be happening.

Just a few meters away from him two figures wrestle on the ground — except one of them isn’t fighting back anymore, and the other is hunched over them, their head buried in the victim’s throat. Jungkook staggers back, his stomach lurching at the gut wrenching sounds of someone being mauled alive, bile burning the back of his throat when he watches infected pulls back, large chunks of flesh dangling from its bloody mouth, dripping crimson.

The truth slams into him, but his mind is till fighting to accept it.

People are killing people. Eating people. Except…they're not people. They’re monsters.

Jungkook scans the crowd for an escape route, desperate. After a moment, he catches sight of the least crowded street, it's right on the way to his place. He takes a sharp breath and runs, runs non stop down a dozen blocks. But as he navigates the frantic roads, he spots something as he runs past a small street. Stopping him in his tracks. He notices a tiny figure huddled up alone at the beginning of an alleyway, wearing bright pink, shoulders trembling and hands pressed over her ears as she sobs violently. 

A child, no older than three or four if Jungkook had to guess. He halts, heart pounding as he registers her small frightened face, streaked with tears. 

He should keep running, he knows he should. His body is urging him to just keep moving, his insides shaking with adrenaline. That’s not his responsibility. He hasn’t stopped for anyone. But the burning images of what he’s just witnessed flash fresh in his mind. And something deeper roots him in place. Something inside him twists, snaps almost, an unfamiliar instinct that overrides his own confusion and fear.

Ah, fuck it. 

Before his mind can catch up with what he’s doing, he rushes into the alley, approaching the child cautiously with slow steps as he gets closer. He crouches down to her level, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is gentle but hurried as he searches her face. “Where are your parents? Are you lost?”

The small girl just looks up at him with large, wet eyes and a trembling pout, her hands balled into tiny fists. She doesn’t answer, just stares, whimpering and hiccuping softly, like she’s been warned to not talk to strangers — especially not ones clothed head to toe in black, covered in tattoos and piercings like himself. He glances around, hoping to see someone rushing towards them, any sign of this child's parents so he can just hand her over and run, but there’s nothing, just the crowd at the end of the alley pushing past in frantic waves and yelling, no one stopping to even look in their direction. 

He has to do something.

“Do you…where did you see your parents last-” a loud metal bang echoes in the distance, making Jungkook and the child flinch, a heavy breath escaping him. Fuck, his mind races as he realizes she’s truly alone. The girl just sobs more and he curses under his breath, eyes pressed shut as his mind scrambles for what to do.

He can’t just leave her alone in whatever the hell this is. But what the hell is he supposed to do?

“Uh, alright,” he coughs, throat dry, and speaks softly but hurriedly, trying to mask his unease as he reaches out his hand. “Come with me. It’s not safe here. I’ll… I'll help you find your parents.”

He’ll take her home, get her out of danger and call the police. That’s what he should do. 

It’s the right thing to do.

Okay. 

He hopes she knows he’s only trying to help. God, his pulse races every second he’s standing here still. They need to move. Now. She just stares at him, uncertain, then slowly reaches out with her tiny fingers, clasping his much larger hand with a surprising grip. She must see past his intimidating exterior, or be so terrified that she’ll take up any offer of being reunited with her parents, either way, her innocence makes Jungkook's heart sting a little. He can't just leave a child out here, he has to help her before something terrible happens to her or she falls into the wrong hands. He doesn't know what the hell to do, all he knows is they have to run, run right now and get away from this, and-

Suddenly, a piercing, desperate voice breaks through the havoc of noise, loud enough to catch Jungkook's attention.

“Jieun!” 

The sound makes his entire body lock up, his heart jumping in his chest as he turns toward the voice. 

Running towards him, just feet away, eyes filled with worry and tears, he sees you.

Jungkook feels the blood drain from his face. 

For a split moment, the world seems to fall silent. The noise, the screams and chaos, the sirens — all of it blurs into a distant hum in the back of his mind. He feels like the air is knocked straight from his lungs as he slowly takes in your face, a slightly more matured version of a face he once knew every inch of, a face he’d buried away along with every memory he’d tried so hard everyday to annihilate ever since you disappeared from his life. A face he could never forget, not even after four painful years.

It can’t be.

No, no, no-

But it’s real, because there you are. Lunging forward and arms out reaching for the little girl beside him with thick tears of relief flooding from your eyes. The child lets go of Jungkook's hand instantly and her tiny feet pat across the concrete as she launches herself into your embrace, leaving him behind to watch, frozen and stone cold like a statue. 

“Mommy!” She cries.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. He thinks he's going to throw up.

He must’ve heard that incorrectly.

Mommy? That child is…

He feels like he can’t move, blood cold as he watches you crumble to your knees, gathering the little girl into your arms with a grip that looks suffocating, as if she might disappear into thin air again. Your whole frame trembles as you hold her close, relief pouring from you in loud, choked sobs, your fingers getting tangled in her wet hair as you comb though it desperately.

That’s.. your child?

���Jieun, oh my god, baby. You’re here, you’re okay,” your voice cracks with all the pain your body just underwent, whispering against her temple. “Are you hurt? You’re not hurt are you, baby?”

The last thing you remember is being in the convenience store when the chaos began. When you walked out you had no choice but to run into the crowd. How Jieun was holding your hand and in the blink of an eye, her hand slipped from yours. You turned back, screaming her name, but she was gone, just another small figure lost in the stampede of a city falling apart.

By the time you fought your way out of the crowd, Jieun was nowhere in sight. Your heart is still hammering loudly between your ribs, mind stuck on the past horrifying minutes since she disappeared from your side.

But as you finally look up… all your relief shifts, eyes darkening with shocking realisation that mirrors the expression in the man standing just feet away when you. Heart hammering in your chest as if it recognized him before your eyes do.

You blink once, twice to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Completely distraught.

If Jungkook thought he was stuck in a bad dream before, he’s certain now this is all a cruel, sick and twisted nightmare. He feels his stomach churn. The weight of clashing emotions and utter disbelief thrown over him. So many questions he can’t yet voice crashing into him like a bucket of ice cold water, making his blood run cold.

This has to be some kind of sick joke. 

All of it. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice trembles, barely a whisper, as if the sound of his name out loud might shatter you to pieces.

He’s standing in front of you, drenched from the rain, his wet dark hair hanging messily in his face — so much longer than it used to be. He has new piercings on his face, and his features have definitely matured. He looks…different, yet somehow exactly how you remember him. His big dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel your world stop. 

“Y/n?” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Wh…what are you doing here?” but there’s no anger in his voice, just confusion, and perhaps, a hint of something painful. His words hang heavy between you, getting lost in the sounds of the burning city beyond this tiny street, and you feel a paralysing weight on your chest. Your mind reeling beyond comprehension.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to say something, anything. But you feel like you’ve forgotten how to form words. So you close it again, no words come out. His eyes flicker from your face to the little girl clutching your side, and you feel a pit sinking in your stomach. God, please no.

This can’t be happening — not here, not now. 

Not like this.

You want to bolt, to run and not look back like you always do. You wish the earth would just swallow you entirely. But all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding faster in your chest, mouth dry.

You try to step around him, desperate to move forward, to escape this horror. But before you know it, his hand catches your arm. He grips you gently, but with a force that indicates he won’t let you slip away again. His touch almost makes you fall to your knees.

“Come with me.” 

Your body stiffens at his words, and you swat your arm loose of his grip. You lift Jieun into your arms instinctively, fingers curling around her small body as if the mere act of holding her can shield you from everything. From him, from all the pain, from all of this living nightmare.

“No,” you say, the word coming out broken, like your breath is caught. “I can’t go with you. I need- I need to get hobi-” 

“My apartment isn’t far,” he cuts in, not giving you space to say more. “We need to get off the streets.’’

You hesitate, watching his gaze scurry between you both again. Everything in you is telling you to just run, to put as much distance as you can between yourself and Jungkook. Willing this conversation to die before it can even begin. Before he can start asking questions you’re not ready to answer. Before you have to face things you’ve already buried deep. Before it’s too late.

You need to leave. But Jieun is shaking, clutching onto you for dear life as she whimpers against your chest, and the sounds of screams still ringing in your ears. And there’s infected everywhere. You’re stuck in the middle of a warzone, and you have no idea what to do, no idea where to go.

All you know is you need to get Jieun out of this. Away from danger.

“Have you not seen what the fuck is going on? People have gone fucking insane!” His tone grows harsher now, trying to knock some sense into you. “We need to move.”

A gut wrenching scream echoes from somewhere beyond the alley, closer than before this time. Too close. 

Jungkook swears under his breath, running a hand through his hair, torn between a storm of brewing emotions and the immediate danger closing in. His jaw tightens as he looks behind him then back to you. “Y/n, we need to go. Now.”

You shake your head violently, and you can feel hushed tears burning behind your eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t think clearly. All you can feel is Jieun trembling in your arms.

“Please-” his voice drops, raw and desperate. Almost a plea.

And don’t know when or why it happens, but the next thing you know, your feet are moving. You’re running with everything you have left in you.

Somehow, the world is ending, and you’re allowing yourself to be guided by Jungkook down streets devoured by chaos, heading to the only safe place around you. 

His home.

➵ taglist: @amatun28 @ahgasegotarmy116 @knjs95s @jeoncookiebar @badaspice @lachimolalajeon @tearykth @lovingkoalaface @jcrl99 @hellbornsworld @mortqlprojections @xumyboo @honeymeraki @justanarchiveforfics @iamnotdrunk420 @iveivory @k-p0p-4ever @jksjx @yoonberriez @lotustv @hannahmae18 @eclipsethemagic @bybyash @rjooniesdimples @minimoninini @satisfied18 @pinkpunkdynamite @jheneeko @sungiesworld27 @neuviloved @somehowukook @iohwa-com @lola75111 @hanversace @ot7even @rie-pdf @futuristicenemychaos @chl0buggy @happycheesecakedelusion @busanbby-jjk @minyoongi7016 @stellamalonesolaria @qyurryus-m @ex7stance @dchimminie

[lokissweater]

“i would never lie to you.”

{toge inumaki x f!reader}

summary: inumaki’s always coming home to you from missions coughing up mass amounts of blood and completely overdoing it while fighting curses with his cursed speech technique. and no matter how many times you tell him to be careful, he just doesn’t, arguing with him, giving him the cold shoulder, and completely unaware of the reason behind why he fights so hard when he’s out there— that reason being of course… because of you.

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, toge and reader have a lil argument but it’s more the aftermath, slight sexual mention but it’s literally once and nothing LOL, no smut!, toge thinks he’s not doing enough SNIFFF, angst with comfort, toge is DEVOTED to you, aged up characters, pet names, afab!reader.

word count: 2.3k

authors note: short n sweet one!! wanted to give you guys a break from my MLA format essays i always make y’all read LMFAOOO!! this one is SHO SOFT AHHHH :] i hope this keeps you guys fed in the meantime while i write the next one! i love you and i love you all ALWAYS MWAAHH <33

————————————————————————

toge inumaki hates it when you don’t talk to him.

as if he doesn’t do that enough already, toge absolutely despises when you both get into arguments or heated discussions and you turn a cold shoulder to him— needing space to unwind and prevent yourself from lashing out even more, to let the situation simmer down.

he understands it. believe him he does— you’re upset and angry and you need time to cool off… but toge is stubborn and needy and just doesn’t care, needing you and only you, him going absolutely crazy at the silence in your shared apartment that he was starting to hear random ringing in his ear drums.

so as he sat on the couch, eyes unblinking as they stared off into the darkness of the living room as the sun had already began to set, you upstairs locked away— he wanted nothing more than to open his mouth and let his cursed speech force you to come downstairs and talk to him.

but he didn’t, though the thought was definitely tempting, as toge vowed the day that he laid eyes on you to never ever use his cursed technique on you, even if it was harmless, an oath he wanted to carry with him until his very death bed and until he was six feet under.

his ears perked up then at the quiet sounds of the upstairs room door knob twisting and clicking open, soft padded footsteps making their way down the hall and closer to where he was, feet sticking against the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.

at the sight of you with your hair a little disheveled, your eyes so red and puffy, and an arm wrapped around yourself as you rummaged through the fridge looking for fuck knows what and not sparing a single glance at him— toge felt like a fifty pound gutting weight was resting on his chest and crushing his heart.

you had both argued about something you always seemed to circle back to almost every week. but this time, you were sick and tired and fed up, seeing as toge was never going to try and understand the situation at hand through your worried eyes.

every time toge was out for a mission, you would spend your days anxiously throwing yourself over the couch or trying to keep yourself busy with random activities like baking or scrapbooking (which you deemed later meaningless), all within the sole purpose of trying to get your mind off of your boyfriend and the recklessness he always seemed to pull while on missions, regardless of how much you begged and pleaded with him to be more careful and aware of his health.

toge inumaki had such a powerful and lethal cursed technique that frightened and astonished you all at the same time, a conflicting feeling to have when he had to leave you in the middle of the night or during the early hours of the morning to run around and fight curses… but always coming home to you warm and loving and safe.

but not right now.

not when toge had literally come home this morning with not even two steps in the door and he was already on his knees, coughing up strings and loads of crimson blood, it pooling on the floor as he had used his cursed speech to the highest degree today and had you a crying mess thinking he was dying.

and he always did that. always. today was just the worst of them all, him without a fault coming home with excruciating pain in his bruised and clawed up throat, the cough syrup medicine he usually downed like water having absolutely no effect anymore as you scrambled around every time trying to find a solution, toge brushing off your distressed and frightened rambling as if his health wasn’t a big deal, and as if how much it affected you wasn’t a big deal either.

upon you closing the fridge, toge slowly stood from the couch and carefully walked over to you, his throat still in pieces but his mind lurching and guilty over how upset you were at him.

he slowly raised a gentle hand and placed it on your shoulder, you shaking your head somberly in response— your back to him.

“i don’t wanna talk right now toge i’m sorry…” you mumbled, rubbing over your tired sore eyes.

he squeezed your shoulder, insisting.

but you only shook your head again.

toge huffed and placed both hands on your shoulders this time, physically turning you around to face him— his eyes soft and his eyebrows pinched together in pure concern for you.

you peeked up reluctantly, but the sight of his face and the events from earlier flashing through your mind only made your bottom lip wobble and the bottom of your palms shoot up to dig into your eyes, more stinging tears flooding in and slipping through the corners of your closed lids.

his heart fucking broke.

“why don’t you care toge?” you hiccuped. “i worry myself sick every time you leave for a mission and— and that’s fine because it’s what you do but you never take care of yourself!”

he gently pried your shaking hands away from your eyes and wiped your tears softly with his thumbs, caressing your cheeks after— wishing so badly, more than anything in this fucking world, to just be able to speak to you like a normal human being instead of resorting to words scrambled on a piece of paper or text messages on a screen.

he gently placed a little timid peck to your nose before releasing your face and fumbling around in his pockets for his phone, tapping it awake once he retrieved it and opening his notes app to write out a sentence.

he flipped and faced the screen towards you, the brightness making you squint a bit.

“i do care i swear. i just always forget when i’m in the middle of it and i’m sorry baby.”

“so you keep forgetting after what feels like the fifteenth time i’ve told you?” you wiped more tears from your cheeks. “how— how do you think it makes me feel when you come home and you’re coughing up blood all over your clothes and the furniture huh? all over me?”

he sighed softly through his nose and went to type again, but you continued.

“i get scared toge that one day you’ll push yourself way too far and then you just won’t come home. you scare me when you cough up so much blood like that!—”

toge tugged you in then with his unoccupied hand and wrapped his arms around you, pushing your head in and stuffing your face against his chest— the scent of his freshly washed t-shirt filling your nose as you cried softly.

fuck he felt like such a douche.

he typed for a moment behind your head, a pit in his stomach that only grew in size the longer he heard your little sniffles.

toge pulled back a bit, his arms still keeping you in place but just enough so that he could lower his phone and show you his message.

“please please don’t cry. i’m really sorry okay i really am and honest to god this won’t happen again.”

you nodded meekly and he flipped his phone back, quickly typing again and showing you once he finished.

“i feel like you think i don’t care but that’s not true at all. part of the reason why i try so hard when i work is because the more curses i fuck up the safer you’ll be when you’re out there without me.”

you laughed a bit at his wording, and he beamed at that, typing.

“i love you pretty girl. and im sorry i always get blood everywhere.”

“oh i don’t care about the mess baby, i care about youu,” you whined lightly and wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him in tight.

“and i love you too, a lot… like an embarrassing amount that strips away my dignity.”

he chuckled boyishly and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his body stuttering slightly as a single thought grazed his mind— the same thought that’s been in the crevices of his brain since he asked you to be his.

you felt his tension and pulled back.

“what?”

toge bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at you, his weight shifting as he contemplated telling you something he didn’t want to burden or upset you with, the pad of his thumb softly rubbing over your chubby cheek.

you quirked an eyebrow. “what? are you cheating on me?”

he burst out laughing and shook his head, kissing your forehead before dropping his hand from your cheek and pulling out his phone again.

he typed for a minute then showed you.

“me not being able to speak to you like a normal boyfriend should or respond to you whenever makes me freaking useless. so i push myself out there to keep you safe because that’s literally the least i can do for you, since i can’t even do the bare minimum.”

you gasped softly. “toge huh? this is—”

he shook his head once more and you stopped as he typed again.

“i always try to make you laugh with the things that i do or whenever i text you because i’m afraid that one day you’ll get tired of me not being able to talk to you and you’ll leave. which is also something i would never blame you for and understand.”

your heart squeezed in the worst excruciatingly way possible, completely baffled and mortified to the fact that toge was thinking about things like this and wholeheartedly believing it without you noticing or him saying anything to you about it.

he typed again.

“that’s why i cosplay as gojo when i leave for missions and come back a dumbass with blood in my mouth. that’s why i forget when you tell me to be careful because the need to be something for you is way fucking greater.”

“togeee!” you sobbed, bursting out crying like a little baby as you were moved and haunted by his words simultaneously, your arms engulfing him as he desperately shot his hands out and quickly wiped your tears again, shaking his head frantically as if pleading with you not to cry.

“how could you ever believe that?” you nudged him away and hiccuped, your eyes serious. “why haven’t you told me about this? everything you just said is literally propaganda.”

he chuckled, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“toge, why do you think i’ve been with you for so long? do you think i’m just dicking around?”

“dicking around on my dick?”

you swatted his phone away. “no! not right now.”

you both shared a small giggle, twinkling eyes looking at each other.

“if i felt like you weren’t doing even the bare minimum, i would’ve been gone before you had the chance to put this ring on—”

his gaze drifted down to the black shiny heart promise ring on your ring finger that you held up for him, and he smiled softly.

“baby what you do for me everyday is above and beyond the bare minimum. i’m happy. i’m so happy to be with you that you not doing enough has never crossed my mind and it never will.”

you slid your arms around his neck and pulled him down a little, gently. “i’ve never cared about your ability to speak. i fell in love with you, who you are, and the fact that i did without you having to iterate words to me? olympic sport.”

toge rolled his eyes playfully at your comment, and you stood on your tippy toes and kissed the tip of his pretty nose then. “all men do when they talk is lie anyways…” you tilted your head. “but i know you’ll never lie to me.”

“never.” he mouthed silently.

he bundled you up in his arms and lifted you like you were nothing, him carefully leaning in and pressing his lips to yours as if you were a fragile little thing— kissing you so devotedly, warmly, his forehead resting against yours once he pulled apart after greedily getting his daily fix of you.

“i know your job as a jujutsu sorcerer pays the bills and comes with you putting yourself in difficult situations… and my job doesn’t even compare, but please don’t overdo it for my sake. i want you to come home, okay?”

you know it’s selfish… he should be saving lives no matter the cost.

but he was your man. was it so bad to just want to keep him for the rest of your days? to get the chance to grow old with him, and buy a little quiet house on the country side like you always joked about in the late hours of the night with him? drinking cool glasses of lemonade on the porch?

“please don’t always be the hero.” you whispered guiltily. “but if you must… just keep me in mind while you do it.”

you’re always on his mind. he hopes you know that.

toge breathed softly through his nose and smoothly set you back down, the pads of your feet making contact with the icy tile flooring as his hands dragged up from around your waist to the sides of your head, him pushing a hard kiss to your cheek as if to seal your request.

“do you promise?” you mumbled.

he pulled back and held his little pinky out for you, and you giggled, linking yours with his firmly.

“you can’t go back on it okay? you used your pinky it’s legally binding!” you warned, a silly smile on your face. “don’t lie to me and break it.”

toge grinned and leaned towards you as he bent down a bit— your gaze locking with his as he looked at you at eye level with his hands on his knees, him mouthing his next words, slowly.

words that made your cheeks buzz a cutesy pink, words that he took seriously, and words that tied you to him and the little house by the countryside he wanted so badly with you, as those words solidified how much he truly truly loved you— him hoping you always knew.

“i would never lie to you.” he mouthed.

taglist!! <33: @saebaey

[pastryfication]

Plsssss can u write a fic about Lando and reader where meets his family for the first time at a race and they all fall in love with her xx

hope you enjoy <33

It wasn’t often you gave Lando the right to gloat about being right. But if it had to be ever, now would be the right time. Because Cisca Norris was an absolute sweetheart. You learned that very quickly.

From the moment you stepped into the garage, all nervous smile and awkwardly wringing hands, quite literally feeling like you might puke, she had practically pulled you away from the safety of Lando’s warm hand on your back and onto the chair next to hers.

If her welcoming body language came from raising four kids, you didn’t know, but there was something so incredibly warm about her that made your shoulders sink back to normal almost immediately and you almost forgot how panicky you were before entering the paddock that morning.

Lando had reassured you the whole way in that easygoing way of his, as if nothing could go wrong. He’d kept his hand on your thigh the entire ride so he could give it a soft squeeze every time he saw you get a bit too caught up in your head.

“They’re going to love you, I promise.”

You hadn’t been so convinced, but he had just smiled and promised that even, if by some weird unfavourable marvel, they didn’t like you, it wouldn’t change anything. He was down bad for you. So hopelessly in love that not even his mother’s judgment was going to change that.

He was firm in his stance. It didn’t matter. But despite his earlier words, Lando couldn’t deny that seeing you laugh with his mum was a sight that warmed something inside of him. It was as if every single part of his body had gotten the same memo—that the moment called for nothing but warm joy—and the tingling feeling brought a wide smile to his face.

“She’s really lovely, son.” His father’s voice brought him out of his head and he turned to find Adam standing to the side, wearing a grin identical to his own. “Been stealing your mum’s attention all day.”

“Yeah?” Lando wasn’t paying full attention to his father, his eyes were still flickering over to your seat in the hospitality.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t keep the smile of his face. Not when his son was looking like that, so openly happy that it shone from every one of his cells. “Go say hi.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, and in two long strides he was standing behind you, grinning at his mother as he clasped his hands onto your shoulders.

You jumped in surprise for a second, the touch unexpected, but you sat back down as soon as you recognised the familiar sound of laughter that had filled so many fond memories in your head.

“Hi, Lan.” You breathed.

“Hi, baby.” He leaned down press a kiss to your cheek, lingering for a second longer than necessary to inhale the smell of your perfume. The smell that lingered on your skin the same way it lingered on his bedsheets when you spent the night. The smell that had become equivalent with home.

You leaned back to look at him, grinning at the twinkle in his eyes as you found his gaze.

His hand moved to rest on your cheek, his touch feather soft as he caressed the skin, almost like he couldn’t believe that you were there. Supporting him, loving him, being his. It still surprised him every morning when he woke with his hand tangled lovingly with his, your cheek smushed against his bare chest as if his warmth brought you comfort. As if you were as dependent on him as he were on you.

His hand stayed on your skin, thump moving up and down your neck, and as you leaned into his touch, he met his mum’s gaze over your shoulder.

She was smiling softly, eyes tenderly observing the scene in front of her. When she caught him looking her way, she gave the slightest nod in his direction eyebrows raised in a way that didn’t need words.

It was a small reassurance he definitely didn’t need—not when it came to you—but it meant the world either way. That she saw the same as him. That she would appreciate you the same way he had sworn he would spent the rest of his life doing. That she knew the same as him: that loving you would be as easy as breathing.

[shawtuzi]

idk what this is it kinda just came to me

cw include: breath play, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, sugu is such a sweetie pie :((, two bfs but only suguru’s fucking you in this, i added a cute interaction between sugu and eren bc why df not <33 (boarder credit @/bernardsbendystraws)

“you wanna know what i noticed?” suguru asked, wiping off any excess from the face mask he just washed off. eren was beside him brushing his teeth, tired eyes looking at his reflection as he brushed his teeth. eren locked eyes with suguru in the mirror, his brows raising in question.

suguru looked outside of the bathroom making sure you weren’t in earshot—thankfully you were already preoccupied running over citizens in gta 5.

“don’t get all bashful on me now,” eren’s muffled voice teased suguru. he could tell by the pink tint in his cheeks that it was definitely something naughty. suguru was the shyest perv eren had ever met in his life.

geto kissed his teeth, yanking off his (your) bubble headband. “i think…y/n’s into breath play,” suguru couldn’t help the smirk that quirked his lips, especially when he saw that eren’s tired eyes were now wide and full of questions.

“look just hear me out…”

*flashback <3*

suguru’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his thighs trembling from pure pleasure. he had your knees to your ears, skillful hips slapping into the back of thighs as he fucked you like he hated your guts. you cried out in pleasure when his fingernails dug little crescents into the fat of your thighs, a gush of your essence coating the base of his dick soon after.

“c-choke me.”

“h-huh?”

suguru’s pace slowed but never stopped—he was toooo fucking close to his nut to stop completely. your hand weakly tapped at his, “choke me please. i c-can handle it s’okay.” suguru gulped, his balls tightening. with a shaky hand he wrapped his fingers around your throat, adding zero pressure whatsoever.

you huffed, kicking your feet against his lower back. “do it harder sugu. it’s okay i can take itttt,” your lips were turned into an adorable pout, doe eyes brimming with the neediest tears. suguru’s brows furrowed, his lips turning into a frown. he was just so scared he’d hurt you :((

you could sense the change in his demeanor, a small smile making its way onto your lips. you brought a hand up to caress his jaw, letting out a tiny laugh when he leant into your touch. “if it hurts i’ll tap you okay? don’t worry sugu, let loose a little m’ a big girl,” suguru laughed at the last part, pressing a kiss to your palm before shifting his weight to apply more pressure to your throat.

you gasped at the new angle, your pussy clenching suguru’s cock like a vice when his hand tightened around your throat. suguru pulled out till only the tip was in before slamming back inside you, his hips circling deliciously before repeating it three more times. “f-faster!” you croaked, your heart fluttering when suguru licked a stray tear off your cheek. that was certainly new.

suguru’s strokes were quicker but still just as precise, his spongy tip kissing that special spot deeeep inside you. “f-fuck baby s’wet for sugu,” he grunted, a whimper that he so desperately wanted to keep down bubbled in his chest. “d-don’t….don’t lemme breathe till i cum, m’so close sugu,” suguru’s eyes widened, his pace faltering the tiniest bit.

did you always like being this roughed up?

suguru didn’t answer, instead he just righted his grip around your throat once more until he heard you squeak. his dialed pupils found yours, looking for any signs of discomfort but all he saw was your mouth dropped in pleasure, your eyes nearly rolling back. his pace quickened, his swollen balls slapping harshly against your backside.

“o-oh fuck!” you squealed, your teeth clenching together when you felt suguru’s pelvis rub harshly against your puffy clit. “ooo shit your about to c-cum, i can—fuck, i can fuckin’ feel it,” suguru growled, his thumb pressing down on the center of your throat. your head was beginning to feel very fuzzy and you loved it.

suguru let out a high pitched whine when the first stream of your cum hit his stomach abruptly. your eyes were completely rolled into the back of your head, droplets of drool leaking from your lips and onto your chin and neck. suguru continued to fuck your through your orgasm like a madman, his grip on your throat loosening.

you weren’t quiet sure what happened, suguru wasn’t too sure either but something in your tummy snapped, your orgasm hitting even harder than it was before. “sh-shit you’re still fucking cumming?” suguru gasped in awe, his teeth clamping onto his bottom lip at the sight of the never ending streams of cum coating his dick and abdomen. “look at that,” he grunted, cupping the back of your neck. he pushed your neck upwards, forcing you to look at the mess between your bodies.

you weren’t capable of even making a sound, all you could do was look your sugu in the eyes and silently beg for his cum. oh how he loved when you looked at him like that.

suguru’s abs clenched, his hips pushing against yours one last time before he came, white dots clouding his vision. he slowly rolled his hips, relishing in the sloshing noises that echoed throughout the room.

“you okay baby? wasn’t too rough on you was i?” he frowned, cupping your face in his hands. you giggled breathlessly, shaking your head. suguru kissed your lips three times, his tongue slipping into your mouth. you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tugging at his jet black strands.

“mmph don’t get too excited sweetness, let’s wait for eren for the next round yeah?”

*flashback over <3*

eren was absolutely gobsmacked at this information, his mouth parted but no words were able to be formed. suguru was as red as tomato, his eyes looking anywhere but eren’s. “hey,” eren said poking suguru’s chest, “remember what we talked about with eye contact? y’don’t need to be so nervous sugu it’s just me.”

suguru nodded, giving eren a small smile. “you’re right you’re right…but yeah that’s what i’m thinking. i could be wrong but with her you never know,” suguru chuckled, his ears pricking up when he heard footsteps approaching the bathroom.

“what’s taking you guys so longgg? m’getting bored by myself in there,” you whined, nuzzling into eren’s side. eren squeezed your hip lovingly, his lips lifting into a smirk. you gasped when you felt eren’s hand wrap around your neck, your head knocking against the door with a soft thud when he pushed you against it. “w-what’s your deal?” you whined, your clit tingling at the force.

“me and sugu had a very interesting conversation about you. ‘told me that you liked to be fucked till your dizzy and breathless…is that right?” eren spoke softly, his thumb brushing your chin. your eyes flit to suguru’s, your lips pushing into a pout at the shit eating grin in his face. “that was supposed to be a secret,” you whispered, knowing good and well what the two men were talking about.

eren tutted, slowly shaking his head, “my sweet girl y’know there’s no such thing as secrets in this relationship, isn’t that right babe?” suguru nodded eagerly, warmth pooling in his lower belly. he rlly liked when eren called him pet names hehe. you jumped when you felt eren’s free hand cup your pussy gently, his palm bumping against your clit.

“i can feel your heartbeat over your shorts princess,” he whispered in your ear, licking over the shell of it. you whined in embarrassment, wanting so desperately to cover your face but you knew better than to hide yourself from your boyfriends. suguru inched closer to the two of you until he was cornering you along with eren.

“don’t be embarrassed baby, i really liked it! i know you did too right?” he grinned, squishing your cheeks together. eren gave you a look, silently telling you to be honest. you huffed through your nose, nodding shamelessly. you felt so small underneath their intense gazes, but you definitely couldn’t deny you were excited for whatever was coming your way!!

[lambilegs]

I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."

[winwintea]

inyun

PAIRING ↬ next door neighbor!mark lee x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, potential soulmates, past lives au, friends to (?), shared dreams, the idea of inyun/inyeon or “fate”

SUMMARY ↬ when you move into a small apartment complex in seoul, your next-door neighbor, mark lee, seems like nothing more than an ordinary guy. but as the two of you get to know each other more, it suddenly feels like you’ve known him forever. then mark mentions his grandmother's belief in 인연. the idea that every encounter is woven by threads of fate. are these coincidences between you and mark really accidental or is there something deeper going on?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ somebody (me) decided to rewatch past lives 🙈 this was supposed to be fluff and a gift for @https-lvesick but finals week started sinking in… thank you to my saviors @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading, love y'all <33

PLAYLIST ↬ jazz bar - dreamcatcher; mago - gfriend; you - nct dream; dejavu - nu’est w; wham bam shang-a-lang - silver

THERE IS A WORD IN KOREAN:

"인연"

it means providence or fate. 

but it's specifically about the relationships between people. 

it's an "인연" if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives.

Your apartment door was wide open, boxes half-unpacked and filling the hallway. You’d tried to keep things organized, but between the moving of your furniture and the delivery guy calling for directions, you slowly lost your organization.

You were crouched on the floor, handling a box of kitchenware, when you heard a muffled voice behind you.

“Uh, hi? Excuse me?”

Startled, you turned to see a guy standing at the end of the hallway, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a set of keys dangling from the other. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, glasses fixed upon his face, and his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Are… are you my new neighbor?” he asked in Korean, motioning toward the boxes that completely blocked his door.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” your voice squeaked as you responded in some broken korean, not mentally prepared to face a neighbor on the first day of moving him. You scrambled to move a tower of books out of his way. “I didn’t realize—let me just—”

“It’s fine, really,” he interrupted in English this time with a small laugh. “I’m Mark, by the way. Do you speak English?”

“Oh!” You paused mid-shove, shocked at his perfect accent. “Yes. Yes I do.” You were suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “Y/N,” you replied, brushing stray hair from your face. “Nice to meet you, and again, sorry for the mess. Your English is really good.”

“No worries. Happens to the best of us,” Mark said, crouching to help move the heavier boxes. “I’m from Canada, so English is kind of my thing.”

“Aah. I see.” You nodded, still mortified.

“This is your first day here?”

“Yeah. My friends were supposed to help, but they bailed at the last minute. So here I am, single-handedly creating a big explosive mess.”

Mark chuckled, lifting a box with ease. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty solid job for one person. Though... maybe try not to block your neighbors' doors next time.”

“Noted,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, standing to hold the door open as he slid the box inside.

When the hallway was clear, you expected him to leave, but he stayed, looking at the stacks of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “Need an extra pair of hands?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m a pro at this. Moved like five times in the last three years.”

Before you could protest further, Mark rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved like he really had done this a hundred times, lifting heavy items with ease and made the process less awkward with his small jokes.

“This box says ‘Bathroom,’ but it’s definitely full of shoes,” he teased, pulling out a pair of sneakers.

“Okay, maybe I got a little lazy with the labels,” you admitted.

“Lazy? Nah, this is strategic. Keeps life exciting,” he quipped, tossing the sneakers back in.

You laughed, the tension from earlier fading away. Somehow, he’d turned what felt like a stressful task into something almost fun.

Once the last box was inside, Mark clapped his hands together. “Mission accomplished. And since I’m basically your hero now, I think I’ve earned a reward. Got any snacks?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I have… instant ramen?”

Mark grinned. “Perfect. My favorite.”

After settling in for a few days, you don’t encounter Mark again. That is, until a series of random moments start pulling you back into his orbit.  

On one of those nights, just past 9 p.m., the apartment complex suddenly plunges into darkness. The familiar buzz of your refrigerator stops, and the streetlights outside shut off, leaving your apartment only dimly lit from the moon. 

Groaning, you fumble around for your phone, only to realize the battery is at 4%. Great. You grab a flashlight, slowly open your door, and step out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who knows what is going on. 

That’s when you spot him.

Mark is sitting on the floor just outside his door, a small stack of candles beside him.

“Hey,” he greets, a faint smile on his face as he waves a lighter. “Power’s out in the whole block, apparently. Wanna borrow a candle?”

You take in his setup and smirk. He’s surrounded by neatly arranged tea lights and thick pillar candles.“Uh, are you in a cult or something?”

“Eh, my grandma’s kinda superstitious. Always told me to keep candles around the house just in case,” he says, shrugging. “I thought she was overreacting, but turns out she’s kind of a genius.”

You sit down a few feet away, gratefully accepting a candle he lights for you. The flame brightens up the dark hallway, leaving warm shadows on Mark’s face.

“So,” you start, leaning against the wall, “What do you normally do during blackouts? Just... sit around and wait?”

“Basically. Or… get this,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “People actually talk to each other. Crazy, right? You could, I don’t know, tell me something about yourself. Like… how many candles do you keep at home?”

“None,” you admit holding up your flashlight. “This is all I’ve got. I guess I’m doomed in a blackout. Your grandma would be so disappointed in me.”

“She would,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I’ll let it slide. Only because you’re new here.”

The conversation flows easily after that. You both begin trading random facts: Your favorite childhood snacks, his love for playing guitar, the time you accidentally dyed your hair orange trying to bleach it yourself. He counters with a tale of a botched bleach job that left him looking like a walking science experiment for months. 

Minutes turn into an hour, the candles continuing to burn as the two of you share quiet laughter and stories. And for the first time that night, the darkness doesn’t feel so bad.

—

A few days later, you’re hauling overstuffed grocery bags up the stairs when Mark pokes his head out of his apartment. His hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie that practically swallows him whole.

“Oh, hey!” he calls, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Need help?”

“I got it, thanks!” you manage to say, despite your arms straining and the bag handles digging into your fingers.  

Before you can argue, Mark is already down the hall, grabbing it from you, and effortlessly carrying it to your door. “Looks like this thing was holding on for dear life,” he teases, hoisting it easily as he follows you to your door.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I was gonna knock on your door anyway,” he interrupts with a grin. “I baked something earlier and thought you might want to try it.”

That makes you pause mid-door unlock. “You bake?”

“Why does everyone react like that?” he says with mock offense. “Yes, I bake. Don’t look so shocked.”

“You don’t look like the baking type. Or cooking.”

“Oh, I can’t cook.” He scowls as if thinking about a bad memory, “But baking is pretty easy. It’s just throwing everything into one bowl, mixing it up, and waiting. Piece of cake. Or, in this case, cookies.”

A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on your tiny kitchen floor, a plate of freshly baked cookies between you. The smell of warm chocolate and butter fills the air.

“These are amazing,” you say after taking a bite, your voice muffled by the cookie in your mouth.

Mark beams, leaning back against the counter. “Not bad, right? I got the recipe off some YouTube channel. Figured I’d test it out before offering it to my friends.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to look offended. “Wait, so I’m just the guinea pig?”

He admits, laughing. “Pretty much. But hey, honest opinion: too sweet? Not sweet enough?”

“Perfect,” you reply, reaching out for another. “But you should’ve added nuts. Makes it more sophisticated. Just make sure you aren’t allergic.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Sophisticated? Wow. Didn’t know I was baking for royalty.”

You chuckle, playfully tossing a crumpled napkin at him, and the conversation once again flows effortlessly from there. You laugh over Mark’s failed attempts at “fancy” macarons, and somehow turn into stories about childhood food disasters.

By the time the plate is empty and an hour has vanished. With Mark, even the simplest moments feel like they belong in a movie.

—

Then it’s yet another lazy Sunday when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Mark holding a massive box labeled 50-pack instant ramen.

“I think this is yours,” he says, biting back a laugh.

You glance at the label and groan. “Oh my God. I ordered five. Five!”

“Well, congrats,” he says, handing you the box. “Looks like you’re set for the next year.”

You sigh, dragging the box inside. A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Mark’s returned to your door, grinning this time.

“You know,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe, “if you need help finishing all that ramen, I’m just next door. We could, like, host a ‘ramen buffet.’ Charge admission or something.”

You snort. “Sure. I’ll make you the first VIP guest. Free ramen for life.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever gotten,” he says, eyes sparkling. “But seriously, I’ll take a few packs off your hands if it’s too much. My midnight snack stash could use a refill.”

Later, you text him a picture of your pantry. 

YOU: Your VIP pass is ready 

MARK: I’ll bring the chopsticks! 😂

The first time the dream comes, it’s vivid enough to remember even after you wake up. In the dream you’re walking through a bustling marketplace, the air thick with the scents and noise of those around you. People push past you, but you don’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, there’s a strange pull, like a thread tugging at your body. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of someone—a young man with a warm smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a soft laugh that echoes through the din. 

You can’t see his face clearly, but his hand brushes yours as he passes. And in that moment, it leaves a spark. A warmth that feels almost familiar.

When you wake up, the details are already fading, but the feeling of that touch, that spark, seems to linger, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.

A few days later, you're sitting with Mark in the hallway outside your apartments, the floor scattered with takeout boxes and empty soda cans. The two of you have somehow fallen into the habit of these late-night talks, sharing parts of your day and random thoughts that cross your mind in the moment.

“Have you ever had weird dreams?” you ask, swirling the straw in your drink.

Mark leans back against the wall, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. “Weird how?”

“Like…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Like they’re not just dreams. More like memories. But not yours.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Spill.”

You chuckle, feeling a little silly but continuing anyway. “I’ve been dreaming about this place—a market or something. It’s super crowded, and I’m just walking around. But then…” Your voice trails off as the memory becomes clearer in your mind. “There’s this guy. I don’t know him, but when I see him, it’s like I do. And when our hands brush…”

Mark’s expression shifts, his playful smile fading into something more serious. He sits up straighter. “Wait. You said a market?”

“Yeah.”

“And… hands brushing?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah. Why?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair again. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but… I’ve had the exact same dream.”

For a moment, the world feels like it’s spinning. You blink at him, looking for any hint that he’s maybe joking, but his face is earnest, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“No way,” you say, laughing nervously. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not!” Mark protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear. There’s a market, right? And I’m just walking, but then I see someone—you, I guess? And when our hands touch, it’s like—”

“—like a spark,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you, his eyes wide. “Exactly.”

The air between you grows silent, the laughter and casual banter from earlier replaced by something more ominous.

“Do you think it means something?” you ask after a long pause, your voice trying to stabilize itself.

Mark lets out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My grandma used to say that some people are connected through 인연—fate, you know? Like… maybe we knew each other before. In another life.”

You study his face, the soft curve of his jaw and the way his lips press together like he’s holding back more than he’s saying out loud. “Do you believe that?”

He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But if it’s true…” He pauses, his gaze dropping to his hands, which rest in his lap. “Maybe it’s why I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we just met.”

Your breath catches, his words affecting something deep inside you. The dreams, the strange familiarity, the unexplainable pull towards him, the way you could spend hours with each other, you’ve felt since the day you moved in. It’s all beginning to make a strange kind of sense. 

You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink, and in that moment, the spark from your dream seems to jolt back to life.

Mark glances down, his fingers twitching as if he’s tempted to close the gap. Instead, he looks at you.“Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he says softly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words.

“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not sure you believe it either.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mention the dreams again. But when you go to bed, the image of two hands brushing in a crowded marketplace still lingers in your mind, clearer than ever.

It’s a Friday evening, and you’re sitting on Mark’s couch, a blanket thrown over both of your laps. The faint smell of popcorn fills the air as a half-watched movie plays on the screen. Mark’s head is tilted back, his eyes weary from the long day, his fingers idly drumming to a beat on the couch cushion between you.

You glance at him, noting how cozy it seems here. It’s moments like these that feel strange… and effortless. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Hey,” you say, nudging his arm lightly. “You’re zoning out. The movie isn't that bad.”

Mark snorts, turning his head toward you. “Oh, yeah? Name one character besides the main guy.”

“Uh... The dog?”

“Exactly.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your stomach flip.

But before you can laugh along, his phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. Mark’s smile fades as he leans forward to grab it. You watch his face shift—something serious.

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice careful.

“It’s... uh, an email. From SM,” he says, mentioning the entertainment company where he’s been interning. He hesitates, scrolling through the message. “They want me to come in for a meeting. Apparently, there’s a potential opening on one of their teams in Vancouver.”

You sit up straighter. “Vancouver? Like... Canada?”

He nods, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve got this big international project coming up, and I guess they think I’d be a good fit.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words setting in. “That’s... amazing, Mark. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” His tone is quiet, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t match the words. He sets his phone back down and leans back again, trying to avoid your gaze.

“So,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant even as your chest tightens, “you’re thinking of going?”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve noticed over the months. “I don’t know yet. It’s a huge opportunity, but... I’d have to leave. Like, soon.”

“Right,” you say, your voice a little too steady. “It makes sense. You’ve been working toward something like this for a long time.”

He finally looks at you, his dark eyes searching. “Yeah, but... leaving means leaving everything. Everyone.”

You know what he’s implying, but neither of you says it out loud.

—

It’s the day of Mark’s big decision. Whether to take the overseas job offer or stay in Seoul. You’ve been avoiding the topic, scared of what it might mean for you. But tonight, the two of you find yourselves on the rooftop of your apartment building. The breeze carries the faint scent of flowers that Mark planted the other day in the community garden.

You sit side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the low wall. Although dangerous, Mark always promised that he’d catch you if you fell. He also wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. He’s always thoughtful like that.

For a while, neither of you says anything, just watching the sun slowly start to descend down the bustling city. 

Finally, Mark breaks the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about 인연.”

You turn to look at him. His face is painted in soft, golden light. “Yeah? What about it?”

He chuckles softly, almost nervously, running a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was just a cool idea. Like, ‘Oh, that’s neat. Fate and past lives and stuff.’ But… I don’t know. Every time I’m with you, it feels like there’s something bigger happening. Like I’ve known you forever, and I don’t even know why.”

Your breath catches. Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel so much more real than you imagined in your head. “I feel it too. Like… we’ve been here before. Not just on this rooftop, but in some other life, in some other time.”

Mark finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “But what if we’re just making this up? What if we’re using fate as an excuse to… I don’t know, hold onto something that isn’t real?”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. He’s scared, just like you are. Scared of the intensity of it all, scared of what it means to let go. Or to keep holding on.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know if this is fate, Mark. I don’t know if some invisible thread tied us together, or if we’re just two people who got lucky enough to meet. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about why we found each other, but what we do with it now.”

Mark looks at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitates. You can tell he’s turning your words over in his mind, weighing them. “So… what do we do with it? What if I take the job? What if I leave? Does that mean we weren’t meant to be?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing before he laces them with yours. “You taking the job or staying doesn’t erase what we’ve shared. If this is fate, Mark, it’ll find a way to bring us back together. And if it’s not… then I’ll still be grateful for every moment we’ve had.”

“You make it sound so easy. Like letting go wouldn’t completely wreck me.” His grip tightens, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard. 

You smile, but there’s a little sadness to your voice. “Who says letting go has to mean goodbye? Maybe it just means letting the story unfold the way it’s meant to.”

The silence that follows feels heavy but not uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning in Mark’s mind. He’s thinking, unsure of what to say. 

Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, either. But I believe in you. And I believe in us.”

Your heart skips a beat, but he’s not done yet.

“So… if I stay, it won’t be because I’m afraid of losing whatever this is. It’ll be because I want to keep building it with you. And if I go… it’ll be because I know we’re strong enough to handle the distance.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

He grins, that familiar smile that’s become so dear to you.

“Not really. I’m just winging it.”

You both laugh, the warmth from your voices cutting through the bittersweetness of the moment. The future feels uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel so scary.

As the last rays of sunlight fade, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Whether it’s fate, luck, or sheer coincidence, you’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── hyunjin messes up and kkami helps him apologize

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff (might be the cutest thing i wrote recently)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: this is definitely inspired by the new book i'm obsessing over right now so pls enjoy and let me know what you think!! <33

“Well, well, look who finally remembered he has a loving partner missing him at home.”

You hear Hyunjin sigh on the other end, sheepish, obviously expecting you’d cut him some slack for disappearing for days, like talking to him wasn’t the best part of your day. Touring was hard, and he’s been insanely busy from day one – you get it. That’s why, your tone’s more playful than intended, only being able to let the phone ring for two heartbeats before rushing to answer and let his velvety voice bring sunshine back into your dull life.

“Hello, the absolute love of my life I think about daily.” He clears his throat, brushing over your comment in hopes you’re not truly upset he hasn’t called in so long. Two days weren’t a big deal, but for clingy people like you and him, going 48 hours without hearing what the other has been up to was torture. It was just enough time for insecurity to creep in, feeding you lies upon lies about how he’d forgotten your relationship and was currently in the process of replacing you with someone else, someone better and more worthy of owning his heart.

Your heart flutters, a grin finding its way onto features despite your attempts at stopping it. “Hello, Hyunjin.”

“Who the fuck is Hyunjin?”

No longer able to keep the happiness at bay, you burst out laughing, the aggravation clear as day in the absence of his usual pet name. Hyunjin was your baby, nothing else. His name only ever left your pretty lips you couldn’t wait to press against his only when the situation called for seriousness.

Settling down, you ignore his displeased huffing. “The guy who hasn’t called me in a week. You might know him.”

You’re teasing. You both know it, just like he knows that behind your words, the only genuine thing is the longing and the wish to have him close again, missing the steady beat of his heart and his familiar warmth that usually lulled you to sleep, badly. Hyunjin has always been great at reading between the lines, figuring you out easily, like you were nothing more than an unchallenging puzzle he could solve with his eyes closed.

“A week? I know I messed up, love, but it’s only been two days. Not even, just about 45 hours.” You hear sheets rustling on the other end, helping you picture him lounging about in the hotel bed, hair most likely still damp from his previous shower. For once, the time difference was not absurd, allowing you to stare wistfully at the moon with certainty the other was doing the same, sharing stories of your love and trusting she’ll keep them safe.

“You counted?” You giggle, making yourself more comfortable on the couch, right next to Kkami who is sleeping soundly.

“I’ve been counting the hours until I can see you again the second I stepped outside our apartment.” He confesses, voice suddenly heavy with emotion before he gasps, ruining what could have been a sweet moment. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

Of course, you have. Time seemed to go by incredibly slowly whenever he wasn’t near, the increasing distance causing his magnetic pull to grow weaker each day, but never diminishing, never losing its hold on you. That was impossible.

“No.” You lie blatantly, leaning back against the couch casually, one hand moving to slowly pet Kkami’s head whose slumber gave him the perfect excuse to ignore you.

“Liar.”

For the first time in your life, the fact that he knew you like the back of his hand was annoying.

“Don’t change the subject! You’re still not in the clear for forgetting about me for two whole days, Hyunjin.” You’re not actually mad, just feeling a little bit neglected. Hyunjin has never gone MIA like that, without even texting you brief updates throughout the day just so you’ll know he was still alive and kicking. Your boyfriend was thoughtful, sweet, and considerate – the radio silence you got for the past two days was very unlike him.

“I didn’t forget.” He counters, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head vehemently, denying all of your accusations. “I could never forget, not in this lifetime or any others.”

“Liar.” You mock him, making a face he can’t see and tease you about like he’d usually do. “You could have texted, at least. Let me know you’d be busy.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is soft, apology genuine as can be when he doesn’t try to justify himself or find excuses. Hyunjin is aware that if the roles were reversed, he’d feel the same way you’re feeling right now, the anxiety and worry eating at him from the inside and leaving behind a restlessness he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried to. And he does, to an extent. Not being able to contact you drove him on the brink of insanity, making him moodier and more difficult to work it, which was so unlike him.

“Can I talk to Kkami?” He adds, trying to make it up to you in his own, creative way you’ve come to love.

“What?” You can’t help but laugh, not sure you heard him right.

“Pass the phone to Kkami for a moment, please?”

Now you’re curious, wondering what that beautiful mind had in store for you this time. You’ve been dog-sitting Kkami since he left, sending him regular updates in hopes of brightening up his day and keeping the homesickness at bay. Your camera roll has been full of pictures and videos of Kkami - walking him, playing together and being cute just for Hyunjin’s delight. A small price to ensure your boyfriend’s everlasting happiness.

“Should I leave you two alone? Give you some privacy?”

He laughs, and you hear the sound of a bag zipping up. “Yes. This is just between us boys, sorry baby.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you do as he asks, lowering the phone close to Kkami’s ear like the pup could actually catch Hyunjin up on what’s been happening around the house since he left. At the sound of his owner’s voice, Kkami’s eyes open as his ears perk up, visibly excited to hear him after so long. With his tail waggling, Kkami listens attentively to whatever Hyunjin is telling him, sleep long forgotten as you start giggling next to him, not believing your eyes.

Kkami was not an affectionate dog, often biting or growling at your lover like he was sick of him. Hyunjin’s presence and fussing were a bore, the dog quickly growing tired of his excited nature, even though your boyfriend was the person he loved most in the world.

That’s exactly why, you’re taken aback when he sprints off the couch, running a lap around the living room before returning to jump at your feet, barking and licking the hand closest to him excitedly.

Dumbfounded, you bring the phone back to your ear laughing. “What did you say to him? He’s suddenly so happy to see me.”

“He’s groveling in my stead. I told him to show you how much I miss you.”

Your heart melts, and suddenly he’s all forgiven as tears well up in your eyes. “Hyun…”

“Actually, I asked him if he wanted a treat.” Your tears get absorbed right back as a laugh bubbles out of the both of you, with Kkami jumping into your lap to beg properly. “I guess he figured I wasn’t there to give him some, so now he expects them from you.”

“You set me up.” You say, voice laced with playfulness as you stand up, scooping Kkami with one hand to fulfill his request. A true glutton, he’d never forgive you if you denied him his beloved snacks.

“Maybe. But my words had the desired effect.” His tone is softer now, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re laughing.”

Yet, the joy didn’t reach its full potential, and never will with hundreds of miles between you. Happiness in its truest form found you in a handful of moments, and for most of them, Hyunjin was right by your side, fueling you with the love and devotion he held for you and you alone. He made you happy like nobody else, helping you see color even on the darkest days. Your beloved loved painting, that’s what he did, you just never thought he could bring forth his talent and make you see beauty in everything, guiding you to see the world through his eyes that always sparkled like he held the entire galaxy in them.

“Baby.”

Hyunjin gasps so loudly, almost like he is on the verge of bursting with happiness, matching Kkami’s energy to a T, ready to jump through the phone to feel your love and affection again.

“Can we facetime? I miss your beautiful face.” You add once Kkami is back on his own paws, devouring the stinky treat in your hand as you crouch to his level.

“Facetime? Love, I’ll literally catch the earliest flight and be there in record time! This little screen isn’t cutting it anymore, I need to see you with my own eyes before I get so desperate I start walking back just to be in your arms!”

And that is your cue to get on a plane first and finally visit your boyfriend before he keeps his word and ends up at your doorsteps with nothing but a duffle bag and a sob story about how much he missed you to justify his careless actions.

[itoshiierae]

Hihi !! I was wondering if you could write Rin fluff about how he is super clingy and needy but acts like he isn’t and gets super shy and embarrassed when you point it out !!

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 notes: rin claims he’s not clingy but he gets grumpy when you’re more than two feet away.

ᡣ𐭩 cw: flufff <33 rin being soft & clingy but he’s in denial lmao (not proofread)

you’re on the couch, just minding your own business while scrolling through your phone with your legs tucked under a soft cozy blanket— when rin suddenly throws himself down beside you.

or more like, on you.

one arm slung around your waist, chin nudging your shoulder, as the soft strands of his hair brush against your cheek with every quiet shift. the weight of his body slowly melts into yours like he’s been carrying it all day only to fall apart here.

you blink. “uh… rin???”

“hmm...” he mumbles it into your sleeve.

you glance down at him as you stroke his hair before asking, “everything okay??”

he nods but he’s still not moving.

“…do you wanna cuddle?”

“no.”

you raise an eyebrow. “uhh, babe… you do realize you’re clinging onto me like a koala right now, right?”

he scoffs, pulling the blanket higher around the both of you now. “….shut up.”

you have to physically stop yourself from laughing because he’s trying so hard to deny it while his whole body is practically wrapped around you. it’s always been this way with him.

he’s constantly pretending he’s not clingy, even when every part of him says otherwise. you see it in the way his fingers hook lightly under the hem of your shirt— like he just needs to hold onto something to stay grounded. and in the way his forehead keeps nudging against your neck, sleepy and instinctive, almost as if his body’s just naturally drawn to yours.

“you swear you don’t like cuddling… and yet here you are, refusing to let me go.”

“… i do not,” he mutters, face now buried in the crook of your neck, like he’s embarrassed by the truth.

you run your fingers through his hair, voice laced with amusement. “right… so this isn’t you seeking comfort and affection from your beloved girlfriend?”

“i said shut up…”

“you could’ve just straight up asked me for a hug, rin.”

he groans, the tips of his ears already turning pink. “…you’re annoying.”

you press a kiss to his cheek, even as he half-heartedly turns away like he’s embarrassed to want it so much. “you’re clingy,” you say again, smiling against his skin.

“i’m not—” he mutters, though he still hasn’t let go.

“you’ve been latching onto me like a koala for the past five minutes, and you still won’t admit it?”

he doesn’t say anything right after— because deep down, he knows you’re right. but well… it’s not like that stops him from clinging to you anyway.

──★

later that night when you roll over to grab your charger, rin instinctively tugs you back to him. his arms wrap protectively around your waist as his legs tangle with yours— and even with his eyes still closed, it’s obvious he knows you tried to move.

you whisper, “sooo… definitely not clingy, huh?”

he doesn’t answer. but the way he tightens his grip around you??

yeah… you already know the truth & he’s just too shy to admit it.

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[achilles-rage]

Cookies

summary: you and buck bake cookies at 3am.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: hey... how y'all doing... i am finally making my comeback!! if you missed my post from yesterday (i answered a bunch of asks so now it's pretty far down there), i'm gonna be posting again, but probably less regularly. i've been stressing myself out i think by feeling the need to post a fic every 2/3 days, otherwise i feel like shit, so i'm trying to get away from that mindset, so i hope that less fics are okay!! i love and appreciate you guys so much!! anyway, enjoy<33

warnings: none, purely fluff, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

The light from the fridge casts a light across Buck’s face, harshly contrasting the dim light coming from the television as he opens the door to grab the ingredients he needs. 

“The butter needs to be room temperature,” he tells you sadly, glancing in your direction as he places the eggs and butter on the kitchen island. Your legs are dangling off the counter as you watch his every move, the cool counter pressing against the backs of your thighs in a way that makes you shiver in your sleepy state. 

It’s late; 2:30am the last time you checked, and you and Buck had the silly idea to pull an all-nighter, since you both have a few days off of work. Just like you used to do with your friends when you were kids.

“I’m sure they’ll be just as good. And, a lot better than store bought cookie dough,” you tell him with a soft laugh, rolling your eyes. 

Honestly, you’re just glad Buck has agreed to bake cookies for you this late. While you were watching a movie, the main character was making cookies, and suddenly you needed chocolate chip cookies. Like, immediately.

"Definitely better,” he says with a smirk, giving you a wink before pulling out the rest of the ingredients from the cupboards.

He helped you onto the counter before he began his work, telling you that he wanted to make them for you, and that all he needed from you was to sit there, look pretty, and keep him company. And with a face like that, how could you say no?

You watch as he measures out his dry ingredients, then mixes everything together, but he pauses every so often to give you gentle kisses, the ends of his curly hair tickling your forehead each time. When his hands aren’t somehow all sticky from the dough – you quickly learned how messy of a baker he was when you first started dating – he’d place a hand on your thigh, taking comfort in the warmth of your skin and the fact that he could feel the goosebumps under his palm. He always knows that you’re sleepy because you get cold, and your skin erupts in goosebumps.

“What do you think you’d be doing right now if we never met?” you ask quietly after a few moments of silence. He looks up at you from his bowl with furrowed brows, tilting his head to the side. 

“Is this the beginning of a breakup conversation?” he replies in a slightly teasing tone, although you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he studies your expression, and your body language, and your eyes.

Your eyes soften, and you immediately shake your head, giving him a reassuring smile as you hold your hand out. He reaches out for it, not letting it hang in the air for longer than a second or two, and lets you pull him forward until his body is positioned right between your legs, although with his hands all doughy, he opts to place his wrist under your palm.

“Baby, I have absolutely no intention of breaking up with you anytime soon. I was just thinking. How different would our lives be if we never met?” you say as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting your hands dangle behind his head as his lay on the counter on either side of you, making sure not to get your pajamas dirty from the dough covering his hands.

“They’d be very different. I’d be fast asleep right now, that’s for sure,” he teases with a cheeky smile. You laugh softly, rolling your eyes. It may have been your idea to pull an all-nighter, but he happily agreed that it would be fun. You didn’t even have to try to convince him.

“I’m serious,” you say with a laugh, leaning forward slightly, “I don’t know what I’d do if I never met you.” Your voice is softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. You met Buck purely by chance, and you still think it’s a miracle that he took interest in you, despite him thinking the exact same thing about you.

“I’d be looking for you,” he says after a moment, shrugging as if it’s that simple. And to him, it is. 

Your eyes soften, and your head tilts to the side as your throat suddenly gets tight with your growing emotions.

“For me?” you ask in a teasing, yet slightly disbelieving tone, and he shrugs again with a nod. There’s no hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

“I’d be looking for someone who makes me happy, and who knows what I need without me even having to think to ask, and who is so beautiful that I can’t even believe that they’re with me. So, yeah, you.” You smile, feeling your face heat up. You can practically feel the love radiating from the deepest part of him and into your chest, and while your entire body suddenly feels warm, your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Suddenly, you’re not so tired anymore.

“I’d be looking for you, too,” you reply, feeling tears prick your eyes as you lean forward and let your forehead rest against his. Buck has to keep a sliver of his mind occupied on not putting his hands on you, no matter how much he wants to feel your soft skin under his fingers. He wishes he washed his hands before coming over to you, but he wouldn’t have dared to let your hand stay raised in the air longer than a split second, just like he wouldn’t dare to part from you right now.

“Yeah?” he whispers, breathing in the faint scent of your body wash now that he’s so close. He wants to touch you so bad, and his self-restraint is wearing thin.

“Mhm. Except maybe without the snoring. I’ve never heard anyone that sleeps so loud.” You match his tone, letting out a soft laugh as he suddenly pulls his face back with a scoff, his brow raised and a smirk growing on his lips.

“Really? Because I seem to remember getting a text a few days ago saying that someone thought it was too quiet to sleep while I was at work,” he challenges, his eyes moving down to your lips for a second before moving back up to meet your gaze, the smug smirk still plastered to his face as you fight back a smile.

“I sent that in a moment of weakness,” you argue quietly, pursing your lips to stop the grin from making its way onto your face.

“Hey, come on, don’t pretend you don’t love it,” he continues, his hands now raised off of the counter and hanging in the air. They’re dangerously close to your waist; if he could touch you, he’d be tempted to tickle your sides to see that gorgeous smile grace your face, but he holds back. Instead, they just remain frozen, almost able to feel the warmth radiating from your soft body.

“I plead the fifth,” you tell him, reaching down and grabbing his wrists. You saw them out of the corner of your eye, full of dough and dangerously close to your pajama top, and the last thing you want to do is go upstairs and change.

You hold his wrists out between your bodies, and all Buck does is chuckle, rolling his eyes and murmuring a soft “brat” before leaning in and catching your lips in an intoxicating kiss. 

In the heat of the moment, you let go of Buck’s wrists, instead grabbing onto his hoodie and pulling him closer to you while your legs wrap around his waist, and he lets his hands go up to your cheeks. Neither of you notice at first, despite the sweet smell of brown sugar filling your nostrils, and he deepens the kiss, letting his lips work in tandem with yours as he savours the feel and taste of your mouth on his. 

Your noses brush against each other as you tilt your heads, and a low hum escapes Buck’s throat as his tongue meets yours when you part your lips. All you can focus on is each other as the oven beeps behind you, signalling that it’s time to put your cookies in, and Buck’s stubble scratches your face in a way that makes your head spin. You’re pretty sure the fire alarm could go off right now, and you still wouldn’t part from him.

You finally have to pull away to catch your breath, and when you do, you finally notice that your cheeks are now sticky. You giggle softly, and you can’t bring yourself to be upset with Buck about it. Not when he just kissed you like his life depended on it.

“Finish my cookies, Buckley,” you whisper after a moment of looking into each other's eyes, and then he finally pulls away from you, immediately missing the feeling of your thick thighs wrapped around him.

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, then dumps the chocolate chips into the mixture before mixing, humming in approval when they’re fully combined.

You take this time to wash the dough off your skin; not bothering to go upstairs to actually wash your face, rather merely using a wet paper towel over the sink to wipe off the residue. You know you’ll regret it later, but right now, you wouldn’t dream of being that far away from Buck. Not when the soft light from the tv mixes with the overhead oven light, and the soft sound coming from the credits of the movie envelopes the main floor of Buck’s loft and makes you feel so safe and calm.

When the cookies are in the oven, Buck helps raise you back up onto your spot on the counter, then makes himself at home between your legs, wrapping his arms around your plush middle and resting his head comfortably on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his shoulders immediately, letting him melt into you as you wait for the timer. The steady feeling of his breath on your skin makes you feel even more at ease, if at all possible.

You don’t talk for those 10 minutes; you just bask in each other's presence. It’s past 3am now, you’re sure of it, but neither of you care. All you care about is how good it feels to be in Buck’s arms, and to know that you’ve found someone to bake cookies with in the middle of the night, just because you felt like it. Someone to bake cookies for you despite being so tired. Just because he loves you so deeply.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[gf2bellamy]

first of all, i'd like to say i adore your work! true works of art!😍

i'd like to read something with maybe popular!reader and nerd!spence? like they're in high school (let's assume reid is normal age) and no one (especially her popular friends) understands why reader is friends with this nerd but she just loves hanging out with him? i don't have much of an idea for this story, i trust you completely!

astronomy — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: highschool au, mention of bullies, reader's friend's don't like spencer a/n: haiiii !!!! i hope you like this <3 it's definitely not something i'm used to at all but i loved writing it so so so much <33

You leaned against the row of lockers with your friends, half-listening to their chatter. Your eyes kept drifting toward the door of Spencer’s AP Chemistry class, waiting for the moment he’d step into the hallway.

The classroom door swung open, and there he was, tall, tousled hair, messenger bag slung over one shoulder, already lost in thought as he shuffled toward his locker. “I’ll be right back,” you murmured to your friends, not even waiting for their responses before slipping away. Spencer was already spinning the combination to his locker when you reached him. You tapped his shoulder lightly. He turned, and his face lit up the second he saw you.

“Hi, Spencer.”

“Hi,” he breathed, his smile widening. Then his eyes flicked downward, catching on the book in your hand. His entire posture shifted, shoulders straightening, fingers twitching like he was resisting the urge to snatch it from you.“Oh, is that—”

“Yes, yes,” you cut in, grinning as you held it out. “I got it. Pulled some strings.” By strings, of course, you meant batting your lashes at the nervous sophomore working the library desk until he caved and let you check out the reserved copy of this book , a book Spencer had been raving about for weeks, one the school only had a single, notoriously hard-to-get first edition of.

Spencer took the book carefully. His thumb brushed over the worn spine, and when he looked back up at you, his expression was so openly awed it made your stomach flip. “You remembered,” he said softly.

“Of course I did.” You nudged his shoulder with yours. “You’ve been talking about it for ages. I told you I’d get it for you.”

For a moment, Spencer just stared at you. Then, softly : “Thank you. Seriously. Thank you.” You grinned, adjusting the strap of your backpack. “You’re welcome.”

A beat of silence passed, before you blurted, “Do you wanna have lunch together?”

It was Monday, which meant two whole days since you’d last seen him. Two days too long. You’d missed the way his eyes lit up when he rambled about obscure theories, the way his nose scrunched when someone mentioned pseudoscience. Spencer’s gaze flickered from your face to the cluster of your friends behind you. His fingers tightened around the book. “Uh…”

You followed his glance but didn’t acknowledge their raised eyebrows or the way one of them fake-coughed “nerd” under their breath. Instead, you leaned in, voice conspiratorial. “It’s pizza day. You like pizza.”

He swallowed, hesitating. You could practically see the calculations running through his head, risk of social humiliation versus reward of your company. Your confidence wavered. “Or… we could just hang out in the library.” The offer came out quieter than you’d intended.

“No, no—it’s fine.” He straightened abruptly, as if steeling himself. “I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Relief washed over you. “Okay, great! I’ll be right back, and then we can go.” You squeezed his shoulder before turning toward your friends, missing the way Spencer’s breath hitched at the contact.He watched you walk away, heart pounding.

It didn’t make sense. You, effortlessly bright, the kind of person who could talk to anyone, were choosing him. Again. And your friends? They definitely didn’t approve. From across the hallway, their stares burned into him, lips curled in barely veiled disdain. But then you glanced back over your shoulder, grinning like he was the only person in the room, and Spencer thought he could endure a hundred judgmental glares if it meant keeping that smile aimed at him.

You returned to Spencer’s side without a word about your friends’ disapproval. Their whispers, “Why do you hang out with him?”, had long since faded into background noise. The answer was too vast to put into words they’d understand anyway.

Spencer was lovely. That was the simplest way to describe him. Lovely in the way his mind raced ahead of his words, in the way his eyes lit up when he explained things to you without making you feel dumb, in the way he never quite realized how extraordinary he was. You adored him.

“Ready?” you asked as he shoved the last of his notebooks into his backpack. He nodded quickly, adjusting his grip on the book you’d given him. Without thinking, you looped your arm through his, guiding him toward the cafeteria.

Some perks of being labeled “popular” meant you could weave through the lunch line quickly, a quick smile at the cafeteria lady, two slices of pizza snagged before the rush, and, most importantly, one of the last chocolate chip cookies tucked onto your tray. Spencer loved them, but he never got one; by the time he was brave enough to enter the cafeteria, they were always gone.

You didn’t linger in the noisy hall. Instead, you guided him straight back outside to the secluded bench near the oak tree, where no one else sat. Too far from the action. Perfect. Spencer sat on one side, you on the other, the small table between you.

Spencer carefully broke the cookie in half. He handed you one half with a shy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Here," he murmured. "Thank you." you smiled happily. You couldn't even pretend to deny his offering. These cookies were simply too tasty. The chocolate melted on your tongue as you leaned forward, elbows on the wood.

"So what's the book about?" you asked around your mouthful, feigning innocence. You already knew, you'd spent twenty minutes last week listening to him whisper-explain it in the library whenyou were both supposed to be studying.

Spencer's entire posture transformed instantly. "Oh!" His voice lifted an octave as he wiped crumbs from his fingers. "It's about observational astronomy , not astrology, that's completely different, with detailed celestial maps for the northern hemisphere." His hands sketched constellations in the air between you. "I finally saved enough to get a decent telescope. I was going to pick it up after school today."

The way his eyes lit up made you feel all fuzzy on the inside. You rested your chin in your palm, openly admiring how his hair flopped with each enthusiastic nod, how his cookie sat forgotten as he explained the difference between refracting and reflecting telescopes.

"So you're going to hunt for constellations from your backyard?" you asked, watching a flush creep up his neck. You liked to think it was from your stare.

“Mhm.” he nodded, taking a piece of his pizza.

A crumb lingered on Spencer's lower lip until your thumb brushed it away, the fleeting contact sending an electric current through both of you. His breath hitched as you withdrew your hand, pretending not to notice how his pupils dilated.

"That sounds fun," you said, and the genuine warmth in your voice made Spencer's chest constrict in the sweetest way. The pizza slice in his hand became suddenly fascinating as he fought the goosebumps rising along his arms.

"Do you have any plans for today?" The question came out slightly strangled. He focused very hard on not dropping his food when your fingers accidentally grazed his while reaching for your drink.

You sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, the sunlight catching your earrings. "My friends wanted to go shopping, but I still have to finish my physics homework for tomorrow." Your nose scrunched adorably. "I don't get physics."

"I can help you. If you want." The words tumbled out before he could stop them, too eager, too revealing. His neck burned when your eyes snapped up to meet his.

"Yeah?" Hope colored your voice.

Spencer nodded so vigorously his hair flopped into his eyes. "Absolutely. I mean, it's just—the equations are really quite logical once you—" He stopped himself before launching into a full lecture.

You grinned, resting your chin in your palm. "What about your date with your astronomy book?" The teasing lilt in your voice made his stomach flip.

"Oh, I can do that tomorrow." The immediate response betrayed him completely. He'd push back his carefully planned stargazing schedule, rearrange his color-coded study plan, cancel anything, if it meant more time with you. You studied him for a second.

You'd spent countless hours together at school , sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in shared classes (his bullies mysteriously disappearing after you started occupying the seat beside him), trading notes in the library, sharing lunches at this secluded bench. But he’d never invited you to his house, and you never forced him to do so.

"We can go buy your telescope," you suggested carefully, tracing the condensation on your water bottle. "And then you can come over to my place if you want. Can you see the stars from there too?" Casual. Giving him every possible out.

He'd been to your house exactly once, when you'd "accidentally" left your biology textbook in his locker and needed it to study. That afternoon had replayed in his mind more times than he'd admit.

Spencer's fingers twitched toward yours before he caught himself. "Your balcony faces west, right? We should be able to see Cygnus after sunset." The technical details spilled out automatically, masking how profoundly the invitation affected him. "I mean, if that's — yes. I'd like that. Very much."

"Great." Your smile outshone the afternoon sun, earrings catching the light as you bounced slightly in your seat.

Spencer still couldn't comprehend why someone like you would choose someone like him, not when you could have your pick of the school's social elite. But in moments like this, with your knee brushing his under the picnic table and your eyes sparkling brighter than any celestial body he'd ever studied, he found he didn't care about the why. Only that you did.

The telescope purchase became an adventure in itself. You'd insisted on helping him carry the tripod ("It's not that heavy!" you lied, struggling.), listening with attention as he explained everything he knew about astronomy. Not once did you mention the three increasingly irritated texts from your friends, their shopping plans abandoned.

At your house, physics homework dissolved into stargazing when the sun set. Notebooks sat forgotten as Spencer's hands trembled slightly while adjusting the focus knob, acutely aware of your warmth beside him on the balcony.

"See those three bright stars?" His finger traced the Summer Triangle through the light-polluted sky, his sleeve brushing your shoulder. "That's Vega, Deneb, and Altair - each from different constellations but-"

"Making their own pattern together," you finished softly, closer than he'd realized. When he turned, your faces were mere inches apart, your breath mingling with his in the cooling night air. Spencer found himself cataloging this new constellation of sensations: the warmth of your arm against his, the quiet gasps you made when you spotted Vega, the way your laughter sounded different under the stars.

"Think you can manage carrying this home?" you asked later, fingers lingering on the telescope case as he packed up. The question was transparent, neither of you ready for the night to end.

"I'll be fine," he assured, though his voice wavered when you stepped into his space. The hug surprised him, the sudden press of your body against his, the way your head fit perfectly beneath his chin. But the kiss you pressed to his cheek ignited something far more profound than surprise. Time suspended as your lips lingered against his flushed skin, long enough for him to catch the faint vanilla scent of your lip balm.

When you pulled away, the streetlights caught the shy smile you tried to hide. "Text me when you get home?" you murmured, fingers toying with the strap of his messenger bag. Spencer could only nod, his usual eloquence lost to the pounding of his heart.

The telescope suddenly seemed weightless as he walked home, his free hand occasionally rising to touch the spot where your lips had been.

[mihii-i]

idk if you write for more than one character at a time, but can i please request the male hashira x gn reader headcanons for when their crush sits on their lap? mostly fluff maybe slight spice? thanks

when you sit on their lap hcs

Pairing(s): male hashira x gn!reader (except muichiro)

CW: sfw, slightly suggestive, gn!reader, lap sitting, very suggestive on tengen’s part, slight mention of thigh riding and grinding

A/N: again, I am so sorry this took awhile because I was on vacation I will be working on what’s in my inbox now <33

Gyomei is weirdly calm about it

Probably because he’s blind or cause he doesn’t have a hard time keeping his composure

He’ll adjust himself so you have a more comfortable position to sit in

Keeps his arms wrapped around your waist or torso to help you balance on his thigh or wherever you’re sitting down

Rests his chin onto your head occasionally

Sometimes forgets to tell you to get off, and you guys just remain in that position for a long time just talking like normal

Another hashira would have to see you two and point it out in order for you to finally get off

Gyomei would apologize if necessary and let you off calmly

“Y/N, I enjoy you sitting on me, we should have more conversations like this.”

Sanemi on the other hand is a little more aggressive…

When you sit down on his lap, he’s completely flustered, his face bright red and hot

He’d yell at you to get off, even though he made no effort to get you off

We know you enjoy it Sanemi it’s okay

If you got off, he’d growl under his breath and try to scoot himself closer to you until you sat back on him

If you stay on his lap, he averts his eyes from yours, and grits his teeth while blushing furiously

After some time of awkward silence of him holding your waist and you cuddling him in his lap, a thread basically snaps inside him, and he pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck

Sanemi would plant your hips down using his bare hands, and press his teeth to your neck, making sure there’s no space between the two of you

“You got me all hot and bothered, Y/N. Now take responsibility you damn brat.”

Rengoku would have a fairly normal, but excited reaction

He would laugh loudly and hug you tightly, smiling up/down at you as you’re situated on his lap

He allow you to rest your head onto his shoulder in a loving manner

Bro literally can’t stop smiling the whole time you’re on his lap

You two just sit there in a joyful manner, hugging each other tightly while laughing and smiling casually

Rengoku definitely holds onto you as tight as he can after atleast 10 minutes of cuddling

He just can’t get enough, you’re too cute

Probably also presses an overwhelming amount of kisses to your cheek every 20-30 seconds

You can literally feel him smiling against your skin as he kisses you

“Y/N! We shall do this again after our next mission!”

Tengen is definitely the most suggestive and flirtatious with this

As soon as you take a seat on his thigh, he smirks and pulls you into him without hesitation

His arms are locked around your waist as he leans into you with a depraved expression

Constant teasing while you’re on him, no doubt about it

Like, he kisses you everywhere accessible, and grips your waist tighter

When you’re on his thigh, he moves his thigh up and down a little, and helps move your waist back and forth against him

Basically allows you to grind on him if you’re okay with it

Teases you by leaning back and placing his arms to rest against a nearby surface as you keep your movements against him up

“Come on Y/N, don’t keep me waiting.”

Giyuu is quite calm and unfazed when you sit on his lap, similar to Gyomei

He just sits back, and occasionally rests his hands onto your waist or shoulders

Poor guy hasn’t had much affection, and is hella disliked so he just stays quiet the whole time

But, he does hold you tightly. It may not be something huge, but you can feel his affection and love in his embrace

Rests his head onto your shoulder

His breathing is calm and slow against your skin as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, with his chin situated between your shoulder and collarbone.

If you try to get up, he’ll let you, but not before asking you to hold him a bit longer

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll smile against you if he feels comfortable with your body pressed against his on his lap

“Y/N…I love you. Don’t leave me, please.”

Obanai remains silent, but it’s no secret that he’s flustered.

He looks away bashfully and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to avoid eye contact with you since it’s too embarrassing for him

He sighs heavily, trying to maintain his composure with you literally seated on his lap

His face is tinted a bright red, not even his bandaged mouth can hide the heavy blush dusting his cheeks

When you look over, you can literally see Kaburamaru giving Obanai a “you’re a fucking pussy” type stare

I guess that causes him to finally look at you and make eye contact

When he does gain some sort of confidence, he rests his hands onto your shoulders, and eventually wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you closer

He pulls you a little too close- putting you chest to chest with him, and his arms locked around you tightly and squeezing you

If you point out the fact that he’s hugging you too tight, he’ll get embarrassed and quietly apologize, before loosening his grip around you

Just let the man hug you and tough it out okay

“I- Y/N…I’m at a loss for words..?”

A/N: hehheehhe did y’all miss me I’m back <3

I’ll come clean and admit- although I came back recently, I have been writing shit for myself the past week or so?

OKAY DONT BLAME ME I NEED TO THERE ARE NO GOOD FANFICS THAT ARE WELL WRITTEN OR HAVE ANY EMOTION I NEEDA TAKE MATTERS IJTO MY OWN HANDS LMFAOAOS 😭

[girlkisser13]

being married to bruce wayne would include

• galas, charities, balls, etc. become more a part of your life than you probably ever wanted them to be.

• once you two officially become a couple, you become gotham’s "it" couple. whether you want to or not.

• in the press, the two of you are often depicted as gotham royalty.

• even before the two of you start dating, you swear you feel someone's presence at night whenever you walk home from work.

• it wasn't until a mugger attempted to steal your purse that you finally learned where that feeling of being watched had been coming from.

• when the dark knight told you to be mindful of your surroundings and to hurry home before swooping away into the night, you could only nod with widened eyes.

• you didn’t say anything until you got home, to be honest, you geeking out: it’s not every day that someone gets to meet "the batman".

• you gleefully call your boyfriend about it. he doesn’t answer it until later, but you can hear a smirk in his voice as he responds to you fangirling.

• eventually, you find out about his identity on accident.

• as expected, you’re a little upset. someone you were romantically involved with was masquerading around town dressed like every night was halloween, getting into dangerous situations.

• after the two of you talk about it, you begin to understand why he does it and while you may not necessarily agree with some of his more controversial methods, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride that he’s putting everything at risk just to make sure what happened to him doesn’t happen to anyone else.

• alfred always reports to you first whenever something happens to bruce, knowing how much he truly means to you.

• you’re the one he listens to the most (even more than alfred) when it comes to what he should be doing whether it be a complicated mission or something as simple as eating a much needed meal.

• most of the time you would find yourself waiting at a restaurant for an hour before he would text you that he can’t make it because he’s being held up.

• when he does show up, he’s late, he looks like a mess, and he greets you with a lop-sided smile and half-lidded eyes. and you melt because you remember that he did choose you and you do love him.

• bruce’s absence is always outweighed by his affection. he loves touching you even if it’s just your shoulders or your fingers or your elbows. he always finds a way to be close to you when you’re together.

• he’s always trying to make up for the lost time with you by getting you expensive gifts and trips, only for you to reassure him that he doesn’t need to do all this.

• you’re always able to tell when he’s had a particularly rough night. his usual silence feels different; heavier.

• he becomes a lot more handsy with you, more affectionate. as if you’re the last flower in a prized garden and he never noticed until now.

• if you’re asleep by the time he gets back, you may get woken up by him caressing your cheek, rubbing a thumb over your hand, or him putting his big arms around you to pull you in close.

• one of your favorite things though is definitely seeing the family. most of the time you see alfred and always try to tease recipes out of him which expertly deflects.

• whenever the bat kids are at the manor, he invites you because they love you and he knows you love them too.

• dick constantly flirts with you and teases you and bruce. you love to play along with him because it makes bruce very uncomfortable.

• he finally proposes to you after three years of the kids telling him to do so. you obviously say yes.

• the two of you decide to have a small, private ceremony at the manor. friends and family only.

• bruce 100% cries as soon as he sees you walk down the aisle in your wedding dress.

• alfred volunteers to be the wedding planner, because he always knew that you would be the future mrs. wayne. <33

[jennxxe]

You didn’t see shit.

pairing — erik campbell x fem! reader

summary — you’re julia’s best friend

warnings — cursing, making out, getting caught by ✨bobby✨, erik bribes him to stfu tho

a/n — i have one more idea for an erik ff after this one and then i will do billy and carter from fd1 <33 yall are free to message me requests for characters tho, js put a summary of what you want the fanfic to look like. all final destination characters are welcome!!

You were halfway through laughing at something Julia said when Erik sauntered into the room like he wasn’t the human equivalent of a traffic violation. That cocky smirk already plastered across his stupidly punchable (and unfortunately hot) face.

“Damn,” he muttered, eyes dragging from your thighs to your lips like he was trying to memorize your measurements by sheer force of will. “Didn’t know Julia had hot friends. You always look like that?”

Julia groaned instantly. “Erik, no.”

He leaned on the kitchen counter like he owned the place, tossing an apple from hand to hand like he was being casual, but everyone knew better. His voice dropped into that low but casual tone he used when he was being deliberately inappropriate. “I’m just saying. If I knew this one was around, I would’ve stayed home more often.”

Julia’s face scrunched like she’d eaten a lemon. “She’s not interested.”

“You sure?” He glanced at you, grin slow and lazy. “Doesn’t look like she’s complaining.”

You fought the smile tugging at your lips. Erik caught it, winking at you. Julia stood between you two now, arms crossed. “Literally go die.”

Erik snorted. “Can’t. I’m the cool sibling. I’ve got plot armor.”

Julia threw a spoon at him. He caught it midair, didn’t blink. Still smirking. That smirk that said: I definitely mean it.

Later that day, Julia had gone upstairs to grab something later that day, promising she’d “be back in two seconds,” which was apparently all the time Erik needed to find his way back in your personal space.

He leaned forward, palms flat on the counter on either side of you, his breath hitting the curve of your neck like something deliberate.

“I’m gonna say something,” he said lowly, his voice rough like it’d just rolled out of bed, “and you’re gonna tell me to fuck off.”

You turned slowly, finding him closer than you expected, close enough to see all the tiny healed scars from the piercings he changed his mind about and took out.

“Didn’t Julia already tell you to leave me alone?” you asked, but your voice betrayed you, just a little more curious than cold.

“She did,” he said. “But I’ve got this thing where I don’t listen to her.”

“Oh, shocking.”

“Look, you’re her best friend. You’re sweet. Smart. Probably way too good for the kind of thoughts I’ve been having since you walked in.”

Your breath caught, barely but enough for him to notice. His grin curved, slow and shameless.

“See?” he said softly. “You felt that too.”

You shook your head, stepping back until your hip hit the counter. He followed, didn’t touch just looked. Held your eyes like he was trying to find the flicker of permission. Like he was testing the line to see if you’d let him cross it.

“And what if I told her?” you asked.

He laughed, one of those careless ones that made your stomach flip in a good way. “You won’t,” he said, certain. “Not unless you want her to know how long you let me stand here.”

You exhaled, smiling a bit. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still not walking away.”

He leaned in, slow enough to give you time to stop him—which you didn’t—and brushed his lips against your jaw, just a ghost of contact. Barely anything. But it burned.

“You tell me when to stop,” he murmured. “Or you don’t.” Before you could answer, footsteps pounded on the stairs.

Julia.

He pulled back in an instant, grabbing a slice of pizza off the counter like nothing had happened. Smirking to himself like he’d won something. And when Julia walked back in and rolled her eyes at him, he just said, through a mouthful of crust. “We were just talking about you.”

You decided to sleep over for whatever reason that night, too lazy to walk back home and Julia gave you her bed.

…

Jk, she would never, she made you sleep on the couch like she was punishing you for indulging her brother.

The living room was half-dark, lit only by the blue glow of the muted TV and the tiny strip of moonlight bleeding in through the blinds. You were on the couch, curled under a blanket, phone long forgotten at your side. Tank top loose, one strap slipping just slightly. Legs stretched out, bare and warm against the worn leather cushions.

You hear someone coming downstairs and, of course, it has to be Erik. No shirt, all tattoos on display. Hair tousled like he hadn’t even tried to sleep. Those damn silver piercings glinting faintly in the dark.

He stood at the edge of the couch, eyes skating down the length of your legs without shame, his jaw slack with something both lazy and playful.

"You're in my spot," he said finally, voice lower than usual, like the hour required secrecy but his intent didn’t.

You didn’t move. "You weren’t down here."

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t planning to be.”

He dropped onto the other end of the couch like he owned it and stretched his legs out until his foot casually nudged yours. The contact was small, insignificant. But he didn’t take it back. He just let it linger.

You shifted under the blanket. He watched that too.

“You always stare like that?” she muttered, trying to keep her voice level.

His head tilted, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, muscles lazy, confident. “Only when I wanna see what you’ll do about it.”

There was a beat of silence. Heavy. Tense. Loaded.

Then he moved slowly, like the moment had been waiting on him, until he was closer. Close enough for his knee to bump your thigh. Close enough that she could smell him, faint cologne and the stubborn smoke that always clung to his skin. His fingers ghosted along the blanket near your hip, barely brushing fabric, but intentional.

You should’ve shifted away. Should’ve told him to back off. Should’ve said Julia’s upstairs. But your body betrayed you… okay, it didn’t, he was hot as fuck.

He leaned in, slow enough to be deliberate, lips brushing just shy of your jaw. His breath hit warm and even across your skin, his voice a whisper now.

“You gonna tell me to leave?”

Your fingers curled into the blanket, tighter.

He chuckled under his breath, low and full of mischief. His hand came up, brushing your thigh through the blanket, fingers spread like he needed to feel just how warm you were under there.

“You’re real quiet now,” he said, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “That mean I can stay?”

Your breath caught. And then you nodded. He dipped closer. His mouth brushed the line of your collarbone, lips soft, breath hot, his hand sliding just beneath the blanket now.

The couch groaned softly beneath you as you shifted, and your knee bumped his thigh, bare skin on bare skin. That was all it took for Erik to settle his hand at your waist, pulling gently, testing you.

And he kissed you. Not all at once. He started near your throat, barely-there kisses that felt like secrets, like confessions. Then up along your jaw, near the corner of your mouth, just hovering, giving you time to pull away.

You didn’t.

So he claimed your lips like he meant it.

It wasn’t gentle. It was heat and hesitation, all twisted up. Teeth. Tongue. The press of his body against yours, as if he’d been holding himself back all night and finally got permission to start losing control.

And even in the middle of that kiss, Erik smirked against your mouth. Because he knew he was winning.

He eventually pushed you back, climbing on top of you. You were soft under him, lips flushed, eyes dazed, that little noise you made when his teeth caught your lower lip nearly making him lose the last ounce of restraint he had. Erik wasn’t good at waiting. Not when he wanted something. And right now?

He wanted you under him, under that stupid blanket, moaning his name like it meant something.

Your legs shifted to either side of his hips, his hand sliding under the hem of your tank top, palm hot on your stomach as your breath hitched. You tugged him closer by the waistband of his pants, and he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he laughed through it.

“Fuck, if you keep doin’ that—”

Footsteps.

The stairs creaked.

Erik froze. You froze.

And then—

“…Hey?”

Erik looked up like he’d been shot. "No."

Bobby stood in the hallway in basketball shorts and a hoodie, hair a mess, holding a half-eaten Pop-Tart and blinking like he just walked into a war zone.

Erik was still on top of you. Your tank top was wrinkled halfway up your chest.

Bobby just blinked again.

“...Are you guys wrestling or something?”

You scrambled back, yanking the blanket up to your chin like you were about to enter witness protection. Erik nearly tripped over his own legs as he got up, adjusting his waistband like it owed him money.

Bobby squinted. “Wait. Is that Julia’s—”

“NOPE!” Erik bellowed, launching himself across the room so fast he almost tripped. “Bobby. Bobby, look at me. Right here. Look in my eyes. You didn’t see shit.”

Bobby backed up, Pop-Tart still in hand, eyes wide. “Dude, I literally just came in for water, what the hell—”

“Shut up,” Erik hissed, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. “Listen to me. I will buy you so many protein shakes, you don’t even know.”

“What were you—were you guys hooking up?!” Bobby’s voice cracked halfway into the question.

Erik slapped a hand over his mouth. “She fell. I was catching her. With my mouth. Shut up.”

Bobby made a strangled wheeze. “Jules is gonna kill you—”

“No she’s not,” Erik said quickly. “Because you’re not gonna tell her. Because you love me. Because I gave you your first beer. Because I didn’t tell Mom when you got that illegal tattoo that looks like a bruised banana.”

Bobby was still blinking, still confused, but Erik could see the cogs turning, gears clicking into place.

“Are you gonna bribe me?” Bobby asked, hopeful.

“Yes. I will bribe you so hard, you’re gonna forget you even have a sister.”

There was a long beat of silence.

Then Bobby shrugged.

“Okay. I want the good chicken nuggets. And your Netflix password.”

“Done.”

Bobby beamed. “Love you, bro.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Erik shoved him back toward the stairs. “Don’t come back for water. Dehydrate.”

As soon as Bobby disappeared upstairs, Erik turned back to the couch, hair disheveled, still a little breathless, and fully flushed from the chaos.

You were still under the blanket, staring at him like he was insane.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, flopping down beside you again.

“You bribed your brother with chicken nuggets.”

“I bribed him with silence and loyalty, thank you very much.”

You snorted, and he smirked, his fingers already sliding under the blanket again.

“Now,” he said, voice low and smug, “where were we?”