#I’m SO. TIRED. OF. MARKETING. TEXTS

[sidhewrites]

I spent a couple days last week researching and compiling tcpa guidelines since I work in text marketing and it’s really fun replying to unsolicited texts with whatever violation they’ve committed. I’m never outright rude because I know it’s the lowest paid workers who work the phones but man.

[synity]

What Are We?

(Jeon Wonwoo x FemReader)

*angst, slow burn, romance, Emotional, Unspoken Love, Emotional Repression, Jealousy, Confusion, Heartbreak, Emotional Angs Healing Coming-of-Aget slice of life, Domestic Fluff Celebrity AU*

idol!Jeon!Wonwoo x BackDancer!Yn

The truth is: no one ever said anything.

There were no love confessions, no sticky declarations written on Post-its, no impulsive kisses in the rain. Instead, there were shared silences comfortable, long, meaningful. Glances that lingered a little too long to be casual. Brush of hands that neither of you pulled away from. Warmth in the passenger seat of his car. Quiet footsteps echoing into midnight halls after practice.

Wonwoo wasn’t your boyfriend. But he was yours. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You met him when you were accepted as a dancer for SEVENTEEN’s promotions. The long nights of rehearsals, shared sweat, exhaustion, and tension quickly built a bond between you and the members. But no one as much as him.

Wonwoo, with his quiet intensity. Wonwoo, with his slow smiles and warm palms. Wonwoo, who held the door open, who carried your bag without asking, who waited until you were done tying your shoes before leaving practice. Who invited you to late dinners, who whispered your name like a secret he didn't want anyone else to hear.

At some point, his hoodie found its way into your wardrobe. His Spotify playlist lived on your phone. His scent lingered on your pillows. And your toothbrush lived beside his in the dorm.

Still, not once did he call you “mine.”

You didn’t push it. You cooked for him instead spicy ramyeon when he looked too tired, grilled chicken after dance practice. You packed leftovers and texted him to make sure he ate them. And in return, he hugged you from behind at the stove, cheek pressed to your shoulder. Sometimes he kissed the back of your neck. Sometimes your cheek. Occasionally, your temple.

Never your lips.

There were days you thought he’d say it. Days when the air was so thick with longing that you could barely breathe.

The night he brought you your favorite dessert, unprompted. The time he fell asleep with his head in your lap, fingers gripping your shirt like a child. The moment he caught your wrist gently and slipped on a matching bracelet with his initials carved inside.

He never said it. So you didn’t ask.

One Thursday, Mingyu invited you to spend the day with him. He’d gotten a new camera and wanted to film a short vlog, capturing little moments for fun.

You agreed why not? Mingyu was your best friend, loud and warm and always easy to be around. You visited a food market together, tried strawberry tteok, made funny faces into the lens. He even filmed you licking whipped cream off your finger, teasing you for your “messy mouth.”

You didn’t think it mattered.

Until that evening, when you posted a carousel of pictures you and Mingyu smiling in the sunset, you wearing his cap, the two of you laughing like kids and got nothing but silence from Wonwoo.

No like. No comment. No call.

You checked your messages. Nothing.

Later that night, you showed up at the dorm with a box of fried chicken and soju, hoping he’d be in the kitchen like usual. He wasn’t.

You walked to his room. Knocked.

“Wonwoo?”

“Come in.”

He was there lying on his bed, hoodie over his face.

You sat beside him. “I brought food.”

He hummed. Didn’t lift the hoodie.

“You okay?” you asked gently.

Another hum. A shrug.

Your heart sank a little. “You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You didn’t reply to my texts.”

“I saw you were busy.”

Silence.

You sighed. “It was just Mingyu—”

“I know,” he said. “You don’t need to explain.”

But he wouldn’t look at you.

You reached out and peeled the hoodie from his face, brushing his bangs away. “You always look at me when I talk to you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours and there it was again. That look. That devastating, quiet affection that screamed what he wouldn’t say aloud.

He pulled you into his chest without another word.

That night, he stayed.

But you still didn’t kiss.

A week later.

You were in your apartment, drowsy from dance practice. Wonwoo had shown up late, like always, shoes toeing off by the door, arms opening as if by instinct when he saw you.

You curled up on the couch, his arm around you, your fingers intertwined.

Sleep pulled at your body warm and safe and quiet.

But at 2:11 a.m., your throat was dry. You stirred.

His side of the bed was empty.

The balcony door was open.

You rose silently, blanket still clinging to your shoulders, and stepped into the cool air.

Wonwoo stood there, shirt wrinkled, hair tousled, hands wrapped around the railing as he stared into the city lights like he didn’t belong to them.

You padded over, heart already aching. “Wonwoo?”

He didn’t turn. Just sighed.

You touched his arm gently. “Hey… are you okay?”

Still no answer.

Then: His voice, low. Tired. Cracking at the edges.

“…What are we?”

The words split the air like thunder. Small. Quiet. But loud enough to silence the world in your ears.

You stood frozen beside him, your hand still resting on his arm.

He didn’t look at you.

Not yet.

He was afraid.

And you were too.

But you’d asked yourself that same question so many times it was a familiar pain now like pressing on a bruise just to feel something.

“Wonwoo…” you whispered. You tried to smile, but it wobbled. “We’re friends, right?”

His knuckles went white against the railing.

A bitter laugh escaped him quiet, breathless.

“Friends don’t hold each other the way I hold you.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it.

He finally turned to you. His gaze was tired. Not because of sleep, but from holding it in for so long.

“Friends don’t kiss each other’s foreheads every time they drop each other off.”

His voice cracked.

“They don’t sleep in each other’s beds. They don’t cuddle under one blanket. They don’t… look at each other like they’re afraid to blink.”

You looked down.

He stepped closer, hands clenched at his sides. “Do you know what it does to me when I see you laughing with Mingyu?”

Your head snapped up. “Wonwoo—”

“I know he’s your best friend,” he said, quickly. “I know. I shouldn’t feel this way. But I do. I can’t help it.”

He stared at you like he wanted to memorize your face.

“I see him making you laugh. I see the way he looks at you. And I keep wondering… if he’ll say what I’m too much of a coward to say.”

The air was thick now.

“You’re not a coward,” you whispered.

“I am,” he said, softer. “Because I’ve wanted to tell you for months. That I’m in love with you. That you mean more to me than anyone else ever has. That you’re the only thing on my mind when I’m dancing, when I’m eating, when I’m on stage. It’s always you.”

Tears welled in your eyes.

“Wonwoo…”

He took a deep breath. “But you never said it either.”

Your silence was louder than anything.

Because he was right.

You never said it. Not once. And now he was saying it all at once, raw and trembling.

You tried to speak, but the words trembled. “I didn’t know if I could… if I should.”

His voice broke again. “Why?”

You hesitated. “Because we never set boundaries. We just… acted like we were something. And I didn’t want to ruin it by assuming more.”

His jaw tightened. “So we’ve both been in love with each other this whole time, and we’ve done nothing about it?”

Your heart was bleeding.

You nodded.

He exhaled a shaky breath and ran a hand down his face. “Y/N, I don’t want to be your almost anymore.”

You blinked, the first tear falling.

“I want to be the one who walks into the room and kisses you in front of everyone. I want to be the one who takes you home to my parents. I want to hold your hand in public, take stupid couple pictures, and buy you flowers just because it’s Wednesday.”

You were crying now, full and quiet.

“I want to stop pretending this is casual when it’s been everything to me.”

You opened your mouth.

And you finally said it.

“I love you, Wonwoo.”

The silence after was brief like the pause before a first kiss.

He looked at you, eyes filled with something you’d never seen before: relief. Heartbreak. Hope.

But the pain hadn’t passed yet.

He took a step back.

“But if you love me,” he said slowly, “then why do I still feel like I’m losing you?”

You froze.

“…What?”

He shook his head. “Every time I see you with someone else even if it’s Mingyu I feel like I’m being left behind. And I hate feeling like that. I hate feeling like loving you is supposed to be a secret.”

“Wonwoo—”

“No. I can’t keep doing this if we’re going to keep hiding behind excuses. If you love me, then be with me.”

You stared at him, lips parted.

And you whispered, voice shaking:

“I want to.”

“But?”

“I’m scared.”

He waited.

“What if this ruins everything?”

Wonwoo stepped forward again. “Then let it. Let it ruin everything else as long as I still have you.”

And you broke.

You launched into his arms, burying your face in his chest, his arms catching you like they were made to.

“I love you,” you sobbed. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took me so long.”

He kissed your head over and over and over.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

The morning after didn’t feel like a dream.

It felt real like bruises after a fall, like quiet after a storm.

You woke up in your bed, sunlight spilling onto the sheets, your limbs tangled with Wonwoo’s.

His chest rose and fell, his arm wrapped around you protectively, like he thought you’d disappear if he let go.

You didn’t move.

You didn’t want to.

Not yet.

Because today was going to hurt in ways neither of you expected.

In the dance studio, it was silent.

Not because people weren’t talking but because you and Wonwoo weren’t.

Mingyu watched you from across the room. Seungkwan did too.

Something felt different. Off. Off-kilter.

You smiled too little.

Wonwoo laughed too much.

And that’s how they knew.

He was hiding again.

You were retreating.

And all the little things that once made your relationship glow the glances, the touches, the whispers were gone.

Because now it was real.

And real was terrifying.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Wonwoo said one night, two weeks later.

You were packing up your bag after rehearsal, your muscles aching and your throat dry.

“No, I haven’t.”

“You haven’t texted me first in five days.”

You looked at him.

He looked tired. Like he hadn’t slept. Like your silence was gnawing at his ribs.

“I thought we said no more pretending,” he added softly.

You clutched your hoodie tighter around yourself. “I’m not pretending.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’m giving you space,” you said, quieter now. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I wanted you,” he said. “Not space.”

You sighed, looking away.

“Then say something,” he begged. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Your throat felt tight.

“What if this isn’t enough?” you asked.

Wonwoo blinked. “What?”

“What if us… this thing we have… what if it’s not enough to survive everything else? The schedules. The pressure. Our silence. What if it breaks us?”

He was quiet for a long time.

Then, “Then let it break us honestly. Loudly. Not like this.”

You finally met his eyes.

“I’m scared, Wonwoo.”

“So am I,” he whispered. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop fighting for you.”

A beat.

“Will you?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Because you didn’t know.

The following week, things got worse.

Wonwoo got sick.

And you weren’t there.

You’d promised to be, but you were too afraid. Too fragile. Too wrapped up in everything you were feeling.

So Mingyu stepped in.

He texted you after: He keeps asking for you, you know.

And still, you didn’t go.

Until one night, you stood outside his door with a plastic bag of tangerines, honey tea, and the soup you always made him.

You didn’t knock.

You didn’t ring the bell.

You just stood there frozen wondering if he was better off without you.

When the door opened without warning, you jumped.

Wonwoo stood there, in a hoodie and sweatpants, pale and groggy-eyed.

He blinked. “Y/N?”

You held up the bag, awkward. “I, um. I brought you soup.”

He stepped aside, letting you in without a word.

You sat on the couch. He sat beside you. You said nothing.

Until he spoke.

“I thought you stopped caring.”

Your chest tightened.

“I thought,” he continued, “you regretted everything you said that night.”

“I didn’t,” you said quickly.

“Then why didn’t you come?”

“Because I thought I was bad for you.”

Wonwoo blinked.

You swallowed. “I make things complicated. I pull away when things get hard. I think too much. Feel too much. I ruin everything I touch.”

Wonwoo stared at you for a long time.

Then he reached over, cupped your cheek, and whispered,

“Then let me be ruined.”

Tears blurred your vision.

“I don’t care if this is messy. I don’t care if it’s hard. I don’t care if it breaks us sometimes. I want you flaws, fears, doubts, all of it.”

You let out a shaky breath.

And finally, finally, you leaned in.

And kissed him.

A real kiss. Honest. Full. No silence. No pretending.

Just you and him.

Wonwoo pulled you into his lap, his arms around your waist, your hands in his hair.

You whispered against his mouth, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

One Month Later

The studio was quiet, the members gone.

You sat on the floor, your back against the wall, watching Wonwoo dance.

He smiled when he looked at you.

And you smiled back.

Things weren’t perfect.

But they were real.

You reached into your hoodie pocket and touched the matching bracelet the one he gave you months ago.

Wonwoo walked over, offered his hand.

You took it.

“Want to go home?” he asked.

You nodded.

And for the first time in a long time, the word “home” made sense.

Because it was him.

It was always him.

One Year Later

The night was soft. Quiet. The kind of peace that feels earned like a reward for the storm you survived.

You and Wonwoo sat on your balcony wrapped in a thick blanket. The summer breeze kissed your cheeks as you sipped on chilled white wine. His arm was around you, your head on his shoulder, your bodies swaying gently with the evening wind.

Downstairs, the lights in your shared apartment glowed warmly, and the gentle meows of Kiko your orange cat and Nicole your gray cat echoed faintly from the window you’d left open. They were probably curled on your bed, just like they always were.

Wonwoo turned his head slightly, placing a kiss to your temple.

"You know," he murmured, "this is where I want to stay forever."

You looked up at him, eyes twinkling, joking, "On the balcony?"

He chuckled, that deep, honey-coated laugh of his. "No, silly. With you. Like this. Always."

You smiled into his chest, your hand absentmindedly reaching for his. You felt something cold slide onto your palm.

You looked down.

It was a ring.

Your heart stopped.

"Wonwoo..."

“I was going to do it in a restaurant,” he said, nervous but smiling. “Make a big deal out of it. The music, the candles, the suit... But then I realized, the most ‘us’ place is right here. In our home. Where we healed. Where we grew.”

You blinked fast, trying not to cry.

“Y/N,” he continued, “I love you. For the way you make soup when I’m sick. For the way you smile with your eyes. For the way you always save the last dumpling for me even when you want it. For the way you believed in me even when I didn’t. So... will you marry me?”

You didn’t even let him finish before you tackled him with a hug, both of you laughing as the ring rolled onto the floor.

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He kissed you softly, fingers in your hair, and the world disappeared.

Three Months Later

Living together was a dream but not a perfect one.

There were burnt pancakes, Kiko chewing cables, Nicole waking you both up at 4 a.m. just for attention, and arguments over who left the bathroom floor wet.

But in between those moments were soft Sunday mornings.

You would wake up to Wonwoo brushing your hair behind your ear, whispering, “Good morning, koala.”

You would cook together in mismatched pyjamas him behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as you stirred ramen.

He always teased, “You only love me because I can open pickle jars.”

And you’d roll your eyes, “You only love me because I kill spiders.”

There was laughter. Play fights with spatulas. Kisses between chopping garlic.

And every night ended the same way you two curled up on the couch, limbs tangled, cats purring at your feet.

Your favorite position was koala-style you draped over him like a blanket, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“You’re heavy,” he always teased.

“You love it,” you’d mumble.

And he did. So much.

One Week Before the Announcement

You were nervous.

Wonwoo sat on the edge of your bed, Kiko on his lap, Nicole purring on your pillow.

"You don't have to tell them now," you whispered, twisting your hands together. "We could wait a little."

But Wonwoo looked at you like you hung the stars.

"I want to," he said. "I'm proud of us. I want the world to know you’re mine."

You blinked, heart swelling.

"And I’m yours."

The Announcement

It wasn’t flashy.

It was just a casual Weverse Live the same ones Wonwoo usually did with a cozy hoodie and sleepy eyes.

But this time, he wore a shirt you’d ironed that morning.

"CARATs," he said with a soft smile, "I have someone really special in my life. She’s been my best friend, my peace, my home... and we’re engaged."

The comments exploded.

He laughed, eyes crinkling, and added, "Her name’s Y/N. Some of you might recognize her. She’s been part of our world behind the scenes for a while now. She makes the best kimchi stew. And she stole my heart."

He blushed at his own words and mumbled, “I’m really happy. I hope you can be happy with me too.”

The support flooded in.

And somewhere, watching from your living room, Kiko curled beside you, Nicole on your lap you cried.

Happy tears.

Because this wasn’t just your love story anymore.

It was yours and his, shared with the world loud, fearless, and wrapped in forever.

Your wedding was intimate.

Soft jazz, moonlit vows, your hands in his as you whispered promises between laughter and tears.

Now?

You wore his hoodie and cuddled with him on the couch, a sleepy Nicole snuggled into your stomach.

Wonwoo rubbed your back, looking at you like you were a miracle.

“You’re glowing.”

“Because of the wedding?”

“No,” he said, touching your stomach gently. “Because of him.”

You smiled, tears in your eyes.

“Koala,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, “we’re gonna be parents.”

[monster-effer]

Camping Trip Gone Wild - Caleb x reader

Summary: Caleb invites you to a camping trip and you two are having a great time. But, after snooping through your phone, his jealous side makes itself known. R.I.P. to your pussy!!! Content: MDNI, explicit smut, Caleb and reader are dating, slight dubcon but the reader is definitely into it, questionable use of evol, oral - f receiving, fingering, pet names used: pip-squeak, princess, my love (2.2k wc) A/N: Caleb has been running laps around my mind lately, so I had to write something with him in it. I hope y’all enjoy ♡

You’re shopping at a local farmer’s market when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. When you unlock it, you are pleasantly surprised to see a text from Caleb. He’s usually wrapped up in his work at this time.

Colonel Apple: Hey pip-squeak. You’re free this weekend right? You: Maybe. Depends on what you have planned.

You watch the typing indicator go on and off for a few moments before locking your phone and continuing to peruse the produce at the local farmer’s market. When you have a bag full of fruits and vegetables you feel your phone buzz once again.

Colonel Apple: We haven’t been camping together yet. Let’s change that? You: Hell yeah, I’m in. What do I need to bring besides clothes and toiletries? Colonel Apple: I have the rest covered. Just bring yourself 😊

The rest of the week passed by at an excruciatingly slow pace. But you have just arrived at the camping site with Caleb and all your supplies in tow. Before you can ask, he starts putting together a chair for you to sit on. When he’s done, he wordlessly gestures towards it as if saying ‘It’s all yours’.

You plop down into the chair and cross your legs. Then you enjoy the rocking motion of your new seat as you watch him work his magic. You were more tired than you thought because the next thing you notice is Caleb gently shaking you awake, his face close to yours and his eyes filled with warmth.

“Welcome back princess.”

You yawn and blink a few times to adjust your vision. When you look around, you see Caleb has made significant progress while you were napping. There is now a huge tent set up to the right side of the campsite. And a second camping chair assembled near a table with cooking supplies neatly organized on top of it.

There are fairy lights hanging in the nearby trees and looped around the top of your tent, giving your campsite a cozy glow. The smell of burning wood and the sound of a crackling fire catches your attention next.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I could have helped with something.”

Caleb softly chuckles “I did say that I have everything covered. And you need to relax more, your job as a hunter has you running around all over Linkon.”

You huff and cross your arms because you can’t really argue with that logic. So instead, you decide to change the subject.

“I’m hungry. Let’s make dinner and tell some spooky stories around the fire.”

You two roast some hot dogs and settle down on opposite ends of the campfire. Then Caleb launches into a dramatic tale. By the end of it, you’re gasping with laughter at how cheesy the ending to his story was.

Noticing that it is getting dark out, a question comes to mind.

“Can you remind me where the public showers are again? I want to wash up before we go to sleep tonight.”

Caleb points towards the main road near your camping spot and tells you how to get there. “Do you want me to walk you there?”

“No, I’ll be alright. I’m taking a flashlight with me.”

Caleb hums as he watches you gather your pajamas and toiletries. He pulls his camping chair closer to the crackling fire and is about to settle down into it when he hears your phone’s notification sound go off.

He decides to ignore it, but the notification sound pings once more, and then three more times after that. Since you won’t be back for a while, you can’t blame him for being curious about who is bombarding his girlfriend with texts at this hour.

Caleb abandons his plan to chill by the fire and walks over to the tent. He removes his shoes before climbing in and looking for your bag. Once he finds it, he digs around a bit before finding your phone.

From the home screen he can see that all the notification sounds were coming from one source. They were all texts from Rafayel, who you have saved as  ‘The Little Mermaid’ in your phone. Since you two reunited after his “death”, Caleb begrudgingly accepted that he cannot be your only source of social fulfillment. His work as a colonel keeps him busy for long stretches of time, sometimes you two aren’t able to chat more than once a week.

Caleb is stone faced as he unlocks your phone with your password (that he memorized) and begins reading through the recent messages you received. His curiosity over what warranted back-to-back texts needed to be sated, for his own sanity.

His jaw clenched hard as he read Rafayel’s overly familiar texts.

7:10 pm: are u busy this upcoming week 7:10 pm: need you to be my model for this piece i’m working on 7:15 pm: cutieeeeee dun you want to help me 7:16 pm: i’ll take you out for seafood if you agree 7:18 pm: 💔🥺? 🐟🐠🐡

Caleb is always one to compliment your beauty, but the dark feeling of jealousy fills his chest at the thought of the artist eye balling you for hours on end. Before he can read further up in the text thread, he hears footsteps approaching the campsite.

Not wanting to be caught snooping, he quickly stashes your phone back in your bag and sits in his camping chair. He closes his eyes and tries to relax his body despite the fury bubbling under his skin over the artist taking up your time while he’s not there.

“I’m back. All fresh and clean now.”

When he opens his eyes, he hopes his true feelings aren’t shining through. Although he was left almost void of emotions after his chip implantation, Caleb can feel his anger towards the needy artist increasing by the second. He can also feel that anger transforming into a burning need to re-establish what you mean to each other.

Meanwhile as you stand there you can feel that something is…off. As hard as he tries to hide it, you can read Caleb’s emotions better than anyone else.

“I didn’t know you were so well acquainted with that artist…Rafayel,” he spits out his name as if it pains him to utter it.

You’ve mentioned Rafayel in passing but you aren’t entirely sure where this is coming from.

“Rafayel is a close friend of mine, what about it?” You snap at him, beginning to lose your patience.

Caleb smiles coldly before responding. “From the texts I just read, it seems like you two spend a lot of time together. I think I need to remind you of something.”

You feel anger well up in your body. “Why were you reading my texts Caleb? What the hell. And I think you need to be reminded of something called privacy.”

Before you can chew him out, the unmistakable weight of his evol envelopes your body. You gasp as you’re lifted then held up mid air, as Caleb pulls your camping chair towards him. As you futilely attempt to struggle against the hold, he lets your body slowly descend into the chair and stares into your eyes.

“As I was saying, I’m going to remind you that you only need to rely on me.”

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” you say through clenched teeth.

He ignores your demand and drops to his knees before you. Your breath catches in your throat as he spreads your legs and places butterfly kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs.

You are furious with him for so many reasons, but at this moment, you can’t stave off the arousal building in your tummy.

Caleb begins to suck small hickeys on your skin between peppering kisses all the way up your thighs. You muffle a whine as tingles of pleasure zap straight to your clit. His face is so close to where you can feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. Your thighs are a sensitive spot, and he knows that. If you weren’t weighed down by his evol right now you weren’t sure if you’d be squirming away (or towards?) the torturous pleasure.

“Caleb,” you whimper.

Your voice broke the trance Caleb fell into between your legs. His eyes have darkened when they meet yours once again.

“Yes, princess?”

“M-More please.”

He smirks and doesn’t say a word before forcefully moving your pajama shorts and underwear to the side and licking a long stripe between your glistening folds. His hot tongue is wreaking havoc on your throbbing clit and you all but scream out into the night.

“Oh my god, please please please release your evol. I need to move.”

He detaches from your clit to respond to you. The bottom half of his face is noticeably covered in your slick. And his eyes have a hungry look in them.

 “No can do pip-squeak, you aren’t running from this.”

You let out a high-pitched moan as Caleb leans back in and alternates between dragging his tongue over your clit and making out with your pussy lips.

You take in a sharp breath as you feel tension build up in your belly. Your pussy begins to flutter around nothing.

“C-caleb I’m going to-”

He cuts you off by slipping his middle and ring finger inside of your wet hole. The squelching sound emitting from his ministrations seem amplified by the otherwise quiet night. You can only handle him pumping his fingers inside of you a few times before you reach orgasm.

You almost black out from the overwhelming euphoria as your pussy spasms around the sudden invasion of his fingers. You moan wantonly as Caleb slowly fingers you through your climax.

As you come down from that high, he gently pulls out his fingers. As a small act of mercy, he dissipates his evol and lets your muscles fully relax into the chair. He also pulls down your pajama shorts and undies, leaving your bottom half exposed.

“I hope you’re ready for more, because I’m far from done with you.”

You’re still trembling from the impact of your orgasm as you watch him stand up and remove his shorts and underwear. His thick cock twitches as the cool night air hits it. You hungrily watch his right hand wrap around it and give it a few strokes.

Caleb bends his knees and uses the swinging chair as leverage to line up your pussy with his body. You feel him rub his hot, mushroom tip against your clit and teasingly around your opening.

You shudder at his teasing and consider begging for more. But before you can, he slides himself all the way inside you without warning.

Your hands scramble for purchase before gripping the chair’s headrest. Both of you moan at the sudden, intense sensation.

“I’m so full” you whine as you clench your eyes shut.

He groans and readjusts his hold on the chair.

“Hold on tight pip-squeak,” is all he says before gripping the swinging chair and using it to drill his throbbing length inside of your aching walls. Your back arches sharply from the momentum of being slammed onto his cock.

You can’t do anything but whimper at the deep penetration. Faint creaks can be heard from the chair as your body is forcefully rocked back and forth.

Caleb is showing no mercy to your gushing pussy as he keeps up the brutal pace. You can distinctly feel each vein on his cock drag against your insides. Your mind goes fuzzy when he changes the angle of his thrusts and begins to rut against your most sensitive spot.

Caleb lovingly admires the state he’s put you in. Your hair is a mess, your eyes are unfocused, and it feels like you're sucking him in at every inward thrust.

“There you go my love, all you have to do right now is lay there and take it,” he rasps. He uses his evol to take over maneuvering the chair, so he can rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your mind is filled with nothing but pure bliss. His rhythm turns sloppy when he feels you clench around him.

“You’re doing so good, just let go for me,” he practically coos at you.

You’re barely holding onto consciousness as your orgasm feels like it is never ending. Your legs are shaking, and you futilely try to close them against the onslaught of pleasure.

Caleb continues rubbing your clit and sinking himself inside of you while your spasm.

“Where do you want me to come princess?”

“Inside me please,” you say weakly.

Caleb keens before picking up the pace and burying himself deep inside of you. Feeling the warm spurts of his cum makes you reflexively clench around him. After a few moments, he slowly pulls out and collapses into his chair, letting you both catch your breath.

As you lay there you recall being mad at Caleb about something. But your mind is muddled from the mind blowing, back-to-back orgasms.

Well, you assume it wasn’t that important anyway. And if it was, you’ll deal with it later.

Maybe.

A/N: (Spoiler: Nothing was dealt with. You and Caleb ended up crawling into the tent and fucking some more instead. The end ♡ )

[xoxolaw]

HI! Can you make a Geum Seong Je angst fanfiction? Like heavy angst.

+ THE LAST TIME

in which seong-je learns some goodbyes are forever.

Geum Seong-je x reader

angst

It started like any other morning.

The kettle whistled softly, steam curling into the kitchen air. She moved around with a quiet rhythm, her bare feet padding against the tiles. She hummed a half-remembered song under her breath, pouring tea into two mismatched mugs—hers a deep forest green, chipped at the rim, his an old navy one with a fading logo from a game tournament he once loved.

Seong-je sat on the couch, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, phone in hand. The soft glow of the screen lit his face, but he barely looked up when she called to him.

"Your tea's getting cold."

"Let it," he muttered, not meaning to sound so sharp.

Her hand faltered on the counter. She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked down at the tea she had carefully prepared—the one with a hint of ginger, just the way he liked when he didn’t sleep well.

He was still annoyed from the night before. Something about her asking him to log off earlier, to talk more. Something about the way he rolled his eyes. It was stupid, and they both knew it. But pride had a strange way of making fools of people.

"I'm heading out," she said quietly, placing the tea beside him on the low table. She forced a smile, soft and unsure. "Text me if you want anything for dinner."

He didn’t answer. Just nodded once, eyes glued to his phone.

She lingered in the doorway, watching him. Hoping he’d glance up. Hoping he'd say something that sounded like, Don’t go yet. I’m sorry.

"Don’t stay mad, okay?" she tried, voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll see you tonight."

"Yeah," he said, not looking at her. "Sure."

The door closed quietly behind her.

That was the last time he heard her voice.

---

The call came at 3:17 PM.

He was still on the couch, music playing from his phone now, a dull rhythm filling the quiet apartment. Her tea sat untouched. Cold.

He didn't recognize the number. He almost didn't answer.

But he did.

And the world stopped.

---

She had been crossing the street near the market, a takeout bag in one hand. Her phone was in the other. She was mid-text. To him.

"Got your bimbimbap and soda. No more grumpy boys tonight :)"

The car ran a red light. Witnesses said she didn’t have time to react. That she didn’t suffer. That it was quick.

He didn’t hear any of that. Not really. All he could focus on was the text left unsent. Still glowing on her screen.

He was silent on the call. The kind of silence that feels like drowning.

They asked if he could come identify her.

He barely remembered how he got there.

---

Hospitals were too bright. Too clean. Too cruel.

They led him to a quiet room and handed him a small bag. Her phone. Her wallet. A crumpled gift bag with a note inside.

Home is wherever you are <3

Her handwriting. Loopy and soft.

He clenched the note in his hand until his knuckles turned white.

---

The funeral was three days later.

Friends spoke in soft voices. Her parents sat in the front row, faces shattered in grief. Her coworkers came. Her college roommate cried the entire time.

Seong-je didn’t cry.

He just stood, shoulders stiff, eyes locked on the coffin. People offered condolences he didn’t hear. Touched his shoulder with empty hands. None of it mattered.

She was gone.

And he hadn’t even said goodbye.

---

The apartment felt like a grave.

Her coat still hung by the door. Her shoes were exactly where she left them. Her scent lingered in the air—vanilla.

He opened her phone. The passcode was still the same: his birthday.

There were dozens of photos. Some he’d forgotten she’d taken. Him asleep on the couch. Them laughing over ramen. Her legs tangled with his under a blanket.

There were drafts of messages she never sent:

"Do you ever feel like you're trying too hard to be okay with being loved less?"

"I know you're tired. But I am too. Just in a different way."

"Please look at me the way you used to."

He read every one. Over and over.

---

He couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep.

He started seeing her everywhere—turning a corner, sitting by the window in a café, walking in the rain. But when he blinked, she was gone.

He kept her mug on the counter. He couldn’t wash it.

Some nights, he sat on the floor in her favorite hoodie, clutching the pillow she used. Just to pretend.

He played her favorite movie. Let it loop. Memorized every line she used to whisper along with.

Sometimes he screamed. Other times he didn’t make a sound.

---

Weeks later, he visited her grave for the first time alone.

It was a cold morning. Wind tugged at his sleeves. The sky was an endless gray.

He didn’t bring flowers. She always hated the idea of wasting money on them.

Instead, he brought the soda she’d bought him that day.

He sat beside her stone and placed it down gently.

"Hey."

The word felt strange in his throat. Dry. Brittle.

He closed his eyes, sucking in a shaky breath.

"You were right. About me. About everything."

He pulled the note from his pocket. Creased and worn now.

"I was so stupid. I thought we had more time. I thought... I could apologize later. Buy you flowers. Hold you. God, I would’ve done anything just to have one more morning."

He looked up at the sky, tears streaming freely now.

"I didn’t even kiss you goodbye. I didn’t say 'I love you.' Not once that day."

The silence was deafening.

"If I had known it was the last time..."

His voice broke.

"I would've said everything. Or nothing. I would've just held you. I would've smiled. I would've made you tea and kissed your forehead and begged you not to go."

His shoulders shook as grief finally broke him open.

"You were my home. And I didn’t tell you enough. I didn’t love you loud enough."

He pressed a trembling kiss to the top of the cold stone.

"Wherever you are... I hope you knew. I hope you still do."

He stayed there until the sky darkened.

Until he had nothing left to say except the words he hadn’t said that morning:

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

And still, it didn’t feel like enough.

Because nothing ever would be again.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

Bro I almost cried writing this 😭. Hope this was angst enough 😭😭

[beom-s-author]

txt reactions- they are seeing you with children/baby

choi soobin

Soobin had actually been imagining you secretly with a baby. But seeing you for real was really different. That day, when you went to visit Soobin, you ran into your manager’s little daughter. You actually bumped into her while walking down the stairs. The little girl was walking around with a box of fruit juice in her hand. When you bumped into her, she dropped it on the ground. You quickly ran to get her a new one so that she wouldn’t cry. When you entered the practice room with a little girl in your arms, Soobin looked at you in surprise. “Where did you see Soonmin?” You smiled at Soobin, “We ran into her on the street. She loves cherry juice just like me.” Soobin laughed at what you said and turned to you. “You look so beautiful.”

choi yeonjun

Yeonjun hadn’t expected this sight when he came home from practice. Despite that, you had promised to do it and take a nice shower. However, Yeonjun had found you at home, playing with 3 little kids on the couch and tickling them. Your hair was messy, and you were playing with 2 boys and 1 girl, wearing baggy sweatpants. Small toys were on the floor. Yeonjun turned to you and said, “Baby, who are these and why are they playing with you? What’s their secret?” You laughed when Yeonjun said that. “My cousin dropped off her kids. She’ll be back in a few hours. I couldn’t say no.” Yeonjun smiled at you. “Then I’ll join in on the little game.” You nodded and when you came back in 10 minutes, you saw Yeonjun following the princess crown and sipping tea. You couldn’t hold back your laughter.

choi beomgyu

Beomgyu had been texting you for the past hour. But somehow you weren’t returning his texts. You answered when he called you back worriedly. “Honey, finally. You scared me so much.” However, the person who answered was your 4-year-old nephew. “My aunt is sleeping.” Beomgyu chuckled at the answer he got. You had come from work and you were pretty tired and taking care of a 4-year-old hyperactive boy had really tired you out. After Beomgyu hung up the phone, he went back home. Your nephew was lying down next to you sleeping. You woke up with the sound of keys and looked at Beomgyu. “Beomie?” Beomgyu smiled. “Yes, I’m here. Go back to sleep. I’ll fix something for you.”

kang taehyun

Your boyfriend knew that you were going to take care of your sister's baby today. Your sister had been dealing with the divorce case for about a month and the case was finally coming to an end and you were taking care of your little boy to support her. The baby was very quiet and it seemed perfect to you that he wasn't naughty. Taehyun was buying small toys to distract the baby. You were feeding the baby. When you lifted him onto your shoulders to relieve him, Taehyun turned to you. "I know it's too early for these but if one day we're still together, I'd like to start a family with you because you already seem like you're ready for it. If you want it too, of course..I guess I was being ridiculous." You laughed at Taehyun's words and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

Hueningkai

You were going to make a home visit with Lea and Hiyyih. However, at the last minute, you decided to take care of your daughter upon your friend's request. Hueningkai came home from the market after receiving your requests. There was a lollipop and a candy bracelet in the small bag. You smiled and gave one to the girl. When the little girl silently took it and started licking the lollipop, Hueningkai asked the quiet and shy girl what she wanted to do. The three of you played hide-and-seek, dodgeball and all the other games for an hour and the little girl fell asleep in Hueningkai's arms due to exhaustion. "You're so natural. She fell asleep right away. She didn't whine at all." Hueningkai touched the back of her neck in embarrassment. "Yeah, I guess."

[lightsoutmatthews]

can you write about william nylander realizing he’s found the girl he wants forever with? i am thinking of the song look after you by the fray (when i’m losing my control and the city spins around, you’re the only one who knows to slow it down / you’ve begun to feel like home). like when things feel out of control in toronto she is always there for him and he wants her there forever. lots of fluff hehe

Thank you for this request, you saved me from dying of boredom on this Monday evening 😂

The One – William Nylander

Toronto could be loud. Not just the noise, the car horns, the crowds, the constant buzz of the city, but the pressure that came with being one of the cities brightest stars.

It shined bright on the good nights, when goals were scored and the fans cheered so loudly the walls of Scotiabank Arena were shaking, but it turned cold just as quickly. One off game, a missed pass, a goal drought and the buzz that could be the exact opposite, pressuring and relentless.

William had learned to live with it. He had to if he wanted to survive in a hockey market like this one. Ride the highs, pretend the lows don´t bother too much. Be calm in the spotlight, unshaken when the media and fans came at him like sharks.

No one ever talks about how hard the balancing act actually was. How sometimes it wore him down in places he didn’t even imagine felling tired in.

He would never tell anyone that. Not his teammates, not coaches or staff. Not even his family, at least not to an extend in which it would make them worry.

But there was you. He never had to tell you. You just knew.

He didn’t know when it happened exactly. When you went from being the girl he was dating to the one his whole heart leaned towards like instinct. He guessed it had been somewhere in the quiet moments.

It was you sitting at his kitchen counter in the morning, yawning and sipping coffee from his favorite mug, the one you had claimed as yours early into the relationship. It was your sleepy voice murmuring “good luck today” before he headed to the arena. It was the texts you sent after tough games: I´m proud of you, no matter how it ended.

You weren’t one for the loud kind of support. You didn’t yell his name from the stands or flooded social media with photos of being at games or of your relationship. You were steady. A constant. The kind of presence that didn’t just show up on the good days but stayed close when everything felt like it was falling apart.

You didn´t care about the headlines. You didn´t care if he scored or ig he missed an empty net. You cared if he ate. If he had gotten any sleep. If he was taking care of himself.

He´d come home some nights, feeling like he was still skating even though he got off the ice hours ago, the adrenaline of the game lingering long after the final buzzer rang. His thoughts were racing with what-ifs and should-haves.

Then he opened the door and saw you. Curled up on the couch, his hoodie drowning your frame, the soft glow of the TV dancing on your face, the dogs curled up at your feet. That’s when something in him would just breathe freely again.

“Hey,” you said, tucking your legs under yourself as he dropped his bag by the door.

“Hey,” he replied, and it always felt like enough.

Sometimes he didn’t even need to say much. He sunk into the couch besides you, let you curl into his side and in that silence, embracing the comfort of your warmth, everything inside him would settle.

Like you were the only thing that made sense in a world that demanded too much from him sometimes.

You didn’t ask for the version of him the fans, the media and the team wanted. You just wanted him.

One night, after a string of losses and headlines that made even his stomach twist, he found himself on the balcony, looking down at the buzzing streets while the city lights blurred in the distance. The air was cold, but he barely felt it. He was too wrapped up in the chaos of his own thoughts.

Questioning what he could do better, worrying what would happen if they didn’t win a game any time soon.

Then you came out. Barefoot, wearing another one of his hoodies that fell halfway down your thigh. You didn’t say anything right away. Just stood beside him, your presence soft but grounding.

Eventually, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I know it´s a lot right now,” you said quietly. “But you´re not alone.”

Those six words undid him more than anything else probably ever had. Because no one ever said that. Not really. At least not in a way that felt like they meant it. But you did.

He turned to you, heart too full and aching all at once, and whispered, “I don’t want to do any of this without you.” And he meant all of it.

The wins, the losses, the spotlight, the pressure, the future, his future, wherever that led him. He wanted you in every piece of it.

You looked up at him, surprised, but not uncertain. You gave him that smile, the one that always made his pulse slow, like you had the power to quiet even the worst storm.

“You won’t have to,” you said.

That night, the two of you sat out there for a long time. The city kept spinning, the wind kept rushing past, but it felt like you were in your own little world. Like time had paused to give you a moment that would live in your memories forever.

He didn’t need grand declarations. He didn’t need fireworks. What he needed was you.

Your calm, your laughter, your way of grounding him when he felt like he was flying to close to the sun.

You made him feel like it was okay to slow down. Like it was okay to just be.

And the more he saw it, the more he knew. You weren’t just the girl he loved.

You were home.

The kind of home that didn’t have four walls or a roof, but a heartbeat that matched his, a presence that pulled him back to himself. You were the only thing that felt steady in a world that asked him to be everything all at once.

Right there he realized he found the girl he wanted forever with.

Not because you made him better on the ice, but because you made him want to be better everywhere else. For you. For you together.

He would spend the rest of his life showing you that love.

Because you looked after him, every day.

And he was going to look after you.

Forever.

[magic-shop-stories]

Hiii!!! Could I request Namjoon x f!reader boyfriend head-canons like how you did the Yoongi ones?? Also, preferably with a reader who’s American? But you can totally do whatever!!! Ty!!!

💌 Reply:

I really wanted to write this for all the members, so thank you for requesting it... I hope it's what you wanted, tho I struggled a lot this time, I didnt want it to be too much like Yoongis but I think they wouldn't be THAT different in some points so idk... hope you'll enjoy reading xo - c -

BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS

↳ NAMJOON (RM) × FEM!READER

~ CONTENT WARNING FOR SECOND PART OF THE POST ~ MATURE THEMES | (extra warning in the post)

Possessive behavior

Suggestive themes

Mild NSFW references (kissing, intimacy)

Jealousy Proceed mindfully!

DAILY RHYTHM

Mornings

Early Riser

Slow Starter

awake by 6:30 AM

not by choice

his brain won’t shut off

you find him sprawled on the couch

hair mussed

he's scribbling poetry in a moleskine

glasses slide down his nose

he mutters

“Do you think Thoreau would’ve liked Spotify playlists?”

Coffee Catastrophe

brews matcha lattes

spills half the whisked foam trying to carry it to you

“It’s… abstract art,” 

wiping green splatters off the counter

leaves a sticky note: 

“Compensation latte en route. Don’t judge me.”

Breakfast Buffet

creates a fusion spread:

avocado toast with gochujang drizzle strawberry Pop-Tarts, sliced persimmons

“It’s a metaphor,”  “Sweet, spicy, existential.”

Post-Wakeup Rituals

Study Sessions

his “studio” is a sunlit corner cluttered with art books, bonsai clippings, and a half-built LEGO Guggenheim

you perch on the arm of his chair

he pulls you into his lap without looking up from his sketchpad

“Your elbow’s on my Hegel annotations,”

grumbles, but lets you stay

Tug-of-War

if you try to leave, he hooks a finger in your belt loop

“Wait; listen to this haiku about cicadas.” 

recites it solemnly

“…It’s about us. Maybe.”

Clumsy Affection

reaches for a high-five

misses, and accidentally knocks over his succulent

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” 

you sigh

he repots it with dirt-smudged hands

“Imperfection is art. Like us.”

Midday Moments

Park Philosopher

drags you to Han River

rambling about “the duality of ducks” 

tossing breadcrumbs grain kernels

you nap under a tree

he sketches you with a pocket watercolor set

“You’re my Starry Night...” 

later showing you a blotchy but earnest portrait

Language Exchange

you teach him your slang

“Yeet is a verb, noun, and lifestyle”

he corrects your Korean tones

"Saranghae isn’t a whisper, it’s a promise...” 

voice low enough to make you drop your iced coffee

Nighttime Nuances

Pre-Bed Brain Dump

reads Walden aloud until 1 AM

pausing to rant about capitalism

“Thoreau was a hypocrite but right... wait, did you just snore?”

Sleeping Style

starfishes across 75% of the bed

one arm slung over your waist

“You’re my… multiverse…” 

snores lightly

you kick his shin = he rolls over

taking the sheets hostage

KEY DIALOGUE

when you nag him to hydrate:

“You’re worse than my ARMY Bomb manual.” 

sighs

handing you a reusable water bottle

catch him nodding off mid-lecture about climate change:

“I’m not… tired. I’m processing.”

mumbles, glasses askew

then faceplanting into his copy of Braiding Sweetgrass

his version of “I miss you”:

“Your absence disrupts my entropy.” 

translates to: “Come cuddle before I combust.”

COMMUNICATION

TEXTING STYLE

7 AM: screenshot of the sunrise

“Thoreau was right. Also, buy almond milk.”

3 PM: voice note of him beatboxing over a Langston Hughes poem

caption: “New mixtape: Existential Crisis & Chill.”

Midnight: 

“The moon’s waxing gibbous. Come stargaze. P.S. I made hot chocolate...”

Notes

scribbles Whitman quotes on museum tickets

leaves one in your coat: 

“We were together. I forget the rest... Or I won’t.”

finds your grocery list

adds “Admiration (1 lifetime supply)” at the bottom

PET NAMES

Public:

“Professor” 

when you out-debate him

“Okay, Professor, explain TikTok to me again.”

“Sunflower” at the farmer’s market

“Because you’re tall, bright, and… rooted.” 

blushes at his own metaphor

Private:

“내 작은 폭풍” (My little storm) 

when you’re angry

“Your rage is… awe-inspiring. Also, please stop throwing socks.” “Moonchild” 

whispered during late-night drives

“You glow even when the world’s dark.”

CURSING

Worried Curses

you come home late?

he’s pacing

wearing mismatched socks

“씨발… I Googled ‘American urban crime rates’ and now you’re here?!” 

crushes you in a hug

“Never do that again. Unless… it’s for tacos.”

sees you struggling with IKEA instructions

“젠장, capitalism wins again.” 

builds the shelf upside-down but insists it’s “postmodern.”

Flustered Curses

wear that dress

he knocks over his bonsai

“…God.” 

avoids eye contact

“It’s not fair. You’re a distraction.”

MUTTERINGS (UNFILTERED & UNBOTTLED)

Annoyed Affection

“Why are you so… effortlessly disruptive?” 

when you reorganize his bookshelves by color

“This is chaos. Beautiful chaos.”

steal his fries

he gasps

“This is why empires fall.” 

slides the plate closer to you

Sleep-Soft Confessions

half-asleep, nuzzling your neck

“Your thoughts taste like honey.” 

next morning: 

“Did I say that out loud? Pretend I didn’t.”

after nightmares: 

“Stay. Please. You’re my… sine qua non.”

doesn’t explain it

doesn’t need to

HIDDEN POETRY (FOR YOUR EARS ONLY)

Lyric Leaks

overhear him humming a melody while washing dishes

later, find a note: 

“Your voice in the morning... key of G, tempo adagio.”

Satoori Slips

stress unlocks rural roots

after a long day, he sighs:

“나 죽겠다… (I’m dying…) But your smile is CPR.”

Artistic Vulnerability

leaves a watercolor of your hands in his studio

caption: “These built my universe.”

ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER

Overprotective Tendencies

mention a creepy DM?

next day, he gifts you a leather-bound journal titled “Digital Detox: A Poet’s Guide to Privacy.” 

inside, he’s handwritten firewall tips in calligraphy

“Knowledge is armor. Also, I enabled two-factor authentication.”

Passive-Aggressive Love

complain about slow Wi-Fi?

builds a DIY bookshelf router

cites its design in a TED Talk

“It’s a metaphor… for connection.”

Services

you’re sick?

attempts chicken noodle soup but confuses cumin with cinnamon

“It’s… experimental fusion cuisine.” 

orders pho instead and blames the app

“The algorithm chose this. Don’t hate me.”

Jetlag Rescue

after your flight from the U.S., he stocks the fridge with Dr Pepper and kale smoothies

“Balanced electrolytes… or something.”

VULNERABLE MOMENTS (PHILOSOPHER’S EDITION)

When You’re Hurt

sees you crying over homesickness

recites Mary Oliver until you’re laughing through tears

“You don’t have to be good… but you do have to let me hug you.”

Post-Fight Peace Offering

leaves a dog-eared copy of “The Alchemist” on your pillow

highlighted line: 

“Wherever your heart is, that is where you’ll find your treasure.”  sticky note: “You’re my treasure. Even when you’re mad.”

Drunk Truths

tipsy on soju

traces the outline of your face

“Your smile… it’s like a haiku. Simple. Perfect. Destroys me.”

ask him to explain

"Just… let me live here.”

UNEXPECTED SOFTNESS

Period Protocol

tracks your cycle via moon phases

“Lunar energy affects us all.” 

leaves dark chocolate and a hot water bottle shaped like Totoro

“Science and Studio Ghibli. Optimal healing.”

Bad Day Rituals

finds you crying over burnt cookies

bakes a “deconstructed s’more” (graham crackers, Hershey’s, lighter)

“It’s abstract. Like Rothko.”

Cultural Comforts

wears your college hoodie for a week (way too small)

“It smells like you. And… ranch dressing?” 

secretly buys a duplicate to avoid giving it back

FIERCE LOVE

Defending Your Honor

Karen mocks your Korean accent?

steps in, voice calm but firm

“Language is a living art. Hers is a masterpiece.” 

later, he rage-paints a canvas

titled “Ignorance in Primary Colors.”

Sacrifices

attends a crowded frat party to meet your friends

smiles through “Beer Pong 101” 

quoting Thoreau: “Simplify, simplify… but this is hell.”

UNEXPECTED VULNERABILITY

Period Protocol

leaves a care package:

organic tea, a heated blanket, and a handwritten “Period Playlist” (featuring Mitski and BTS’s “Zero O’Clock”)

“Pain is temporary. My love? Thermodynamically infinite.”

Bad Day Rituals

finds you crying over a failed work project?

recites “Still I Rise” while kneading your shoulders

“You’re Maya Angelou in Prada. Now let’s rise… to order takeout.”

COLD FRONT

Silent Treatment

hurt?

he buries himself in Nietzsche

texts: “When you stare into the abyss… it’s just me waiting for you to apologize.”

Playful Insults Gone Wrong

jokes about his “dad sneakers.” 

buys neon Yeezys and wears them to a museum

“Aesthetic rebellion. Now suffer with me.”

NEGLECTED NIGHTS

Overwork Blinders

disappears for days writing his mixtape

returns with a bonsai tree 

“It’s a metaphor. Needs patience… like us.”

Breaking Point:

unplug his laptop mid-session

he fumes: “Art isn’t a hobby...it’s my lungs!” 

returns at dawn with a handwritten poem: 

“Apologies in iambic pentameter. Forgive me?”

GIFTS

Philosophical Pampering

gifts you a first-edition copy of "Leaves of Grass" with annotations in the margins

“Page 32; Whitman’s wrong. You’re the answer to the universe.”

Eco-Warrior Love

buys noise-canceling headphones made from recycled ocean plastic

“Now you can ignore the world and save it.”

PRETENDS TO HATE SHOPPING (BUT LOVES BOOKSTORES)

Reluctant Mule

drag him to a flea market

complains about “consumerist dystopias” 

but buys a vintage globe to “track our future travels”

carries your tote bag like a badge of honor

“This is not a metaphor. My arms hurt.”

Secret Splurges

catches you eyeing a $500 art print of Georgia O’Keeffe’s “Black Iris”

returns with a bootleg version he painted himself

“Mine’s better. It has… soul.”

Fashion Critic (Liar)

try on a prairie dress

“You look like a Laura Ingalls Wilder reboot.” 

later orders it

HATES WHEN YOU GET DRUNK

(BUT LOVES YOUR HONESTY)

Philosophical Guardian

finds you tipsy at a party

debating “the existential merit of TikTok” with Jungkook

sweeps you over his shoulder

quoting Thoreau: “Simplify, simplify… starting with your liquor intake.”

Morning-After Mercies

wakes you with avocado toast and a "matcha IV drip"

“Electrolytes and antioxidants. Also, I Googled hangover cures in MLA format.”

Secret Worry

texts your college bestie and Jungkook: 

“Keep her at 2 margaritas. Third one turns her into a teen.”

MARRIAGE (POETIC AMBUSH)

Fight

he skips a wedding expo

call him a “commitment-phobe”

snaps: “Marriage is a capitalist construct!” 

you retaliate: “Then why’d you bookmark eco-friendly ring blogs?!”

Ring

minimalist band

engraved with coordinates to the Han River bench where he first said “I love you”

hides it in his Walden copy

find it mid-rant about “transcendentalist proposals”

Proposal

after a fight about his workaholism

projects a poem onto your apartment wall: 

“Forever is a fractal. Let’s get lost in the pattern.” 

“Marry me. Or let’s debate it over kombucha.”

FATHERHOOD

(THE GREAT PHILOSOPHICAL CRISIS)

Panic

mention kids?

he freezes, spilling matcha on his “I Heart NY” shirt

“…We killed a cactus. A cactus.” 

buys a fern named “Baby Freud”

it thrives

he's trying extra hard (bc he secretly really really really wants to)

Test Run

volunteers at an orphanage to read “The Little Prince”

returns with a kid’s crayon drawing

titled “Namjoon Hyung is Weird”

frames it

“Art is truth.”

Revelation

catches you watching a video of him teaching ARMYs to recycle

a toddler comments: “He’s pretty… for a teacher.” 

he mutes it, cheeks pink

“…She’s not wrong.”

ARGUMENTS & FEARS

Fight

you suggest naming your son “Thoreau”

chokes on his kimchi

“We’re not naming a human after a guy who hated people!” 

compromises with “Jun”

“It means truth. And I picked it.”

Fear

finds him researching “How to Raise a Feminist Son” at 3 AM

slams the laptop

“…But what if I’m worse? What if I lecture him about Hegel?”

THE ARRIVAL

Pregnancy

reads “The Giving Tree” to your belly every night

records the kicks as a lo-fi beat titled “Kicks of Hope”.

Birth Day

holds your hand while reciting Rumi

passes out when the doctor says “push”

wakes up sobbing

“You’re my supernova.”

First Night Home

swaddles your daughter in a BTS-themed blanket

texts the group chat:

“She has her eyes. And my inability to shut up.” 

sends a voice memo of her coos over a Miles Davis sample

~ CONTENT WARNING ~

MINORS DNI | NSFW | SPICY INTIMACY/PHYSICALITY AHEAD

contains: possessive themes, sensual language, suggestive scenarios, jealousy, explicit intimacy/kissing,suggestive content, kink mentions (marking, power dynamics), body worship

PHYSICALITY & ARTISTIC AFFECTION

Protective Poise

Public Gestures

his hands are gentle but intentional

but they linger

thumb brushing the nape of your neck 

palm resting on the small of your back at gallery openings

fingers brushing yours as he passes you a book

palm sliding possessively down your spine

whisper: “That Picasso? Overrated. You’re the masterpiece.”

he’s less restrained at home

pulls you into impromptu slow dances in the kitchen

humming off-key to “Trivia: Love” while swaying

pins you against his bookshelf, philosophy tomes digging into your back

“Tell me I’m wrong."

lips grazing your earlobe: "Tell me Rothko’s red isn’t the same shade as your mouth.”

Clumsy Cuddles

tries to lift you for a spin

trips over the rug, and lands you both on the couch/bed

“Gravity’s a social construct anyway.” 

cheeks pink

instead of apologizing, he hovers above you

glasses askew

“Fate intervened. Now...”

Intellectual Rivalry (Jealousy, Joon-Style)

overhears a philosophy major flirting with you at a café

interrupts with a “casual” debate on Kant’s ethics

later, buys you first-edition Thoreau

“Just thought you’d appreciate… deeper conversations.”

Subtle Flex

shows up to your work event in a tailored suit

glasses perched low

“Oh, this old thing? Just felt like… elevating the dress code.”

CONTEMPLATIVE GAZES

Staring (But Make It Deep)

watches you sketch in the park

eyes tracking the way your brow furrows

“Your creativity… it’s like watching a storm form.”  “That’s your third metaphor today.”  he grins “I’m just getting started.”

Staring (But Make It Dangerous)

watches you slip into his oversized Harvard hoodie

eyes darkening as the fabric drapes off one shoulder

rasps: “You’re… violating the dress code.” then closes his laptop: “And I’m failing to care.”

Late-Night Honesty

post-museum date, he traces the curve of your collarbone with a pen cap 

“Your body’s a gallery. Every scar, every freckle... curated perfection.” 

kisses your shoulder

loosens his tie

voice a velvet rumble

“That dress should be illegal. You should be illegal.” traces the strap of your lingerie: "Sylvia Plath wrote about this, didn’t she? I am, I am, I am… yours.”

SECRETLY LOVES YOUR CONFIDENCE (BUT WILL WRITE A SONNET ABOUT IT)

Artful Admiration

Backhanded Praise

wear a bold, avant-garde outfit?

“You’re… a walking Dadaist exhibit.” 

later sketches you in charcoal

captioning it “Chaos Theory: Personified.”

wear a leather trench coat to his speech?

“You’re deconstructing the male gaze. Literally.”

sketches you, nude

Possessive Glances

spots a stranger eyeing you at a poetry slam

slides his arm around your waist

loudly debating “the hegemony of Western canon” until they flee

Possessive Academia

grad student flirts with you at a library?

he accidentally knocks over a stack of Derrida books

pulls you into a secluded aisle

“Let me… re-shelve your priorities.”

BEDROOM PHILOSOPHY

Foreplay (But Make It Existential)

reads Foucault aloud

voice dipping lower with every page

“Power is knowledge… and I know what you’re thinking.” 

slides his glasses off, eyes locked on yours

“Prove me wrong.”

prefers lights dim

Miles Davis on vinyl

whisper-reads Rilke as you straddle his lap

“Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.” 

hands grip your hips

“Still… focus, okay?”

Aftercare

braids your hair while dissecting the symbolism in “The Great Gatsby.” 

“Daisy’s voice is full of money… but yours? Full of… everything.”

TOUCH

Electric Prelude

hands speak in sonnets

calloused fingertips skimming your jawline

like a quill drafting verses

thumb brushing your bottom lip as if memorizing its shape for a poem

maps your skin like a cartographer charting undiscovered terrain

lingering at pulse points (wrist, throat, inner thigh) to sync his heartbeat with yours

“Your body’s a library,” “Let me… read you.”

Possessive Anchors

palm splayed against your lower back

pressing you closer until his chest meets yours

fingers tangled in your hair

tugging just enough to tilt your head for a kiss that starts as a whisper and ends as a manifesto

“You’re my magnum opus...”

breathes heavy, lips grazing your earlobe

“And I’m… revising.”

Aftercare Rituals

post-passion, he traces constellations on your hip with a philosopher’s precision

touch lingers on scars, birthmarks, the curve of your waist

pulls you into his chest

reciting Whitman into your hair

“We were together… I forget the rest.”

KISSES

Slow Ignition

starts with closed-mouth presses to your temple, knuckles, the corner of your lips

testing, teasing

when you gasp, he smirks

nipping your lower lip

“Impatient. Inelegant. Perfect.”

he's deep but controlled

Hidden Softness

after fights, his kisses are apologetic

chaste pecks to your eyelids, nose, scars on your knee/elbows

“Sorry… sorry…” - breathed like a prayer

leaves a haiku on your pillow: 

“Pride is a shadow / Your warmth is the sun / Forgive me.”

PACE

Deliberate Crescendo

prefers slow, maddening build-up

undresses you like unwrapping a first-edition novel

mouth exploring every chapter

= collarbones, ribs, the dip of your hips

taking forever before letting you fall apart

“You’ll take what I give you.” 

warns you at every whimper

eyes dark

“And I’ll give you… everything.”

Feral Surges

when jealousy strikes, he’s relentless

pins you against his studio wall

biting your shoulder as his hands roam

“Mine. Say it.” 

you whimper? he gentens

forehead pressed to yours

“Say it… please.”

POSITIONS

Scholar’s Missionary

your legs hooked over his shoulders

hands gripping the headboard for leverage

“Don’t hide,” he orders

he's watching your face unravel

“Let me… study you.”

Cowgirl Command (aka you're his "pro rider")

lets you take control

hands squeezing your hips

“Show me what you need.” 

the moment you falter, he flips you

"Thought so"

PREFERENCES

Lighting

pitch dark or very dim lights

pages of his journal scattered like rose petals

claims he “hates getting interrupted”

Soundtrack

your whimpers = his name gasped like a curse

demands “Louder,” 

then covers your mouth or lightly choked you

“Too loud. Save it for the encore.”

Kinks

Marking

leaves metaphorical bruises

"ink stains" on your inner thigh

“So you remember… I’m your muse.”

Power Play

lets you “bind” him with his own tie

then breaks free

"You really think you can handle me?"

ROUNDS

Quality > Quantity tho if you beg him for more he won't ever stop until you beg fot the opposite

Dawn Encores wakes you with his mouth between your thighs

voice sleep-rough

"You moan in your sleep baby..."

FAVORITE SPOTS

Neck-to-Shoulder Junction bites here to hear you yelp

soothes it with his lips and gentle kisses

“You taste like… victory.”

Behind Your Ear whispers filth in Korean

grinning when you shiver and even wider when you don't understand

Inner Wrists kisses your veins like they’re holy

“Every heartbeat’s… because of me.”

TRIGGERS

Begging

“Please, Joon...” 

he cuts you off with a snarl

“Not yet. Earn it.”

Competence

take charge!

ride him ruthlessly

he lets you

until he can't hold himelf back anymore

“Fuck… okay.” 

flips you mid-stride

then tales you from behind

Vulnerability

tears during aftercare?

crushes you to his chest

voice breaking

“I’ve got you. Always. I'm sorry - tell me what you need honey.”

[no-144444]

mistakes and miscalculations- c.leclerc

------------------

------------------

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary: a fight and a mistake leads to something worse.

------------------

You hadn’t had a worse day in months, no- years. Fuck this. Work was a mess, everyone was blaming you for something you didn’t do, and you and Charles weren’t exactly communicating. He’d said something a few days earlier, something about you not having as hard a job as him. Which, granted, was true. He was a racecar driver, you worked in marketing, but it didn’t mean that your work was any less important. Hell, work was where you two had met. You were his publicist when you’d started dating. So yes, it rubbed you the wrong way and you’d decided to sleep on the couch instead of being with him. He didn’t take kindly to that, and hadn’t spoken a word to you in 4 days. Yay. He texted you, small messages consisting of “I got here safe” or “sleep tight  xxx” and things like that. But Friday nights were your date night, even when it was a race weekend. But 8pm came and went and there was no call on your phone. 

Oh. 

It was fine. You didn’t need to talk to him. Did you miss him greatly? Yes. Were you over the entire argument? Yes. Was he? Evidently not. 

You lay in bed awake for a few hours as you thought over everything. Maybe you had been too harsh, he was stressed, especially since he was unsure about the strategy the team had given him for the weekend ahead. But… he didn’t need to be so mean about things. Your work was important, and to have him just brush it off like that, in the way he did, when all you were trying to do was express how overworked you were, it all made you feel… unheard. It wasn’t a nice feeling.

Your phone started ringing at 4am in Monaco, meaning it was 9pm in Austin. You picked it up without looking, just hoping it wasn’t something important.

“Y/n?” It was Charles. “I know it’s early, my love.”

“Charles?” You yawned. “I thought you were still and at me.”

He sighed. “I thought I was, but then I realised I just felt guilty for saying what I did, and not talking to you was more a punishment for myself. I’m sorry about what I said, and what I didn’t say.”

You sighed, lying. “It’s fine Charles.”

You were still not over the fight, it had cut you deep, what he had said. “Your job doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, why is your boss getting so worked up about you not coming to Austin?”

It broke your heart. Charles had always been so supportive, but the moment he got stressed, you were suddenly not important. Right. 

“I’m sorry I missed date night,” he added sheepishly. You hadn’t missed that in 8 months. He broke the streak. 

“I waited for an hour and a half,” you chuckled sadly. “Even then I couldn’t sleep.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Good luck tomorrow,” you sighed. “I’ll be rooting for you from Monaco.”

“My love?-“

“Oh and tell Arthur ‘good luck’ too, and sorry that I couldn’t be there in person for his debut. I’m just swamped with my unimportant work over here.”

And with that you hung up the phone, breaking your 1 year streak of always saying ‘sleep tight’ at the end of a phone call. You were irritated, irritated due to the nerve he had to call you like that. Sometimes you wondered if all the praise he got went too far to his head and gave him a  superiority complex, but another part of you just knew that was your irritation getting the better of you. 

You went back to sleep, far too tired to think about what you’d just done. 

------------------

“She hung up,” he sighed. “She hung up without saying goodbye.”

“Are you two breaking up?” Arthur questioned, sitting on his older brother's bed as he slowly fell apart. He’d never not spoken to you for this long, it was becoming embarrassing how upset he was. How could he let this happen? You were one of the best things in his life, if not the best thing. “If you are, I do not think I would recover.”

Charles scoffed. “We are not breaking up,” he took a deep breath. “We are just… arguing. Like adults.”

“You called her job unimportant! That’s a childish thing to say,” Ollie shrugged. Kimi nodded his head, agreeing. 

“And a pretty mean thing to say,” Kimi added. “Especially when her job is so important to you.”

Charles groaned. “I know I messed up!” He groaned again. “I just need to figure out a way to get her to forgive me.”

“Grand gesture! Like in the movies!” Kimi cheered, Arthur and Ollie agreeing. “Bring her to the race and give her a holiday from work!”

Charles thought about it for a moment. You did need a break, there was no doubt about it.  “That’s not a terrible idea.”

“Exactly!” Arthur smiled. “Do that, and she’ll love you again!”

Charles smiled. “I’ll call her now-“

“No! You have to make it like… an emergency! And then she’ll rush here and you’ll have a date set up,” Ollie thought as the other boys nodded their heads. 

“I feel like she’d get stressed-“ Charles said but Ollie was already busy thinking about ways to get you to Austin.

------------------

“What Ollie?” You answered your phone as you drew up yet another plan for the marketing strategy your boss had already made you redo twice, 

“Thank god you answered!” Ollie sighed a sigh of relief. “Charles is broken up about your break up, we’ve tried everything-“

“What?” You gasped. You and Charles hadn’t broken up, had you? No. Neither of you wanted to break up, right? You didn’t. Did he? “We didn’t break up.”

“We tried to tell him that, but he doesn’t believe us. He thinks you blocked him. Can you… come to Austin? He doesn’t think he’ll drive in this state, he’s devastated.”

You sighed. “I’ll book a flight for tonight. See you soon.”

“Thanks Y/n.”

------------------

As far as a hellish week goes, that must’ve been the worst in your life. Shitty work week, Charles and you fighting, then the flight to Austin Texas that you barely got on because of course your boarding pass wouldn’t print. 

You weren’t over the fight, at all, but you and Charles definitely weren’t breaking up. You’d never want that, no matter how annoyed you were. If it took a flight from Monaco to Austin in the middle of an argument, at the end of a shitty week to prove your love, well that’s what you had to do. 

You sat, staring at your battery as it slowly dwindled away and your music played on, but it sadly was not enough to drown out the noise of the sobbing baby beside you. Maybe you should’ve let Charles buy you the noise-cancelling headphones he was going to get you as a ‘just-because’ present, instead of the wired headphones you’ve had since you were in college, that had finally decided to die on you, mid-flight. You weren’t going to admit he was right when he said “those things will break on you at the worst time!”, you were just going to thank him when he eventually came home with them after a race, probably being gifted them by some random company. Your apartment had started to look more and more like a shop, rather than a house, it was another major pressure point of your relationship. It drove you crazy, the disorganisation and the constant influx of things that you two could never keep up with, and Charles didn’t seem to be too bothered by it. That had made its way into the fight too. God, what hadn’t? 

------------------

Touching down in Austin was as glamorous as one would imagine. You were tired, hungry (you couldn’t stomach aeroplane food), and you were pissed off. Why did this have to happen this week? The one week you were just looking forward to being alone all weekend. 

You adored Charles, but sometimes we all need some alone time, and this weekend was going to be that. You needed a break from being yourself, for being a chief marketing officer, and from being Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend. You just needed a moment of silence, was that too much to ask for? 

You met Arthur outside the airport, and he wrapped you up in a hug as he smiled, happy you’d made it. 

“Hey Arth,” you sighed, exhausted. 

“Hey Y/n,” he smiled. “Thank you for coming, he really needs you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded. “Let’s go, I’m exhausted.”

You fell asleep in the car on the way to the track, beyond tired from your travels. You woke up about a minute before Arthur pulled into the Ferrari hospitality, and you were practically a zombie when you grabbed your bags and followed Arthur up to Charles’s room. 

“Baby?” You asked, eyes closed from exhaustion. You were barely standing up, shocked you were even still awake. 

“Is that you?” Charles’s voice rang through your ears. 

“Yeah baby, open the door,” you smiled lazily. You missed him. It was hard not to. 

The door swung open to reveal… a candle-lit dinner and Charles? 

What the fuck? 

“Baby!” He cheered, pulling you into him, pressing kisses to your cheek and neck. “Surprise!”

You didn’t answer. No way he made you fly all the way to Austin, faked thinking you two were breaking up, and all for a fucking dinner? No way. This was a joke. This was some sick and twisted joke. 

“Baby?” His smile slightly faded. “Are you ok?” 

You couldn’t stop it. Exhaustion, stress, anxiety, anger, everything. It all tipped over and you started crying. In his arms. You buried your face in his shoulder and his arms wrapped around you in an instant, closing the door to give you two some privacy. 

“Baby,” he cooed. “What’s wrong?”

And that was the last straw. What was wrong?

You pushed him off, wiping your eyes as any and all exhaustion was replaced with adrenaline. 

“What’s wrong?” You cried, a twisted smile on your face. “What’s wrong so that my boyfriend is psychotic and decided it would be a great idea to make me think that we were breaking up and making me fly to fucking Austin for a dinner. Charles. That’s my fucking problem. The same boyfriend that called my job unimportant when I was trying to tell him that I was beyond stressed about it, my headphones broke on the flight, a baby was crying beside me, and I’m exhausted!” You sobbed. 

He looked down, disappointed with his own actions. He knew how this would go, and yet he let 3 teenagers talk him into it. How stupid was he?

“And the worst part is,” you continued. “Is that I’m not even fucking mad at you! Because I’m just happy that I’m not being broken up with! Because I fucking love you!” 

Oh. Oh. Oh. 

You loved him. And he’d pulled this. And you said it for the first time. And he’d stressed you out more. 

“Baby please-“ he tried to take your hand, but you just slumped against him. 

“I’m sorry I slept on the couch, I’ll never do it again. Just please don’t do this to get my attention. You always have my attention.” you sniffled. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, far too chipper for this specific moment. “You’re tired, let’s talk about this in the morning, yeah?”

You nodded and let him lead you to his bed. 

You fell asleep almost instantly and he smiled. At least you two were talking. At least you two were in the same bed. At least you two were in love. 

“My love,” he whispered, laying beside you. “I love you.”

------------------

When you woke up the next morning and despite the obvious tension, you were happy to be Charles’s arms. 

“Morning,” he pressed a kiss to your neck. 

“Morning,” you rolled over, out of his grasp to look at the clock. 

He sighed, crawling towards you. “Can we talk about it?”

“About what?” you turned to him. “The fight? The stunt you pulled yesterday? Our fake break up?”

He scoffed. “I am not the only one at fault here,” he argued. “Our fight is not only my fault.”

You sighed, placing your head in your hands. “I know that. And I’m exhausted, so let's just go our separate ways for the weekend and talk about it after, ok?”

He nodded. “But you’ll still be here, right? You’re not going back home?”

“Not until you are,” you sighed, getting up. 

Charles watched as you made your way to the bathroom, stretching as you went. Sometimes, it hit him hard how gorgeous you are, this was one of those times, and he was hit very, very hard. 

“Baby?” he called out.

You poked your head out. “Yeah?”

“Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, and was a little surprised when you obliged. He sat you on his lap and held you close, resting his head in your neck. “I’m sorry. I was stupid and I’m sorry.”

You nodded, letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Ok.”

“And I know what I said was wrong, your job is super important, because we met here, and also because you put your heart into your work. I’m sorry.”

You ran your hands through his hair, a conflicted look on your face. “I’m sorry I brought other things into the fight and slept on the couch.”

You felt him smile as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “And I love you, and I don't want to fight anymore.”

You chuckled. “Me neither.”

He was silent for a minute, just pressing soft, comforting kisses to your neck as he enjoyed having you near him. “So are we ok?”

“We aren’t 100% ok, but we’re getting there,” you explained, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “There’s probably more things we should talk about, but maybe when you don’t have a Gran Prix in a matter of hours? And I love you too.”

His grin widened, and he couldn’t resist pulling you down to properly kiss you for the first time in days.

------------------

navigation for my blog :)

[mysteria157]

Undone

nanami kento x black fem reader

wc- 2.8k

warnings- angst, heavy themes, mental health and healing, the fluff that nanami brings.

a/n: I have been feeling like poo these past few days and trying to find my voice in writing. So I created a little drabble that helped me feel better. hopefully, it does for others as well. happy reading

divider: @saradika | JJK Masterlist

He hasn’t heard from you in days.

Granted, that first date was 12 weeks ago, but Nanami is used to the string of texts between you that is consistently pinging—a feat that Nanami never thought to reach. He’s used to the late night phone calls, the FaceTimes that are meaningless because he just wants to look at you. But for the first time, you turned him down.

Three days ago, on the morning of a nice dinner he had planned, you called with a scratchy voice, “I’m just really tired today, but I’ll be shipshape in no time!” You had insisted.

With vigilance sewn into his body since the day he could remember, Nanami notices right away something is wrong. Maybe it was the distant crack of your words. Maybe it was the fact that you cleared your throat once, no—two times to make yourself sound as professional as possible. As if Nanami is an employer and not the man you’ve decided to let into his life.

Regardless, he was as polite as always. Content to change the subject and send you well wishes before hanging up. The meme texted to his phone five minutes later, sweetening whatever sour concoction had manifested in his belly from your phone call. But still…Nanami knows. So he waits.

He waits three days of agonizing silence before a maelstrom of worry finally claws its way to the surface of his pool of impassivity. He stops by the market first and grabs ingredients. There’s a soup recipe you love—a recipe he soaked up like a sponge as he hovered near you in your kitchen during your first date. He’ll make that.

On his way out of the market, his eyes catch a bouquet of Asian lilies. Sunset orange petals adorned with long dark stamen. He picks up a modest bouquet—something large enough to make you smile every time you see them, but not too much to make you sneeze from your allergies.

It’s 6:47 PM when Nanami’s shoes touch your welcome mat. Even as his eyes trace the tawny ‘Welcome!’ made of coir, he can feel the unease wafting from behind your closed door. Your spare key rests in his closed hand, the metal digging into his palm in a silent question. You insisted that it wasn’t too soon in the relationship for this, to have access to each other in this way. After all, finally opening his heart to love after keeping it locked behind the demands of work, Nanami wanted to take things slowly. But you had other plans—you always do. And now, Nanami is glad to have relented so quickly when you gave him the spare key two weeks ago.

You’re a tidy person, meticulous to a fault. So it’s easy for him to spot the littering of disarray. The curtains are drawn tight, casting your home into darkness. A trail of clothes starts from the door and trails to your room. There are dirty dishes in your sink—you hate going to bed with a messy kitchen. The air is permeable—a physical being that Nanami can see the particles as they float and scurry with his movements through your home.

He finds you in your room, a tornado of dirty clothes and empty takeout containers, three blankets deep, with only the top of your hair visible. The air is just as stale in here—heavy with the kind of silence that comes to life from too many hours alone with dark thoughts. Your phone lies on your nightstand, face-down, notifications from others probably neglected along with Nanami’s. He hates the sight, angry at whatever malevolent force that’s decided to torment you, and now he fights it.

The rustle of Nanami setting his things down makes you stir, the lump of covers oscillating with your movements as a flash of your melanin-rich skin pokes from the dark hole where you reside. Your eyes meet his—surprised, alarmed, and immediately angry.

“Get out,” you snap, your voice gravelly from disuse. Through the curtain of your textured hair, Nanami catches a sliver of your icy gaze, foggy with the heaviness he can smell in the room. He takes a step closer, and it’s a step too far. Your tired eyes widen with a simmering fury that makes Nanami think twice.

“Why can’t you listen?! You can’t be here…” you stop short, squeezing the covers around your already decaying form like a lifeline. “Not when I’m—like this.”

He takes another cautious step—your eyes narrow, a weak challenge—then another until he sits at the edge of your bed. The dip from his weight causes your feet to curve into the cavern, toes touching his thighs from beneath your covers.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

The still air seems to vibrate from your fury, dust motes zipping haphazardly as if being pulled back and forth by an invisible force.

“Call you? Call you?? So you could see this? So you could see how I can’t even—“A lump of confusion and rage dies in your throat, the sound gurgling like a sewage pipe. His hands clasp the blanket that covers your shoulders, pulling you up gently with no resistance. You want to smack his hands away, to yell at him to leave and never come back. Because you’re not ready for him to see you like this. Not yet.

But despite the bark of your bite, you’re exhausted—mentally and physically.

“I wanted to wait a few weeks,” you ramble, eyes turned away from him as you shiver from the cold air on your exposed upper half. You’re still wearing the same shirt from three days ago when you called Nanami to cancel; your eyes had already been filled with tears, your throat suffocating beneath torrential thoughts and negativity that springs to life when you least expect it.

“No one wants to see this so soon.”

“From that statement alone, I’m going to assume the men you dated before were below average in all respects.”

“Everyone expects some grandiose gesture to make all of…this go away. And it’s not that fucking simple.” You don’t acknowledge his assessment. Still rambling, still trying to push him away even as he stands. He pulls you up with him with a firm grip still on your shoulders, his care poking at your defenses with inquisitive fingers.

Your knees buckle, threatening to give out without the reassurance of his hold. Your rambling falls to the wayside, fading into the air around you as you finally comprehend your new position in front of him. Standing for the first time in days, the strength of his hands radiates warmth down to your toes. The room falls quiet, opening its ears to your uneven breathing and the smell of tears.

One beat. Two beats. Three.

“It seems you’re standing now,” he says simply, the low crooning timbre of his voice wafting over your face. You heave in a stuttering breath, suck down his air, and let it fill you from the inside with care you’ve neglected. Nanami doesn’t leave his words open for discussion. There is no question hidden in his matter-of-face statement. There is no undercurrent of judgment.

“A bath.”

“What? Kento—no. I don’t need—I don’t deserve—“ His hand slides from your shoulder to cup your cheek, silencing you with its warmth. You resist leaning into his touch, too embarrassed that he can see you like this—stinky, tired, so utterly crestfallen that you can barely function.

“I’ll draw you a bath. I’ll make you dinner. And once I’m sure you’re at least full and clean, then I’ll go. Until you’re ready for me again.”

Steam rises around you in the bathroom, carrying eucalyptus and lavender from the bath oils you like to indulge in on a terrible day like this one. You draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your limbs to bury your head in the gap it creates. Your eyes catch the water droplets on your skin, hydrophobic and suspended in time before sliding into the bath water.

When you turn your head to the side, you catch your living room from the open door. He’s cleaned up—opened the curtains, picked up the laundry, and vacuumed the floors. One of your candles burns bright, the low whir of your washing machine sashaying through the apartment. All things you just haven’t had the energy to do.

It started off small, it always does. One thought—fleeting and infinitesimal—but still heavy with a nervousness that plants in your mind like a maggot, burrowing its way through the meat. Your symptoms are more anxious thoughts, more poor remarks of yourself, more he’s successful who are you kidding? More maybe they don’t like you, why can’t you see that? More once Kento sees this side of you, he’ll never want you again.

More, more, more even though those thoughts hold little evidence to prove true. But for you, those maggots burrow until there is nothing left of you but a hollow shell, a husk that has no choice and no energy but to lay down in bed and sleep the days away until the meat heals again.

Beneath the steam, you can spell the mix of thyme, peeled tomatoes, and garlic. The tomato soup you showed him how to make on your first date. He was inquisitive, watching silently, his eyes falling on yours too often to take good notes. Now, it’s another show of this man you’re growing to love, crafting something for you with his own hands, affection beneath the veil of reservation that he shows everyone else.

It’s too much for you. The tears come quietly, spilling down your cheeks and into the bath water, polluting the love that was used to create it.

You hear his footsteps, padded feet on your now clean floor as he walks into the bathroom and takes in the sight of you. You blink against the rush of embarrassment, too tired to wipe the tears away, too tired to hide a vulnerability you wanted to keep a lid on for awhile longer.

He walks to your sink, gathering product, a hair bottle, and a wide-toothed comb before coming back to you. He kneels beside the tub and rolls up his navy sleeves without ceremony, pinching off his glasses before he sets them on the floor. He’s soft but efficient in the way he rubs your bar soap on your loofah, getting it nice and sudsy. He’s relaxed but observant—his tie loosened but not completely off, his forearms flexing with quelled strength as he washes your back and shoulders, the slight furrow of concentration in his brows as he measures his next words.

“Strawberry and cream cheese danishes.”

“Hm?”

“If I eat one, I’ll want more. So I try to stay away when I can.” Nanami continues, washing the soap off your shoulders before he hands you the loofah. You take it without question, watching him disappear to sit behind you as you wash your limbs.

“After Yu…I would bury my sorrow in work. I worked and worked and worked until my boss forced me to take time off. It’s a sneaky sickness. It likes to watch over you and strike the very moment your guard is down.”

You hear the squeeze of your hair bottle behind you, your snarled strands soaking with rosemary-scented mist in his gentle fingers.

“It’s been years. But when it does hit, that darkness that seems to strangle me and tell me that I should have tried harder, that I should have protected him….I like to go across the street from my home and get a strawberry and cream cheese danish.”

You know Nanami has a sweet tooth. You’ve seen the way his eyes light up from the pies that you like to make, always bringing him a slice to work. You’ve seen the sidelong glance he gives strudel that steams behind glass display cases at the bakery he takes you to. But to imagine him leaving his apartment in the dead of night, wrinkled clothes and bags beneath his eyes, not showered in days—paying for a danish…you hitch a breath, a chuckle squeaking and dying in your throat with a painful lurch.

“Why are you laughing?” He admonishes. You can practically feel the lifted brow and gentle smile on your back. Your skin tingles with the movement of his fingers as he works them through your hair, detangling with rosemary and leave-in conditioner

“Do you buy the three-pack?”

Silence. A pause in your hair before baby hairs flutter from the puff of air he shoots out. You bite your lip to keep the dry smile from forming.

“No,” he lies, playfully.

The heaviness in the air gives way to a light current of brightness from your fleeting smile, from the smell of the tub, and your hair now detangled and loose before shrinkage claims it.

“I’m not sure what’s compelled you to think there’s a proper time to tell me that your thoughts grow dark at random moments in your life. Now, two months from now, it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

The declaration wraps around you, sliding down your ajar mouth and curdling in your lungs with certainty, taking root in the muscle for the foreseeable future.

“And if it is alright,” he continues, carding his fingers through your hair to plait it into a single braid. “I would like to love every part of you. Even the parts you try to hide. The parts that make you think that you’re not good enough—for me, or your friends, or anyone else. If anything, being able to be here, right now, is a privilege I’ll cherish.”

When the fresh tears spill over again, they no longer taint the water you soak in. They cleanse, collecting and filtering away the depression and anxiety that claims so much of your life when you least expect it.

After, when you’re clean and smelling of Shea butter that Nanami slathered you in, you sink into your now clutter-free sofa. The exhaustion settles on your bones in a different way. Well earned after a long battle instead of invasive and unasked for.

Your eyes rest on the lovely bouquet of Asian lilies on your coffee table, fresh with stems cut, curling toward you with open petals so you can see the beauty inside. The gesture fills you with more of that feeling, of love that you never imagined to come so soon with a man like him.

Nanami walks around the sofa, a tray that he sets in front of you carrying his own rendition of your tomato soup, toasted sourdough grilled cheese, and a tall glass of water.

“Extra basil?” You ask, lips wobbly around a smile as you take in another form of his adoration that you’ll have forever if he allows it.

“Extra basil.”

When he returns with his own tray, his hair falling over his eyes in a heap of hard work, he offers you a look. A measured look that’s filled with everything he wants to give, an excitement in his warm brown eyes that you can’t wait to see more of. But it’s shrouded in a gentle reservation with gaps only visible to you. Soft smiles for you. Loving touches for you. A beacon in storms that brew seemingly out of nowhere just for you.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against your forehead, a safe place where he can take some part of you while you heal. But you’d like more. So you tilt your head for him, soaking the warmth from his lips that press against yours softly.

Suddenly, your worries, your dark thoughts, your misery that you let keep you beneath your blankets for days all smoothed over from his touch. Satiated until those maggots in your mind wiggle to life again when they’re hungry.

“Marcus didn’t give a rose to Janine.” He says casually as he draws back to his side and turns on the TV, nonchalant as if he didn’t just spend the evening putting you back together with gentle hands and quiet love.

You relax into his side, looking at his arm with teary eyes as he rests it on the couch behind you, offering a blanket of comfort and safety that you haven’t had in a long time.

“Gojo spoiled it,” Nanami continues, grumbling and annoyed at the two syllables of Gojo’s name touching his tongue. He blows at his spoon of soup, eyes locked on the screen, his sharp features colored with flickering blues and reds.

He notices your stillness—of course, he notices—and offers you another kiss on your cheek before turning back to the show.

“I’ll steal his kikufuku as punishment,” you offer, arm shaking with the gentle chuckle he gives in response.

The soup steams in your hands, your hair soft and braided, your body worshiped and clean, Nanami’s heartbeat permeable beneath his clothes as you sink into him and sip your delicious soup.

For the first time in years, you know when the world feels heavy, he’ll be able to lift that weight off of you before it buries you away.

[revasserium]

hiii can i pls request zayne with prompt 60 “home”? also love ur writing btw and i look forward to reading more of ur works <333

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

60. home

zayne; 2,264 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", whipped!zayne, implied sex, fade to black, zayne being a simp as per usual

summary: a friday afternoon

a/n: idk i just love writing dialogue for zayne he's so !!!!

The Hospital - Friday, 4:36PM

Linoleum floors and fluorescent lights; the smell of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeps and hums of heart rate monitors and nebulizer machines. He spends too much time here, knows the flow of the hospital like he knows the web of arteries and capillaries in the human body, the wards branching off of each other, the hustle and bustles of nurses and staff familiar, oppressive.

It is only in the quiet of his own office, with its big windows and even bigger piles of paperwork (be it virtual or physical), that he ever allows himself to relax. He glances at the vase of brightly colored tulips on his desk and allows himself a grin. He remembers the shape of you, can feel the weight of your hand in his as you’d tugged him around the farmer’s market on Sunday morning, pointing at the various vendors, asking to try a bite of this and a bit of that, until finally, you’d come across the flower seller — a middle-aged woman with a sweet smile and a gleeful glint in her eyes as she explained about the language of flowers.

“There’s sunshine in your smile,” you’d repeated, looking down at the yellow tulips before grinning up at Zayne.

“Perfect for you, isn’t it?”

He could hear the tease in your voice, see that familiar playful twinkle in your eyes and he’d raised an eyebrow before wordlessly handing over a few bills from his wallet.

And now the flowers sit, quiet save for all their brilliance, on his desk, in a simple vase filled with crystal-clear water. He stares at it for a second longer before pulling out his phone and swiping it open to your contact.

Coming home early today, he texts. Immediately, a typing bubble appears, and a second later, a short shoomp sound as your reply appears on his screen —

oh? dr. zayne leaving work early??? is the sun setting in the east today?

He chuckles to himself before dialing your line and a second later, your voice answers, a little hesitant.

“Hello?”

“If you’re going to be sarcastic, at least do it in person.”

Shuffling noises, and then — “Not my fault you’re never around for me to be mean to you in person.”

Zayne leans back in his chair with a sigh, “Hn. How’s shopping with Tara?”

“Fun! But my legs are getting tired…”

“I can meet you at the main shopping center around 5:30.”

A moment of quiet, and then “Ah… but that’s still an hour from now…”

Zayne scoffs, “I could stay till 7PM like I usually do —”

“No, no! That’s… that’s not what I meant — I’ll see you at 5:30, then? Don’t be late!”

You end the call before he can protest and for a second, Zayne stares at the screen, the picture of your smiling face fading after another few seconds as the phone screen darkens.

“Doctor? Your next patient is here,” the nurse calls through his closed door.

“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Zayne glances once more at the yellow tulips on his desk before pushing himself up and adjusting his white coat. He’ll have to make a note to change the water soon.

City Center Shopping Mall - Friday, 5:38PM

“You made it!”

Zayne turns at the sound of your voice to find you slightly breathless as you jog up to him, coming to a stop a few steps away.

“You sound surprised.”

A blush dusts your cheeks as you avert your eyes, “I — I’m not! I just thought… you might be a bit later than this.”

Zayne keeps his expression neutral even as he reaches out to take your hand, casually lacing his fingers between yours. He feels you give him a small squeeze and contents himself with letting you take the lead as the pair of you start to wander through the mall, glancing at the window displays.

“Oh… that smells good!” you both pause as the smell of scallions and garlic warms the air. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, “I think it’s coming from that restaurant over there! Tara was telling me that it just opened a week ago and it’s already going viral online for their stuffed pancakes —”

“C’mon then.” Zayne starts off for the restaurant.

“W-wait! We don’t have a reservation! We’ll never get in!”

Zayne keeps walking, gently tugging you behind him till you both round the corner to see a truly impressive line outside the restaurant doors. He walks passed the massive line straight to the front where a smiling girl in a flowery apron stands at an electronic podium, taking down the names of the next party in line.

“Is Liam here?”

“O-oh! Uhm, I think so!” the girl blinks, surprised as she looks down at her reservation list, “May I ask who’s asking?”

“Zayne.”

The girl nods as she slips into the restaurant. Beside him, you look up, confused.

“Do you know someone here?”

Zayne nods but doesn’t explain any further as the smiling girl comes back and motions for you both to follow her.

“Right this way Dr. Zayne! Enjoy your meal!”

Zayne gives your hand a small tug as you stumble after him, the confusion on your face blossoming into something like surprise as the pair of you duck into the bustling restaurant to be greeted by an enthusiastic young man, around Zayne’s age, his sleeves rolled up, a bandana tied around his forehead.

“Zayne! You should’ve told me you were coming!”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Zayne supplies, shaking Liam’s hand firmly, pulling you into his side even as Liam’s eyes slide onto you.

“Oh… is this the girl you were always talking about back in —”

“I think we’ll take a booth in the back, thanks,” Zayne cuts him off with a loud cough, already making for the back of the restaurant. Liam laughs good-naturedly, leading you both to a booth tucked in the very corner, away from most of the noise and bustle.

You inch into the booth, casting Zayne a curious look.

“Is that the owner? How do you know him?”

Zayne doesn’t look up as he glances over the menu before pushing it towards you.

“We went to medical school together. Pick anything you want, it’s all very good.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “And he decided to become a chef instead?”

Zayne’s lips twitch, “Is that so unbelievable?”

You shrug, looking down at the menu at last, pursing your lips, “No… it’s just… did he drop out of med school then?”

Zayne shakes his head, “No, he was one of the best in our year.”

“Oh. Then…?”

Zayne taps the menu, “I thought you were hungry.”

You blush, looking down, “I am!”

It’s not till the middle of the meal that Zayne speaks again —

“He said it didn’t make him happy.”

You look up, your cheeks bulging with food. Zayne watches you swallow with a concerted effort, reaching out to wipe at your lips with an indulgent smile even as you swat at his hand.

“Liam? About… being a doctor?”

“Yes. And… in a way, I understood him. He said that the kitchen’s always felt more like home.”

You purse your lips, looking at your half-eaten stuffed pancake.

“Then… does the hospital feel like home? To you?”

Zayne chuckles, leaning forward to add some more veggies to your bowl with his chopsticks.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Then…” you trail off, waiting for his answer. There’s a familiar color seeping into your cheeks as Zayne looks you over before his eyes flicker down to your bowl.

“Eat. Or else the veggies will go cold.”

Zayne’s Apartment - Friday, 7:01PM

“I’m so full!” you slump down onto his couch with a long sigh, patting your stomach.

“You were the one who wanted seconds of dessert,” Zayne says, hanging up his coat and turning to join you on the couch. You make a small noise as he lifts your legs and lays them across his lap, his thumbs absently digging into the backs of your calves.

“Ow…” you make to jerk your leg away as he hits a knot but he only grips your ankle and pulls it back with a soft tut.

“Hold still.”

You bury your face in one of the couch cushions as he continues to silently knead at your calf muscles.

“There, better?” his voice is soft now, tugging on the frayed ends of your subconscious as you turn your head to blink at him, a bit dazed.

“Yeah… lots better. Thanks.”

You make to get up but he loops an arm around your back and lifts you easily from the couch, bridal style.

“Zayne?”

“You’re staying the night, right?” he asks, even as he makes for the bedroom.

“I — I am?”

He glances down at your face as he sets you down on his bed.

“I can still drive you home if you want —” He makes to pull away.

“No! I — I can stay. I mean — I want to stay.” You reach up to tug at his shirt, fingers crumpling the material as he stills. You can feel your cheeks blazing as his gaze flickers over your face before settling on your lips.

“Alright then.”

There’s a breath’s pause before you give his shirt another tentative tug and he tips forward with the motion, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.

A soft groan bubbles out of you as Zayne presses you back and back and back, until he’s caged over you, trailing hot lips down the line of your neck, skimming his teeth along your collarbones.

“Mm — Z-Zayne…?”

He pulls back, his eyes a bit unfocused as he looks you over — you can feel the weight of his gaze as it flutters over the planes and ridges of your face, from the arch of your brows to the line of your nose. You can’t help blushing beneath this intense scrutiny, and you tug once more at his shirt, your fingers somehow having inched up to his collar, one of your fingers hooked into the top loop of his buttons.

He reaches up to cover your hand with his, fingers easily curling around your smaller hand.

“What is it?”

You lick your lips, stomach twisting, the base rumble of his voice sending shivers shaking through your body.

“Nothing just… I don’t remember you drinking at dinner so…”

He leans down to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand before dropping it back to his shirt collar.

“No, but… alcohol’s not the only thing that might cause someone to lose hold of their senses…”

You watch as his eyes darken at your intake of breath, the way his grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Then…” you swallow, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his lips trail back up your neck to your jaw.

“Are you going to make me say it?”

You let out a tiny whimper as he presses a leg up between yours, his breath now hot against the lobe of your ear.

“Say… what?”

Zayne pulls back just far enough to cock an eyebrow at you. And like this, you’ve never seen anything so alluring — the sight of him with his shirt tugged open, his eyes blown dark with desire, his hair slightly mussed from your eager fingers, his lips kissed pink, his cheeks warm with color.

“Hn. Is this my punishment then?”

“For what?”

“For being late to meet you.”

You fight back a grin, “Well… you did say I could be mean to you in person.”

Zayne lets out a sigh, “Alright then.”

You walk your fingers up his chest before pushing him back till you’re both sitting up again. He waits patiently for you to push him down and straddle his hips, slowly tugging open the buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie till it hangs undone around his neck. You lean in to press a soft kiss to his chest and revel in the way he hisses.

His fingers reach up for your hips and you catch them with a quick shake of your head.

“No touching… not till I say.”

Zayne stares at you for a second before relaxing and letting his hands fall back onto the sheets.

And it’s not until you lean down to kiss at his exposed abdomen that he groans, head tipping back. Then, a second later, you find yourself pinned beneath him, breathless, Zayne towering over you with parted lips, the moon casting stark shadows along the lines of his face.

“I said you could be mean… I didn’t say I wouldn’t retaliate.”

After, when the pair of you are curled into each other like pieces of jigsaw puzzle that’s finally found its missing parts, his breath warm along the nape of your neck, Zayne finds himself smiling.

“It’s always been you…” he murmurs, though he’s nearly certain you’re already asleep, your breathing sweet and level, your body pliant and perfect against his.

He laces his hands between yours and drops a soft kiss onto the skin of your bare shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter what I do… or where I do it… because my home has always been… you.”

[sseulforgii]

I'll Call You Mine

Myoui Mina x Reader

a/n: a little post-holiday girl in red inspired fluff for @keervah just because 🤭 I’m sorry it took so long and I hope you’ll like it 🙈

“Rainy days and bad luck come in my way. I look for you when I’m lost so I don’t go insane”

“Aw fuck!”

You curse at the sky as you feel huge drops of rain fall on your face. You grumble to yourself. Of course it’s today of all days that it rains! 29% chance of rain this week and it’s when you’re already late, tired, and cold. You’re already halfway to the bus station and you can’t risk going back home to get an umbrella ‘cause you’re already running late.

You brisk walk all the way to the bus station as the patter of rain starts to pick up. You glance at your watch, five more minutes before the bus arrives, and you heaved a sigh. Everywhere looks so festive, it’s Christmas eve after all and people are enjoying the holidays. You watched them miserably because today you have been called to report to work because your co-worker had an “emergency” and your supervisor was either stupid or favors your co-worker that they didn’t say anything and called you over.

You honestly could’ve said “no” since it was a last minute notice, but you work in healthcare and also needed the extra cash because you’ve been eyeing a cute sweater and a lego set you wanted to buy for your longtime crush, Mina. You smiled as you thought about your adorable introvert. You weren’t officially dating but you’re sure there was something between you because of the way Mina’s eyes shine when she sees you or how she lets loose her cute laughter and her gummy smile just for you. You’ve been going on cute little dates for months now and you remembered Mina’s kid-like excitement when you both saw that humongous Hogwarts lego set at a store you passed by. You secretly took note of that because Mina and legos and Mina building legos and Mina’s little happy dance - you were full on smiling now and felt warm because of the thought.

A loud honk shook you out of your reverie as the bus stopped in front of you and you can feel yourself slipping to your previous bad mood once again. You sat near the window and looked out in disbelief. Of course the rain stopped when you’re finally inside. It’s like the universe is testing your patience today. You decided to text Mina, just to lighten your mood a bit even though you have to inform her that you can’t spend Christmas eve together because of work. Mina, bless her beautiful soul, replied in an instant and you just about melted. She sent you a photo of her in a Christmas sweater holding a yule log with a text saying “Let’s eat this together when you get back and go to the Christmas market after.”

You were restless at work and you catch yourself glancing at the clock almost every few minutes. It’s pretty late and you’re sure Mina’s having dinner with her family already. Your goal was to go straight to the store after your shift on Christmas morning to buy that lego set and spend the rest of Christmas day with her. You’re in a brighter mood just thinking about how happy it will make her and you used that thought to fuel you for the rest of your shift. You received a text from Mina a few hours before midnight, “Merry Christmas, y/n. I wish you were here so tonight. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow morning!” She was so cute and it got you all giddy! You sent her an apology and told her you’d want to spend Christmas eve with her too but you assured her that tomorrow will be a fun day for the both of you. Her swift reply came, “I can’t wait! Good luck with the rest of your shift. I’ll see you tomorrow,” with a kissy face photo of her attached. You felt your cheeks heat up and you were trying to suppress a giggle. She’s the most adorable person ever! Now you’re more determined and happy thinking that this extra shift was all worth it when you see her tomorrow.

Finally, an hour left before your shift ends. You send the store a quick message asking to wrap up the Hogwarts lego set and sent them the payment. This way, you just need to drop by to get it and save you time. You can’t wait to spend your first Christmas with Mina! A few minutes passed and you received a text from your supervisor and your mood darkened incredibly. The employee assigned after your shift could not make it and there isn’t anyone else available to take over so you need to stay for their shift, which unfortunately for you is a double shift.

You can feel your temper rising. You wanted to scream and curse at someone but you really had no choice, it’s not like you’d be able to just leave your work and leave your patients to tend to themselves. You were in a very terrible mood as you counted the hours and realized you’d be missing the Christmas market when your shift ends because it closes early for their last day. You type out a message to your supervisor begging them to find someone to at least cover half the shift you’re forced to do. You had plans today and you feel like everything is ruined and you don’t even know what to tell Mina.

Your heart was heavy as your supposed shift ended and the new one started. As if on cue, Mina texted you good morning and that she couldn’t wait to see you. You were devastated and the festive mood long gone. You were disappointed at yourself for promising so much and not being able to make good on it, especially since this is Mina. You sent her an apology and an explanation not really in the mood anymore. Of course, because this is Mina, she understood and told you she’d still be waiting to spend Christmas with you no matter when your shift ends. You send out a halfhearted reply and another apology before burying your phone deep in your pocket not wanting to send more false promises. You informed the lego store of your predicament and the store owner asked if you’d want to pick it up at their residence instead if you don’t make it before the store closes. You say yes and thank them, thankful that their address is close to Mina’s. At least you can pick it up along the way.

The rest of the day was a blur. In the end, no one arrived to split your shift with you and it made you feel numb. It was already dark when the next person came in for the shift after yours. You sluggishly got ready to leave and sent both the store owner and Mina that you were on your way and apologized for how late it was. Thankfully the travel back was uneventful although you were really devastated as you watch people heading home with smiles on their faces.

Only a few more hours ‘til Christmas was over and you feel salty for only having that amount of time with Mina. You knew yourself well enough that you might end up ruining this night with her because you really are in a terrible mood and didn’t wanna see her disappointed face. So as you walked towards the store owner’s house you contemplated on just giving your Christmas gift and heading home.

You thanked the store owner as he gave you the huge box and apologized for the trouble. He was still all smiles and wished you Merry Christmas before you went on your way. A couple of houses before Mina’s you stopped and texted her that you’re almost at her door and wanted to give her something. You kept walking afterwards even after you felt your phone vibrate from her reply. You spotted her sitting at the foot of their porch. All wrapped in an oversized sweater and an elf hat sitting atop her head. Your heart warmed at the sight but guilt kept you from being truly happy to see her.

But Mina, known for her introverted and calm demeanor, just about beamed and ran when she spotted you. She enveloped you in a hug before dragging you to the door. You smiled halfheartedly and stopped her. You wanted to say you’re just there to give her a Christmas present and leave, but before you can even get anything out she looked at you sternly and said, “Nope. You’re staying. I prepared a bath for you and warm clothes and a surprise. So you’re staying. Got that?” You looked at her and can’t decide whether to smile or get scared because she looks so adorable with her elf hat and furrowed brows. All you were able to do was nod and utter a small “yes, ma’am” before she gave you a gummy smile and pushed you inside the house.

Mina just realized you were holding a gigantic box when you’re finally inside the house and gave you a questioning look. You chuckled lightly, “This is your Christmas present and I wanna see you open it.” Mina smiled at you widely, “Okay but first a warm bath! I know you’re really tired so take your time and relax. The clothes are in the bathroom, go” she pushed you towards the bathroom as she dragged out the last syllables. You were surprised with what you saw inside. The bathroom smells like peppermint and there were candles that cast a warm glow. An assortment of Christmas themed bath bomb were by the tub and a pair of fluffy pajamas and sweater were by the counter. You can already feel yourself relaxing and your mood lifting as you take in the scene before you.

You took your time in the bath as you were trying to shake off your bad mood because Mina has been trying to cheer you up. You got dressed and was drying your hair when you stopped and stared at the mirror. You didn’t notice it at first but the sweater you’re wearing has a huge penguin wearing a Santa hat. You can’t help but giggle now and hugged yourself thinking of how this is the sweetest gesture you’ve gotten. Finally in a better mood than when you first arrived.

You excited the bathroom and made your way to the living room to see Mina in a similar outfit placing two mugs of what smells like hot chocolate on the table. She looked at you and cooed at how adorable you are in your outfit. “I knew it would suit you!” She said as she straightened up and you saw her sweater has a huge black cat with a red scarf looped around its neck. “It’s me and you,” she said shyly as she saw you looking back and forth at her sweater and yours “Do you like it?” She asked as she batted her eyes at you. You smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day and enveloped her in a hug. “I love it so much!” You said against her hair and she giggled.

She made you sit on the couch and gave you a mug of hot chocolate with little marshmallows on them before disappearing into the kitchen. She returned with the yule log and a couple of forks in her hand and placed it in front of you. “It’s still Christmas after all,” she said as she picked up her own mug and sat beside you placing her head on your shoulder. You put your mug down and held her. “I’m sorry I was in a bad mood earlier,” you started “I just really wanted to spend our first Christmas together the best way. I know how much you wanted to see the lights and decor around the Christmas market and we weren’t even able to go.” She looked at you lovingly then and cuddled closer, “But we are spending the Christmas the best way. It doesn’t matter that it’s a little late, at least you’re here now. And besides, I have another surprise for you!” She suddenly stood up and placed her mug on the table before putting her hand out to help you up.

She dragged you to her bedroom door, mischief dancing in her eyes as she looked at you. “I knew you were sad that we didn’t get go enjoy the pretty Christmas scene so….” She then opened the door and you stare at everything in awe. “I just brought them here for you.” She finished quietly. You took in the whole room as you entered. Christmas lights were strewn on the ceiling and a small Christmas tree sat on her dresser decorated with cute ornaments and fake snow. Fairy lights cascaded over the shelves, the window, and her headboard. Everything looks so magical that it took your breath away. “Mina…” you let out her name in a whisper, words failing you with how sweet and wonderful her surprise is. You look at her beside you and her eyes were shining and expectant as she looks at your glowing face. You held her close, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “Thank you. This is the best Christmas ever.” She giggled and hugged you tightly before pulling back a little. She stared at you shyly this time and pointed upwards.

You look up and saw a mistletoe and you felt your face heat up. She was so adorable with her mischievous eyes and her shy smile that you can’t help but giggle and give her a small smirk. She hit you playfully before standing on her tiptoes, you pulled her in for your first kiss. It was chaste and warm and perfect. Just like your Mina. “You’re what I want for Christmas, y/n. And I hope you want me too,” she said with so much love and adoration that you thought your heart was gonna burst. You leaned in for another kiss as words are not enough to tell her how much you want this too. You stopped to catch your breath and rested your forehead against hers. “You’re mine.” You said against her lips and she giggled.

“Now how are you gonna top my best Christmas gift ever?” She playfully teased and you lit up, excited to give her the lego set you bought. “Come see,” you smirked at her, “I’m sure you’d love it” you said as you took her hand and led her out to the living room again. You moved the small table to make way and sat on the carpeted floor before placing the box in front of you. You gestured for her to sit on the opposite side and told her to open it.

You can’t decide which was better, her heartfelt confession earlier or how she was squealing like a little girl right now. Like you imagined, she was as excited and as giddy as a little kid on Christmas morning. You were beaming as you watch her take out the pieces and tried to hug the huge box against her. “BEST GIFT EVER” you heard her muffled exclamation. You laughed and pried the box off of her hands before teasingly said, “better than me being yours?” Her eyebrows shot up so fast, eyes wide but also teasing. “Nope! I’ll always call you mine.” She said with a grin.

You spent the rest of the night drinking hot chocolate and building the lego. You can’t help but think then that there isn’t any other way you wanna spend Christmas.

[firstkanaphans]

P'Dome released a 3-chapter chat fic set in the Peaceful Property universe as a Christmas present to the fandom. You can view the first chapter here in Thai and I have translated the text below for anyone interested. I will translate the other two chapters as well, but it may take me a few days. Enjoy!

Mon, 23/12 Vimarnsukman Ghost-Hunting Co.

go HOME!: [rock ‘n roll Santa gif reading “MERRY X-MAS!!!”] go HOME!: let’s play secret santaaaaaaa pangx2🍞: screammmmm pangx2🍞: yes yes yes yes yes yes Lawyer Kan: If I could interrupt the fun na ka Lawyer Kan: I’ve told you before ka Lawyer Kan: If you want to talk about something unrelated to work Lawyer Kan: Please go chat in the group “Vimarnsukman Recreation” ka go HOME!: 🙄🙄🙄 pangx2🍞: Maeeeee pangx2🍞: Me and P’Home are the only ones who respond in that group pangx2🍞: Mae and Hia won’t even send a sticker Lawyer Kan: I respond ka go HOME!: 🤔 Lawyer Kan: In my head pangx2🍞: [gif of a cartoon rabbit reading “WOW”] Lawyer Kan: If Khun Peach doesn’t respond, I’m not responding either ka peach93: Kan… go HOME!: 🤣🤣🤣 go HOME!: let’s play naaaaaaaa go HOME!: we can pick a date now go HOME!: christmas eve, tuesday the 24th, at the restaurant pangx2🍞: Is there a theme, Por? pangx2🍞: In case I want to make content for my channel 💅🏼💅🏼💅🏼 Suradech Ketmuangrong: What is “secret satan”? go HOME!: [Halloween gif reading “BOO HAPPY HALLOWS EVE”] go HOME!: a halloween theme! go HOME!: since we’re ghost hunters 😎 Lawyer Kan: I need some additional details na ka Lawyer Kan: What is the price limit ka? Lawyer Kan: I want to make sure I follow the rules ka go HOME!: no limit baby go HOME!: up to you ka go HOME!: just put some heart into it 😘 Lawyer Kan: Would it be possible for me not to play ka? pangx2🍞: You have to play, Mae!!! pangx2🍞: @ Suradech Ketmuangrong I will teach you!

3 days ago Fr, 20/12 peach93 & go HOME!

peach93: Ai’Home peach93: Are you busy? go HOME!: [Phone call with Peach lasting 3:07:13] peach93: 🙂 go HOME!: [gif of Donald Duck tucking himself into bed that says “GOOD NIGHT!”]

Sat, 21/12

peach93: [Phone call to Home. No response] peach93: [Phone call to Home. No response] go HOME!: Sorry! I was outside go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response] go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response]

Sun, 22/12

go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response] go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response] go HOME!: dude go HOME!: don’t play hard to get man go HOME!: please call me

Today Mon, 23/12

go HOME!: hey mueng! go HOME!: i got your sister for secret santa go HOME!: what’s she into these days? go HOME!: … go HOME!: silence  go HOME!: are you still sulking? peach93: I’m not sulking! peach93: I’m busy with other people go HOME!: what other people? peach93: [picture of a temple] go HOME!: Ai’Peach! go HOME!: I told you not to go!!!! peach93: Well, I went peach93: What are you going to do about it now? go HOME!: mueng go HOME!: it wasn't just me. the villagers said not to go either go HOME!: that it’s not an ordinary ghost go HOME!: it’s a demon go HOME!: [gif from Attack on Titan of men running] go HOME!: have you ever seen Attack on Titan? peach93: Isn’t this better than doing nothing? peach93: The villagers needed help, so I had to come go HOME!: you have to help yourself first, asshole go HOME!: just opening the restaurant every day is already incredibly tiring go HOME!: you still go to the market by yourself every morning peach93: I invite you every morning peach93: Why don’t you go with me? go HOME!: i’m not a morning person ka go HOME!: so what's your plan? go HOME!: when the sun goes down, you go off and fight demons? go HOME!: no wonder you asked to close the restaurant today go HOME!: it’s because of this na go HOME!: i don’t like it peach93: That’s my job! go HOME!: I don’t care go HOME!: why haven’t you been answering the phone? peach93: I already told you. I came to help the villagers go HOME!: you’re sulking. just admit it. go HOME!: ai’peach go HOME!: you know why i don’t want you to go go HOME!: it’s dangerous go HOME!: it’s so dangerous man  go HOME!: if something happened to you... peach93: Yeah yeah yeah. I know. go HOME!: Send me your location peach93: 🐳🐋 [Translator’s note: the word for “location” is the same as the word for “dolphin.”] go HOME!: that’s a whale peach93: [sends his location] go HOME!:🐻‍❄🐻‍❄️

5 hours later Tue, 24/12 01:13

peach93: Are you home yet? go HOME!: [Gif of Donkey from Shrek shaking his head. Gif reads “NOPE.”] peach93: You should have just slept over in my room like I said go HOME!: your bed is too small go HOME!: it’s uncomfortable peach93: You’re so spoiled, Khun Noo peach93: I didn’t hear you complaining when we were working together to set up the restaurant go HOME!: I was drunkkkkkkkk go HOME!: that doesn’t count! peach93: 555 peach93: Fine peach93: Thank you for coming na peach93: 🙂 go HOME!: Come on na. Who is it? go HOME!: the name of the villager peach93: Asshole. I’m not talking to you anymore. go HOME!: 🤣🤣🤣 go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response.] go HOME!: hey! go HOME!: what’s the matter? why aren’t you picking up? peach93: Aren’t you with P’Suradech? go HOME!: yes. why? peach93: Call me when you get to your room. go HOME!: why?  go HOME!: are you embarrassed? peach93: I’m not embarrassed! go HOME!: sure sure sure

44 minutes later

go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach lasting 02:08:09] peach93: 🙂 go HOME!: [Gif of Jerry from Tom and Jerry crawling into bed with the caption “NIGHTY NIGHT”] go HOME!: hey wait go HOME!: what does your sister like na? go HOME!: damn it! we talked for hours  go HOME!: i forgot to ask go HOME!: 5555 peach93: No matter what you get her, Pang will love it. peach93: just put some heart into it 😘 go HOME!: dude go HOME!: r u bullying me? go HOME!: [sticker of angry kitten] peach93: 55555555555

Tue, 24/12 11:03 pangx2🍞 & Lawyer Kan

pangx2🍞: Mae pangx2🍞: [Picture of Peach and Home asleep in bed together] pangx2🍞: What does this mean!!!!!! Lawyer Kan: … Lawyer Kan: I think this is how boys have fun ka pangx2🍞: Mae! I’m serious! pangx2🍞: since when did they start seeing each other? pangx2🍞: Mae! Why do you never answer me? pangx2🍞: fine Pangx2🍞invites Suradech Ketmuangrong to the chat pangx2🍞: P’ Suradech Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup pangx2🍞:  [Picture of Peach and Home asleep in bed together] Lawyer Kan: You didn't have to send it again ka pangx2🍞: Does P’Suradech already know ka!!!! Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup pangx2🍞: omgggg since when ka! Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup pangx2🍞: since the day the restaurant opened? pangx2🍞: screammmmmmmmm Lawyer Kan: Khun Pang ka Lawyer Kan: All Khun Saradech said was “krup” ka pangx2🍞: Mae, be careful pangx2🍞: this is a company secret na pangx2🍞: you’re violating section 19/93, paragraph 1991 Lawyer Kan: Where did you get that information ka? pangx2🍞: I just typed random numbers pangx2🍞: but that’s not the point! pangx2🍞: Mae! pangx2🍞: this kind of thing affects the stability of the company na Lawyer Kan: It’s all true. Just like you said, Khun Pang ka pangx2🍞: Then tonight we will reveal this secret to make them lose face!!!! Lawyer Kan: Your life seems very empty, Khun Pang na ka pangx2🍞: secret santa ❌ secret lover ✅ pangx2🍞: Ai’Hia Peach! Ai’P’Home! pangx2🍞: I will see you tonight for sure!!! Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup

To be continued

Chapter 2

[betterinvienna]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ

caleb x gen!reader

masterlist ao3 requests

synopsis:

Caleb is sick. So very sick. He loves you so much.

The gunshot, this time, still doesn’t wake the neighbors.

He loves you too much.

How could anyone deserve you? Will you stay? Please?

Say yes.

[ 3.8k words — dark(?) romance — warnings: murder, drugging, kidnapping ]

author's note:

it's my first time writing something like this, but i love caleb so i'm trying my hand at it and hoping that i get better at it. oh. and im a lore skipper so please forgive me if anything is ooc here. please listen to angel by massive attack while reading. thank you for reading!!! i hope u like

It’s Tuesday, and it’s your only day off.

Four years in an esteemed university, a marketing degree, and top-notch grades, and you’re working at the same firm as your high school ex-friends. You’d berate yourself for the pathetic nature in which you’ve ended up, but you’re much too tired often days to think much past what you’re having for dinner. Spoiler: it’s pizza, again.

On your days—sorry, day—off, you enjoy hanging out with friends or simply staying home. Something as simple as a spaghetti dinner with an extremely corny Netflix Original is enough to satisfy you. This Tuesday, your friend Caleb has offered to take you out to the pier down south. You declined, though, because you’re going on a date with your boyfriend today. Caleb isn’t trapped in the same whirlpool you are—after high school, he went to pilot school and now flies commercial airplanes for a living. You bite your lip in envy, wishing you had taken the same path. Alas, you didn’t, and your company laptop bings with an email. You decide not to check it, instead opting to lazily dip your hand into a party-sized bag of Doritos.

You met Caleb one day in the library, studying for your seemingly useless marketing degree. You spoke, exchanged your then high opinions on your paths of study and interests, and waved each other goodbye. From then on, he found you each time you were at that library, offering to study with you but instead, each time inevitably going into an unrelated conversation. This continued until you exchanged numbers and graduated—you figured you wouldn’t see Caleb after that, but he persisted in maintaining your friendship. 

In a way, you’re thankful for him. You’re thankful, even though you don’t tell him, that he’s stuck around so long.

You pop your fingers into your mouth to clean the Dorito dust off of them as your boyfriend, Nate, texts you. Nate is a good guy, sure. But your relationship feels more like a friendship nowadays. You love him; you really do, and you’ve tried to mend the bond. Over-the-top Valentine’s day gifts, excessive PDA, constant love declarations—needless to say, the deterioration of this relationship simply cannot be accredited to your laziness, but rather, his. You know this, yes, but you also hope the date today will fix everything. Will make him love you again. You reluctantly check your phone, fearing an apology rather than an “are you ready?” message. Instead, it’s a simple two word message: “call me.”

So you do.

Nate picks up after two dials. “Hello?”

“Nate?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He says, as if he forgets his own name. “Look…”

You sigh. “No,” you deny hearing whatever he’s going to say, “I already made the reservations.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says the baby hesitantly, as if it's a curse word, “something came up. I just can’t make it.”

You shake your head and rub your temple from beyond the screen. “It’s fine.” You mumble and respond in a tone much softer than the last. “Call me when you’re free, okay?”

Nate does not respond. He hums an illegitimate answer and hangs up, leaving you to your own devices and sticky Dorito fingers.

As if it was second nature, you take those Dorito fingers and use them to dial Caleb instead, not wanting your reservation to be completely wasted. Like he was waiting for your call on the other end of the phone, he picks up immediately.

“Hey, pip-squeak,” he chirps, “what’s up?”

You mournfully groan. “Are you busy today?”

Caleb takes a pregnant pause, as if he’s doing something right now. Something clanks in the background, confirming your suspicions. “No.” 

“You’re lying.”

“Not. Whaddya wanna do?”

Selfishly, you offer the schedule anyway. “My boyfriend cancelled on me.” On the other end of the line, Caleb makes a sympathetic noise. You continue. “Had a reservation at that restaurant down at the pier today. Are you coming?” 

“Abso—yeah, I am. When?”

You sigh, preparing to be met with further pities. “Three hours. I know it’s short notice, I don’t expe—”

“I’ll pick you up?”

You scoff. “Yeah. Thank you, Caleb, really.”

“Anytime, pip-squeak.”

—

Beggars can’t be choosers is the mantra you repeat when Caleb picks you up on his motorcycle again. The helmet forces your hair into an ugly shape, the speed of the bike shifts your insides, and the perilous nature of it all is an extreme deterrent. 

Unfortunately, Caleb just ruffles your hair as you pout at your mode of transportation. 

“It’ll be just 5 minutes,” Caleb assures you, “hop on.” He pushes a helmet onto you and flips the glass part of it down, giving you a stomach-churning smirk as he does the same for himself and pats the area behind him. You reluctantly get on, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revs the motorcycle. 

“Hang on, pip-squeak!”

You yell over the engine. “I’ll try!”

He punctuates your words by letting his foot off of the brake, finally sending you two down the street. “You okay?”

You rest your jaw in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and trying not to throw up. You hum a response, but you don’t know if he hears you. A motorcycle isn’t exactly prime time for in-depth conversation, so instead, he begins to cruise and cautiously rubs your knee to soothe you. “Almost there.” 

You groan, unconsciously pinching his shirt rather than holding around his waist. He corrects your form, taking the hand that was on your knee and flattening it against your hand on his stomach. 

“Hold,” Caleb concisely assulerts, guiding your hand to the edge of his waist, “nearly there.” 

The movement borders on hand-holding, but he doesn’t interlock your fingers together. Your face begins to feel hot—or maybe it’s the humid weather—and you pull back slightly from Caleb, silently hoping your heart isn’t beating hard enough to be felt against his back.

The excruciating ride comes to an end with Caleb parking the motorcycle near the entrance of the pier. He dusts himself off, then adjusts his shirt sleeves and takes your helmet off, ruffling your hair up. You mumble a grievance, but he brings his finger up to his lip to hush you and he pokes your cheek. 

He points to the time on his phone as you two walk the remaining distance to the restaurant. “Look at that. We’re early.” He chuckles at your annoyed expression and promises a car ride next time. 

“No—it’s fine,” you quickly respond, “we can still take the bike.”

Caleb gives you an inquisitive look. “Oh?” He pushes open the door to the restaurant with his shoulder, still looking at you. “Coming around to it?” You give him a look, and he puts his hands up in faux surrender. 

The restaurant’s hostess waits at the turn on a podium and cheerfully greets you two. “Hi! We’re a bit full. Do you have a reservation?” 

Caleb puts his hands in his pockets and lets you do the talking. You give the waitress a warm smile, telling her your name and your reservation time. 

The hostess beams with another round of performative, customer service joy. “Right! And this,” she gestures to Caleb,” is the boyfriend you mentioned?” You expect Caleb to deny the assumption, but he just glances at you.

“No, he, um, cancelled. This is just my friend.” You look away from Caleb, but out of the corner of your eye, you can see his breath begin to shallow. The hostess doesn’t notice the shift in his demeanor and offers you two a high-pitched, realizing “oh!” and ushers you to your designated table. 

When Caleb slides into the seat across from you, he improperly puts his elbows on the table, flipping through the menu and looking up at you through his lashes every now and then. The waiter comes around to take your drink orders, and you awkwardly order a water. Caleb follows suit in the ordering with some tastier sounding drink, and the air is even stuffier than the preceding hour. 

Why is the air stuffy?

“Water?” Caleb leans back a bit in his chair, letting out a laugh. “Are you onna diet, pip-squeak?” 

You silently thank and bless him for breaking the tension, because you certainly wouldn’t. You shrug and sigh heavily, although it comes out a bit shakier than you’d like. “My stomach’s a bit flippy,” you lie, toying with the edge of the table, “I probably shouldn’t have invited you—I know you’re busy.”

Caleb leans forward and tugs at his sleeves. “I’m free now, aren’t I?”

The waiter, a tall, skinny redhead, returns with your two drinks. “Are you ready to order?” He prompts. 

You look towards Caleb, who is already pointing out obscured menu items to the waiter and mumbling something you can’t hear from the other side of the table. The waiter scribbles them down, looks at you expectantly, and leaves when you tell him you’re having what Caleb is having. 

You scratch your forehead, checking your phone every couple minutes to see if Nate had texted. Of course, you opened your phone each time to an empty lockscreen apart from your phone’s Settings begging you to free up space.

You decide to make conversation. “How’s flying?”

Caleb looks up from his phone, shaking his head from side to side, as if to say so-so. “Pretty boring. What do you think about me being in the air force instead?” He fiddles with the napkin. “Feelin’ like commercial really isn’t my thing.”

Images of Caleb in a well-fitted air force uniform flicker like a dull light in your head, and you close your eyes and laugh it off. He thinks you’re laughing at him, though, so he grumbles playfully and mumbles something about him being destined to do aerial tricks in the sky. 

“I think you’d do great, Caleb.”

He chuckles. “Knew you’d say that, pip-squeak.”

The frail waiter comes back, balancing your two plates on one even thinner black platter. He lets out a sigh of relief when the plates find their way to their owners and tells you both to enjoy.

The dish in front of you is nothing like Caleb’s—but it’s everything like yours. You make a hmm? sound, and Caleb parts from slicing away at his way-too-well-done steak to point at your plate of pasta. “Also knew you’d say, ‘whatever he’s having,’ so I took care of that. Is that alright?” He scans your face for discontent, but you give him a smile and a heavy sigh, finally putting your phone away.

“Yeah, it is. Thanks, Caleb. How’d you know what I’d like, though?”

He simply laughs and nods, stuffing steak into his cheek as if winter is going to come and take it from him, leaving the answer ambiguous.

—

Your time at the restaurant with Caleb dragged into the late hours, and the chill of the night hits your face as you ding your way back out of the restaurant. Your phone buzzes again, for what seems like the twentieth time tonight, and again, you ignore it, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to produce some illusion of heat. 

Caleb shrugs his jacket off of his shoulders, draping them over yours. You open your mouth to protest, but he promptly interrupts you. “Uber or the motorcycle?”

Your face contorts in confusion. “How’re you going to get your motorcycle back then?” 

He glances at you and gestures for you to follow him to another side of the curb. “Uber back later.” He says it matter-of-factly, as if it was a given. 

You breathe out an oh, the puff of air visible in the cold. “Motorcycle is fine.”

“You sure, pip? You just ate and you hate it as is.” Caleb’s face turns to one of concern. 

“I’ll be okay.” You shrug, walking over to where his motorcycle is parked. 

He pushes his lip up in an okay then motion, helmets the two of you, and brings your jacketed arms around his waist when he straddles the front. Your phone buzzes against your leg again, and you ignore it. “Don’t throw up on me, pip-squeak.”

You give him an incoherent sound, and he revs up the motorcycle, yelling something you don’t care for over the engine. You clench your ab muscles in pure anti-projectile-vomiting will as he swerves through the streets, navigating to your house, and your nails dig into Caleb’s side, even as he slows down near your house.

Under the helmet, Caleb’s eyes narrow at the car next to yours in your driveway. “Bought a second car, pip?”

No.

You didn’t. 

You recognize that car. Your heart drops and you, at last, check your phone. Thirteen missed calls and a flurry of text messages, all from Nate.

where are you? Need to talk

i’m coming to your house

open the door. I’ll sit in your driveway all night.

You tap Caleb’s side wordlessly, and he looks back at you in concern, his lips parted. 

“Go,” you mutter, “let’s go to your house instead. My, um, power’s out. Forgot.”

Caleb eyes the light that shines from the left side of your house, but he hums and revs the engine back to life again, swerving down an unfamiliar set of roads until you two reach his apartment complex. You tug your helmet off, refusing to meet Caleb’s eyes as you approach the door of the complex.

“Everything alright?”

You drone an mhm, scratching your nape.

As you ascend the stairs and open the door to Caleb’s apartment, you notice how blandly decorated the place is, and can’t help but to tease him for it. “Do you even live here?”

He chuckles, opening the fridge and pouring some cold water for you. “I’m usually in a plane.”

You purse your lips and draw images out of the condensation on the side of the cup. That makes sense. 

“You staying over for tonight?”

The question catches you mid-sip, and you shrug. “I mean, if you’ll let me.”

Something in Caleb’s eye glints. “No, yeah, ‘course, pip-squeak.”

You shrug his jacket off of your body, draping it over the couch as you flop down on it. 

“Is the power really out at your place, or did’ya just want to spend more time with Caleb?” Caleb leans on the back of the couch, looking down at you. You cover your eyes with your forearm, letting out an exasperated sigh but offering him at least a snort, as one would do to a terrible dad joke.

The couch sinks as your feet lift up, and when you prop yourself up on your forearms, Caleb’s lap is their new location as he clicks through irrelevant Netflix shows. He looks at you and points to the screen with the remote, asking what you’d like to watch.

You shake your head no and relax back down on the couch as he rubs your ankles. “I’m tired. Do you have another bed?”

He clicks his tongue. “You can just take my bed. My couch is big enough for me to sleep on.”

You give him a look, but he just puts a finger up to his lips and rises from the couch, offering a hand to get you up. “I’ve just gotta make the bed, though. Just took the bedding outta the washer this morning. Wanna help?”

You stretch after you get up, nodding a yes in between a yawn. 

The two of you enter his room, and it is just as grimly decorated as the rest of his house is. A boring desk fills up the right space of his bedroom and an even more monotonous snake plant acts as a sore excuse for decoration in the other corner. 

“Do you even know how to decorate?”

“Nope.”

The two of you work to put the silk cases back on the pillows and relocate the other bedding items so that they don’t get in your way. 

When you lift his mattress to put the first sheet on, something—no, many things, fall out from under the mattress—like polaroids, or other glossy pictures. You think of calling out to Caleb, but your mouth clamps shut when you catch a glimpse of what looks like your face in one. In another, a fog-blurred photo of you drying your hair after a bath, taken from a high angle. Caleb’s eyes follow yours, and he drops the mattress calmly, meeting your newly fully-awake eyes. 

“Caleb—is that—”

He hushes you, walking over to your side of the bed with a slow stride. You back up, wordlessly pointing to where the pictures still lie. 

“That’s not you.”

You begin to blubber incredulously, your head starting to feel heavy. He takes your hands in his gently, as if asking for forgiveness.

“That’s not you,” he repeats, “they’re just… it’s just a project I’m doing.”

Your eyes flutter with a fatigue heavier than before. You try to say something, to call him out on such a blatant lie, but all that is left of your voice is a mere squawk. 

Caleb holds you in his arms as your body begins to feel limp, muttering the same lines over and over again. In a dream-like state, you hear him say, “Promise I’ll take care of all of this. Just been waiting… It’ll be so good. For both of us.”

—

Caleb drives a sleek, black car to your address, tilting his head in mild pity when he still sees the same car in your driveway. He murmurs irritated curse words under his breath, exiting the car and tugging his cap down as he approaches the car.

He’d rather be sleeping right now, but he loves you too much.

The man in it is sound asleep, so he taps the drivers’ side and shines a rude flashlight into the man’s eyes. The man, Nate, jumps up in shock and immediately begins to back out of the driveway.

Unfortunately, he only hits Caleb’s perfectly parked car. Caleb tuts in disappointment and flexes a gloved hand, using his shirt and fist to bash Nate’s car window in. Nate yells, but the neighborhood is much too dead asleep to care. 

Caleb grabs Nate by the shirt, pulling him up close to his face. “I told you last time, didn’t I?”

Nate stutters something, and Caleb uses the blunt of the flashlight to rear back and knock some verbiage into him. 

Nate curses, holding his face. “I’m so sorry, man, I just—”

“You just what?”

Nate begins his useless rambling again and Caleb sighs, as if this is a waste of his time, slamming Nate’s head into his steering wheel. The honk is loud, but too clipped and still not loud enough to wake anyone up. 

Caleb laughs bitterly. 

“Do you think cheating on someone—” he punches Nate, holding his breath.

“So needy,” he finally opens the car door and drags him out onto your lawn. 

“So kind,” he serves him a foot to the stomach.

“So forgiving,” he kicks Nate around until he’s on his stomach, bloody and beaten.

“So perfect,” Caleb tugs Nate up by his hair, straddling his back and forcing him to look up at him. 

“Is something that a man of God would do?” Caleb eyes the beaded cross hanging from Nate’s mirror, then mockingly looks back at him with a faux-sympathetic look.

Nate begins to blubber a string of apologies. “I’m sorry, man, seriously. I came here just to break up, promise, but you’d do the same, you know, two beautifu—”

The gunshot, this time, still doesn’t wake the neighbors. Caleb tosses it to the side, thanking earlier him for purchasing a silencer. He drops Nate’s limp head onto the grass, dusting himself off as he looks at the pitiful body seeping blood into your freshly-trimmed lawn.

“Like hell I would.”

—

Your head bangs with an anger like never before. You try to bring your hands up to cradle your thumping head, but you’re met with the resistance of zip ties. 

“What?” You mumble.

As you come to, you squint and notice Caleb in the far distance, cooking something. You’re laying on the same bed you were asked to make, and Caleb is flipping pancakes like a sitcom father. Sun attacks your eyes and you screw them shut, feeling your headache worsening. Caleb looks behind him, notices your movements, and immediately turns off the stove, jogging towards you and shutting the curtains. 

“Hey, pip-squeak,” he soothes, “you’re awake.”

You furrow your brows at him, trying to move your ankle, but that too is zip tied, this time to the foot of his bed. “What?” You repeat, struggling to sit up.

He hushes you, gently pushing you back down onto the bed. “I’ll let you go in a minute, okay? Can’t just let a wounded animal free.”

The haze is finally beginning to clear up a bit more, and Caleb is double-checking if the black-out curtains are fully closed. “I saw the photos of me that you have and then you—you drugged me.”

Caleb snaps his head towards you with a look of tenderness, but also of hurt. “No, pip—well, yes—but I was planning on you just being able to hear me. Just not being able to be hurt. What I put in your water won’t harm you. I promise.”

You look around the room, and Caleb occupies the area next to you on the bed. He softly takes your face, tracing his hands down to your own hands. “Do these hurt?”

You reluctantly nod, so he cuts them off with scissors he produced from his back pocket. You flex your wrists, looking at him cautiously. 

“Just calm down, okay?” Caleb takes your hands in his, facing you with his full body. The zip tie on your ankle digs into your skin, so you wince. Caleb gets up, flips the cover over, and switches the restraint with something much more comfortable. He apologizes the whole way through, then returns to his spot beside you.

“Want you to stay with me forever, pip-squeak,” Caleb mumbles, bringing his hand up to soothe, or at least try to soothe, your frenzied face. He brings his forehead to meet yours. “God… it’s like you were sent for me.”

Your mouth drops. The unnamed drug still clouds your thoughts, so you breathe something along the lines of “I have a boyfriend… you’re crazy.”

Caleb clips and his face darkens. “No. I took care—um, he was cheating on you. He broke up with you last night. Check your messages.”

He gently ushers your cold phone into your hands, and you scroll through the messages of Nate saying that you’re over and that he “never really loved you anyway.”

Tears begin to stream down your face, and you cannot pinpoint their exact, singular cause. Caleb hushes you, taking your sobbing frame into his arms as he lets you cry into his shoulder. 

“I love you,” he hums, “I love you.”

He runs a hand through your hair, rubbing your back and pulling you closer.

“I love you,” he repeats.

[restlesspazzi04]

Love Island: A Pazzi Fic

Part 1: Day 3

Genre: I've somehow managed to think up a forbidden love/enemies to lovers/reformed player/slow burn love island fic all together so imma pat myself on the back bc ive been getting so many asks for all five

A/N:

This is just the introduction chapter to a series that will be very loosely updated as it's more of a fun project i'm working on but hope you guys enjoy because this is just me riding off the love island hyperfixation im in lol

Extra Note: this is will be on tumblr only mainly bc this series will be trash and purely for my self entertainment so idc as much. slow falling will remain on ao3 only :)

ik some people have difficulty reading on tumblr tho so if i get enough asks i will put this on ao3 if its easier

word count: 3.2k (this will fluctuate depending on my mood)

Format Clarification:

When the contestant name is in front of the text, that means it's a cutaway and not actually said in the villa!

anything in italics is to be read in Iain Stirling voice please i love him

-

Day 3:

It's day 3 and it's heating up in the villa! Will the current couples pass the test of temptation as two new bombshells enter for the ultimate challenge? Find out here on Love Island USA: WLW Sports Edition! 

When Paige first got the call that she was nominated for Love Island, she knew who put her name in the sea of women’s athletes picked for the show. With her social media agents wanting to get the “player” allegations away from her image to make herself more marketable, she was a shoo-in for the show. 

Paige was confident in her coupling. Ellie, the Olympic swimmer from Australia, was up her ally of girls: hot, brunette, and gay. They had been going strong for the first three days in the villa, with Ellie picking Paige on Day 1 coupling. In the mess of drama the other couples were whirlwind into, they had remained together as a voice of reason. 

“I’m just not really feeling her I don’t know,” Kate groans, slapping the ping pong ball back to Paige. 

“Bro it’s been three days and you’re already tired of your match? Couldn’t be me.” Paige responds, returning the ball. 

Kate and Paige being the only WNBA athletes in the villa naturally stuck together as close friends, being each other's confidants on Love Island. They had the common ground of basketball solidifying their sisterhood and frequently took each other's advice.

“It’s not that. I just feel like there’s no spark. Sarah is great and all, but I can’t imagine spending the rest of my villa time with her.”

“Why don’t you explore your options tonight if we recouple? That’ll start some crazy drama.” Paige laughs mischievously, wiggling her eyebrows at an unamused Kate Martin. 

“All the other couples are pretty locked in and I don’t wanna be a homewrecker… plus they’re probably bringing in new bombshells today if I got the formula right. Hopefully, they’re my type because I don’t think it’s working out for me and Sarah. ” 

“New bombshells? I mean none of them better be basketball players. That’s Ellie’s type to a T. It was hard enough fighting against you.” Paige jokes, slightly concerned at the idea of new people. It wasn’t like she and Ellie were completely locked in, but Paige knew she’d be at risk of getting kicked off the show if any of the new bombshells coupled up with Ellie.

“Ellie is not my type. She’s too nice. I need some passion in my girl." 

“I like nice. She’s sweet and brings me orange juice in the morning.” Paige says, dropping her paddle when Kate sends the ball flying past her head, "Drama stresses me out. That's why Ellie is perfect for me."

“Nah, I like a little fight. It’s hot when a girl is mad at you… you should know better than me ‘Miss Star Point Guard on the Golden State Valkyries’. Aren’t women always fighting over you?” 

“I already told you I’m not a player in the real world or the villa. Why does no one on the island believe me?” Paige exclaims, plopping down on the way-to-colorful couch in the Villa playroom. 

“I don’t know… maybe you’re insane eye contact with everyone you meet?” Kate says sarcastically, taking her seat next to Paige. 

“Blame my parents! They’re the ones who told me that eye contact is respectful." Paige argues before adding, "I can’t help I got beautiful eyes.” 

“Shut u-"

Kate is effectively cut off when KK Harvey starts screaming "I GOT A TEXT" throughout the entire villa, everyone making their way to the poolside where she was sitting.

"Islanders please gather at the fire pit for a surprise! #WatchOutCouples #Bout to drop a bomb!" KK reads loudly, the whole villa shouting in response.

"Welp, I guess this is your moment to find a new girl." Paige sighs, making her way over to the fire pit.

"Not yours?"

"Nope, I'm pretty happy with Ellie."

"You sure about that? Not even keeping an open eye?" Kate teased, ragging on Paige's loyalty.

"I'm definitely not re-coupling with some newcomer." Paige asserts firmly. 

"If you say so." 

-

As the Islanders all flock to the firepit, taking their seats next to their partners, they await for further instruction. 

“I GOT A TEXT!” Kate hoots out as the other islanders get excited, “It says ‘Get ready as your two new bombshells join you guys in the villa! #AreYouReady?’”

Paige looks over at Ellie, who’s already gripping tighter on Paige’s arm at the news of Bombshells. 

“I hope they’re not your type,” Ellie whispers shyly into Paige’s ear. It was a cute gesture, one that should’ve made Paige blush. Paige just gives her a reassuring squeeze on the arm, leaning in to whisper back. 

“I already got a beautiful girl, don’t worr-”

Paige is interrupted as shouting rings through the villa as two new girls make their way into the villa. 

“Bro, can you see her?” Kate says, pulling Paige up immediately as two figures appear in the distance. 

“Not with you jumping on my shoulders.” Paige retorts back, leaning up to get a better look, “They’re tall.”  

“Wait, I think I recognize one of them,” Kate says with her eyes squinted

Kate: You guys are ruthless in bringing my exact type. Fuck, I want to stay loyal to Sarah but I do still want to keep my options open, you know?

Paige has to brace herself for this entrance. She recognized the two bombshells immediately as they got closer. The WNBA world was small and both of these contestants were prominent figures in the league. Azzi Fudd and Nika Muhl, the star guards for the LA Sparks would be joining the girls on the island. 

“No way they brought in more girls from the league!” Kate whispers into Paige’s ear. 

“Did they run out of gays for other sports? Or is the league just super gay?” Paige responds in a nervous whisper. Ellie had literally told Paige on the first day that her type was basketball girls and it was one of the main reasons why Ellie had picked her. It was not to Paige’s advantage to have multiple girls chasing after her girl. 

“Wait, I know both of them. We worked out together at Kelsey Plum’s dawg class for a few days. She’s super hot not gonna lie.” Kate whispered lowly so Sarah wouldn’t hear. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve met them a few times. Did you know that they both were gonna come to UCONN but chose UCLA last minute?” Paige droned on, her eyes oddly trained on Azzi as they finally reached the fire pit. It suddenly dawned on Paige that she had never seen the younger girl in a bikini and it set an uncomfortable fire ablaze in her stomach. 

Azzi: Hi, my name is Azzi Fudd and I’m a 5’ 11” shooting guard for the Sparks. I wanted to come to Love Island to find my future wife and make a strong connection with someone. I have been in a lot of relationships and they don’t seem to go well for me, so I hope I find my match here!

Nika: I’m Nika Muhl and I’m a 6’ foo-

Azzi: 5’ 10” don’t lie Nika

Nika: Don’t cut me off! Anyway, I’m a point guard for the LA Sparks and I wanted to come to Love Island to finally find my love match and establish a strong connection. I’m super excited to meet the Islanders. 

Another text sound rings through the air, coming from Azzi’s hand. 

“Bombshell’s Azzi and Nika, Pick two people to go on dates with tomorrow before bed tonight. Have fun getting to know everyone tonight in the villa! #newcomers #shootyourshot!” Azzi read out, inciting excitement through the villa again. 

“Hey you’re Azzi and Nika, right? Guard’s on the Sparks?” Coco asks, making room for them around the fire pit to welcome them. 

“Yeah, we’re shocked they picked us to go together since we knew each other. You’re Coco Gauff. I’m a big fan.” Azzi gushes, hugging Coco. 

“Hey Kate,” Nika says, acknowledging the blonde in the crowd as she scans around, “How’s the island?” 

“Good. Surprised to see you guys here but I’m hyped. We need more basketball representation in here.” Kate jokes. 

“We get enough ‘basketball is the best sport’ debating from these two. Now we got more.” KK Harvey jokes, motioning to the two basketball blondes in the pit. 

“Basketball is amazing though, you gotta admit.” Azzi plays along, earning a few lighthearted groans from the rest of the villa. 

“Just promise you shut up Paige before she goes on a whole rant. Kate just eggs on that little pest.” Coco groans. 

“I’m never wrong Coco, don’t play with me. Tennis is fun but basketball is art.” Paige says, earning more groans from the group. “Do you guys know who you wanna pull for chats?” Ellie asks the two bombshells, jutting into the conversation. 

“Um, I have my eyes on a few people but I’m gonna see for the next few hours as I get to know more people on the island,” Nika responds. 

“We know you guys are in couples right now, but we just wanted to wait until we got to know more people’s vibes,” Azzi adds, looking around all the girls in the pit. A few couples had already gone off to different parts of the villa, but she was getting a good look at everyone left. There were a few people on her radar and a few people who weren’t. 

Azzi: Kate was making some pretty clear eye contact with me, but she’s on my “pulling for chats” roster.

The group spends the next few minutes getting to know each other and filling in the two on the island news. Paige tried to focus on Ellie squeezing her arm, but she was distracted by things she couldn’t comprehend. 

Things such as Azzi Fudd making flashing bouts of eye contact with her to no end. Paige was not one to falter at strong eye contact, but she couldn’t help but grow slightly nervous under the shooting guard's gaze. It wasn’t rare for Paige to catch the eye of someone. New people entering the villa the past few days had flocked to her, but she rejected them to no avail to remain loyal to Ellie. It was still fun flirting and making stable eye contact was one of her specialties. But Azzi Fudd seemed to be looking at her with a specific glint that Paige couldn’t pinpoint. 

Paige: Did you guys see the way she was looking at me? I can’t tell if she wants me in her bed or wants me dead.  

Annoyance? Lust? Hatred? C’mon Paige tell us what you see!

“So you guys want a little villa tour?” Kate asks suddenly while stepping slightly closer to Azzi, “It’s super nice.” 

The group makes their way around the villa, showing the two new islanders all the spots. Ellie and Paige stayed hand-in-hand as they walked, Ellie refusing to let go. Even when Paige got closer to Azzi coincidentally, the shooting guard would make it a point to take two steps away and it didn’t help that Ellie was pulling her in the other direction. They end up at the rooms as they finish off the night, the girls entering their assigned makeup rooms to get ready for bed. Azzi is put into Paige, Kate, Coco, and KK’s room, getting spilt up from Nika. 

“So Azzi, what do you think of the villa?” Coco asks while wiping her makeup off. 

“It’s nice, bigger than I expected. Soul ties are a lot more secretive than I thought.” Azzi answers, unpacking her bags. 

“Yeah, a lot of shit goes down there. If you go to soul ties at night we know you’re fucking or something.” KK laughs. 

“Do you know who you’re picking for your dates tomorrow? You get two right?” Paige asks, speaking up for the first time. 

“Yeah, two. I’m not sure who I’m picking yet. I think they’re asking me to pick in an hour so I have time to think in the shower.” 

“What’s your type?” Kate asks Azzi boldly, getting an approval look from Paige. 

“Uhh, I tend to focus a lot on personality. Just someone who can match my competitiveness and my energy. But if we’re talking looks, I tend to go for tall blondes.” Azzi says casually, immediately getting Kate to snap her eyes to Paige. 

Paige: Is Azzi flirting with me or Kate? If it’s me, I’m in trouble. Ellie is not going to be happy if I go on a date tomorrow. 

“Is there a separate shower room? I need to unpack my bottles.” Azzi says while standing up.

“Yeah, it’s down the hall to the left. That’s where our group showers.” Coco instructs, getting a nod of thank you before Azzi leaves. 

“Hold up, was she talking about me?” Kate polls the group the second Azzi safely leaves the room, “Or was she walking about the other two blondies?” 

“I think she was just stating her type buddy.” KK Harvey jokes, “Plus, she’s totally talking about me. She’s been giving me the eyes.”  

“Really?” Paige chimes in curiously, “Like slightly angry but confusingly hot?” 

“No, like she wanna look into my soul…What type of looks is she giving you?” KK questions. 

“Nothing… she wasn’t really looking at me, just wondering,” Paige adds quickly. She was probably just overthinking due to the reveal of her type. 

“Back off KK, you’re happy with Kylie. Sarah and I have been distant for days.” Kate playfully challenges. 

“Kylie’s great, but Azzi and Nika are hot, not going to lie. I kinda hope I get to go on the date with them. Don’t tell Kylie though, she might kill me.” 

“As long as you don’t tell Sarah. I wanna test my connection with the bombshells but I don’t want to blindside Sarah.” 

“You guys are acting like Azzi and Nika want you guys. She could be talking about girls in the other room.” Coco jokes, butting into the heated debate.

“Please, Coco. We get it. You and Paige are in happy little couples and don’t need to worry about recoupling. I would say Kylie would leave me the second another hockey girl comes in here.” KK says sarcastically before adding, “I’ve never gone for a basketball girl before.” 

“I have. And I know them better than you loser. Azzi said tall, that means basketball. She was clearly talking about me.” Kate argues back. 

“I’ll be right back,” Paige says suddenly, jumping from her makeup chair. 

“Where are you going?” Kate asks as Paige starts exiting the room. 

“Just going to chat with Azzi for a bit. Nothing serious. I’ll be back in 30 seconds.” Paige says quickly, ignoring any questioning she got from the group. 

Paige makes her way down the hall, knocking twice on the shower room door before it slowly squeaks open.

“It’s unlocked,” Azzi says simply, her composure even. 

“Oh. Some people are uncomfortable with people coming in during showers so I always knock. Wasn’t sure if you were showering.” 

“Nope, just unpacking,” Azzi says shortly, confusing Paige again, “Do you need to shower? I can leave.” 

“Oh, no. I actually wanted to talk to you real quick before you pick your dates for tomorrow.” Paige starts. 

“Sure, what did you want to talk about?” Azzi asks cautiously, continuing to organize her skincare on her shelf. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m in a pretty solid connection with Ellie and I don’t want you to waste your date on me because I’m mostly taken. You can still pick me, but I just want to be transparent from the beginning before we get to know each other.” Paige says while sitting up on the sink.

Azzi stood up from her packing, giving Paige a focused look of mild confusion. 

“What makes you think I’m picking you?” Azzi asks with an even tone, eyes unwavering from Paige’s. 

“Well, you said tall blondes are your type and that’s only me and Kate. So I assumed you’d use your two picks on us.” Paige says, slightly less confident.

Azzi steps closer to Paige, closing the gap between them. 

“Is it true that if you take off your top they can’t air it because it’s nudity?” Azzi whispers into Paige’s ear, pulling the blonde in. 

“Uh, yeah? They can’t air it. But they get kinda annoyed when we do it and talk about villa stuff.” Paige whispers shakily into Azzi’s ear. 

“Turn your head,” Azzi says as she takes two steps back, swiftly taking off her bikini top.

Paige had never swiveled so hard, almost falling off the sink counter. Paige turned her head halfway before she realized she could see Azzi in the mirror reflection, leading her to close her eyes as fast as possible.

“I know your reputation in the league, but I’m not trying to air out your business on TV, so I’m going to speak like this,” Azzi yells out before turning around, “You can turn around now, it’s just my back.” 

Paige opens her eyes to see Azzi’s long braids flowing down her bare back, the only article of clothing being her bottom bikini. Azzi turned her head to speak. 

“How are you going to judge me on my so-called reputation?” Paige questioned back, getting offended at the “Player” accusations she hated. 

“You ghosted one of my friends, so don’t act surprised I’m cautious of you. I came to the Villa to find love and take home the win.” 

“So did I. You haven’t seen me with Ellie. I have a lot of layers, you’d be surprised.” Paige says with a smirk, her voice growing bolder. 

“Layers? Yeah, ten layers of player. I know what you did to Alyssa.” 

“Alyssa? Who’s that?” Paige asks, racking her brain for possible Alyssa’s in her past.

“Jesus, you don’t even remember her. That’s crazy.” Azzi scoffs accusatorily, “Anyway, don’t worry. I won’t pick you for the date, I’m not going to intrude on you and Ellie. Seems like you guys are happy.” 

Paige watches as Azzi slips her bikini back on. Watching the muscles on her back contract as she pulls her top over her head. Her bare skin was addicting to look 

So addicting, Paige was caught red-handed admiring her as Azzi turned back around. 

“You sure you're happy with Ellie?” Azzi jokes dryly. 

“Very. She’s a great girl. Exactly my type.” Paige challenges back, leaning her body toward Azzi. 

“What is your type, Paige?” 

“Hot, Brunette, Pretty Eyes,” Paige says a little quieter as Azzi steps a little too close for comfort. 

“I see,” Azzi answers, nodding her head. 

“Don’t think I’m calling you my type. You just happen to fit it.” Paige adds weakly. 

“You saying I got pretty eyes? I know I'm the other two.” Azzi asks playfully, opening the door to the shower room. 

“Maybe. Let me look into them longer and I’ll decide.” Paige chirps back, a surge of confidence coursing through her. 

“In your dreams, Bueckers.” Azzi sings out with a laugh as she takes her exit, leaving a mildly dazed Paige on the sink. 

This was certainly going to be an interesting summer in the Villa for Paige. 

-

A/N: I apologize if this is shit, this is just funny for me.

[just1cefor4ll]

hi, I am anon from previous message ! sorry for you getting you confused 🫶 I meant the plot can be comfort or fluff for the danya from ziferblat

—reticence

(n.) being quiet and not sharing thoughts easily

Daniil Leshchynskyi x f!reader

summary. you’re parents got divorced a week before you were supposed to fly with Danya to Basel. How do you manage to carry such a heavy burden alone?

warning. family problems, not proof read

translations. Мила = sweetheart, Кохана = beloved, Люба = darling

It was unlike you to be so passive towards people, everyone knew that. They saw it in your eyes, red and tired—burdens blooming like flowers in a botanic garden beneath them— however not as much of a pretty sight as a garden would be— with your shoulders slouched under invisible, yet unbearable weight.

You got the usual ‘Are you okay?’ or a blunt ‘God, you look horrible,’ from people all around, yet no one really cared enough to ask on a deeper level, not even after your jaw tensed, or how you inhaled sharply whenever someone expressed their concern.

The thought of waking up each morning felt like a burden, each task you used to breeze through now felt like pushing a boulder uphill. Everything had dulled and now as life continued to move forward without waiting for you to catch up, you found yourself on a plane to Basel—headed to Eurovision, with Daniil by your side, his brother Valentyn next to him as they chatted with a few close friends or members of the team that were scattered nearby.

You were supposed to feel excited. Proud. Supportive. You were going to watch your boyfriend live out a dream that thousands would kill for—and instead, you were like this. Hollow. Numb.

You sank deeper into the airplane seat, picking at the skin around your nails, trying not to cry for the third time that day. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just be happy for him?

The truth was that you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything remotely positive.

Your parents were getting divorced, and your mother had accidentally let it slip before giving you the full details. The thought of your parents splitting after years of what looked like a happy marriage hit you like a brick to the face. It made you wonder—were you really that absent from their lives? Have you broken the family because you decided to leave?

You pitied your younger siblings who still lived at home. It was a situation that shook even you—an adult. How would they, as teenagers, handle it?

You let out a deep sigh, texting your sister while people were still boarding. You tried to reassure her that things would be fine, but even she didn’t want to believe you.

“How would you know? You’re never here.” she texted, her words stinging probably more than she intended, but with everything going on, your emotions felt like porcelain—fragile and easily shattered.

“Are you okay, Мила?” you heard Daniil ask from beside you, his sweet eyes looking at you with concern. They always made your heart melt, even now, when it felt broken into pieces. “Yeah, just don’t feel too good—probably plane sickness or something,” you shrugged, managing a soft smile. He didn’t question it, only nodded and pulled you gently into his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Your arrival in Basel was quick. The usual emotions one would feel after arriving in a new country like wonder, excitement, curiosity were nowhere to be found. All you felt was disinterest.

Danya had excitedly listed countless places to explore— a cozy café he spotted near the hotel, a flea market rich with wild clothes and eccentric accessories. But nothing sparked a single flicker of enthusiasm.

“Not today,” you said. “I’m tired. Maybe next time?” Your lukewarm responses dimmed his excitement, his expression switching between a sense of understanding and disappointment.

“Go on without me,” you insisted. “I’ll sleep the sickness off and hopefully we can be more productive tomorrow.” You kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Are you sure? I can stay with you,” he offered, clearly hesitant to leave. You shook your head, trying to smile. “No, no. Go have fun so you can tell me all about it later.” He let out a soft, defeated sigh, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Alright. But if you need me, just text, okay?”

You watched him walk off with Valentyn and a few of their friends, disappearing into the vibrant city you felt too heavy to enjoy.

Your sister had gone quiet again, leaving your messages on read. So, you did what you told Danya you would; you slept. Or at least, tried to. Anything to escape your thoughts for a few hours and lose yourself in a dream where everything was still okay.

Rehearsals came soon enough as the semi-finals drew closer. The disappearing days making everyone nervous, people rushing around to perfect every last detail of their performance.

You sat off to the side—either texting your siblings or observing. Your eyes often found Danya, admiring how he sang each note so effortlessly, and how Valya played the guitar like it was a talent everyone was born with.

Then, as they finally decided to take a break, you watched the twin brothers interact. The way Daniil and Valentyn shared inside jokes, bickering playfully, laughing like life was as its peak..— it made something twist in your chest. Jealousy started to stretch over your entire being as you saw the bond between them you never really had with your own siblings. You didn’t feel this way out of resentment towards them, but because it reminded you of what felt so out of reach in your own life right now.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you stood abruptly. “I’m gonna go get some air,” you mumbled, slipping out of the rehearsal room and into the hallway, walking until you found a stairwell— far enough from everyone.

You sank to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest, arms wrapping around them. Your breathing turned shaky and uneven, tears rolling down your cheeks, one after another, soaking your sleeves as you tried to bury your face in your arms. You didn’t make a sound, but the pressure in your chest felt unbearable.

Suddenly, it was as if an angel had blessed you.

Warm arms wrapped around you from behind, a familiar voice whispering into your ear, his breath brushing your skin. “I’m here, [Name]. Let it out, Люба.” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his hands rubbing your arms as if trying to warm you up in a calming manner.

You turned toward him instinctively as he pulled your frame against him without hesitation, wrapping his arms around you tightly with one of his hands finding your back and began to scratch gently, like he always did when you were overwhelmed.

“I just—” your voice cracked, “I’m sorry. I just— I didn’t mean to—” “Shh, don’t apologize, my love,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your cheek. “You’re okay. You don’t have to explain everything right now.”

But that’s what made it harder. You didn’t know how to explain it.

You never had. You’d always been quiet. Not shy — but the words always got stuck in your throat. Sometimes even you weren’t sure what you were feeling until it all came rushing out in one big breakdown. It was a habit you hated; burying things too deep and waiting until it was too late, until your hands shook and your throat locked up and everything spilled out in tears instead of words.

“I.. I don’t know how to say it,” you mumbled, voice muffled against his shoulder. “It’s dumb. I sound dumb.” He pulled you closer. “It’s not dumb.”

You hesitated again, trying to muster up the words that felt so embarrassing to be said out loud. But then, you cracked.

“My parents. They’re getting divorced.”

Danya stayed quiet, but you felt his arms tighten slightly. He didn’t interrupt, letting you take your time since he knew better than anyone that you had trouble speaking your mind.

You kept going, not even sure where all these thoughts suddenly came from but they needed to be let out. “And my sister— she’s mad at me. She says I’m never around. I think she thinks I’m selfish. Maybe she’s right. I mean I visit them every few weeks, sometimes months and never stay long, maybe that’s what broke them— that their oldest has left and I was the one thing keeping them together most of my childhood.”

“What’s worse is.. I feel stupid for crying about it,” you confessed, your voice barely audible. “They’re adults. I am too. They’re allowed to make their own decisions. I should be okay with that. But I’m not. I hate that I’m not. And it just makes me feel weak. Immature.”

Daniil cupped your face in both hands, gently wiping your tears with his thumbs. His expression was so soft it nearly melted you.

“You’re not stupid Кохана,” he said, firmly but gently. “You’re not weak. You’re not too much, and you’re definitely not not enough.” You started to shake your head but he leaned in, touching his forehead to yours. “You’re hurting. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. This is your family, the people you grew up with, the people who were supposed to hold you up. But when your bridge falls apart you can’t be expected to swim in the river under alone. It hurts. That’s normal.”

He brushed your hair from your face behind your ears, tracing small circles on your cheeks with his thumb.

“And you have every right to be upset about it,” he added, softer now. “No matter what age you’d be. Even if it feels like you shouldn’t.” He pulled you back into his chest, wrapping himself around you again like he could shield you from the world. “I’m so proud of you for telling me.” He said, kissing your forehead. “I’ll cancel rehearsals for today, you need some peace and quiet, not bright lights and twenty failed attempts at hitting high notes.” Daniil tried to joke, which made you smile a bit, nodding as he went back into the room.

He spent the rest of the day with you, talking about the first day he promised you about, trying to distract you from your aching heart and even though you didn’t feel even near to perfectly fine, it helped. Just a little. The way he stayed close, the way he listened, the way he made you laugh without trying too hard; it all made the weight a bit easier to carry.

You weren’t okay yet, but you didn’t feel so alone anymore.

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[mocchiixxx]

The Art of Letting Go Seventeen ANGST Series # | 4: Even the Stars Couldn't Wait

Genre: Angst, Long-distance Love, Secret Relationship, Painful Goodbyes

🐈 Moon Junhui | Jun x Reader

Summary: Moon Junhui was made of stardust, ethereal, soft-spoken, and kind. Your love story was written between plane tickets, late-night calls, and stolen weekends in unfamiliar cities. But the longer you waited, the more you realized that stars like him were meant to be seen from afar, not held. You were tired of feeling like a secret chapter in a life too big to include you. And when love becomes a waiting game you always lose… sometimes the only thing left to do is let go.

'Let’s look at the stars together tonight,' Jun had texted.

You had smiled at first, stepping onto your apartment balcony, staring at the sky. He was miles away, in another country, filming another show, dancing under another spotlight. But somehow, both of you looking at the same sky made it feel a little less lonely.

Until it didn’t.

Because that’s all your relationship had become, virtual glances, empty promises of 'soon', and countdowns to moments that never lasted long enough.

He always said he’d make it up to you. But time doesn’t refund what it takes.

You sighed as you clutched the small charm he gave you last time he visited, a star, shaped keychain from a random night market in Japan.

The keychain was still here.

He wasn’t.

Your phone buzzed. Junhui calling.

You answered quietly.

“I miss you,” he said before you could speak.

“I know,” you whispered. “But missing me doesn’t bring you home.”

There was silence on the other end. Not defensive. Just defeated.

“I’m trying so hard,” he said softly. “You know I would be there if I could.”

“I know. That’s the problem,” you said. “I know you love me, Jun. But love isn’t enough when I spend every special moment alone.”

The silence stretched between you, longer than usual. The sound of him breathing through the line was the only proof he was real.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said.

You closed your eyes. “You already are.”

“No, please— don’t do this.”

“I’ve waited. And waited. And kept quiet. But every time I need you, I’m told to understand. And I did. But now I need to understand when to stop.”

Jun didn’t speak. You imagined him, sitting in some quiet hotel room, still in stage makeup, still trying to hold onto a love that reality couldn’t protect.

“I want someone who’s here,” you continued, voice shaking. “Not someone I can only watch from a screen.”

His voice broke when he finally replied, “You were the only thing that ever felt real in this world.”

You wiped your tears. “Then let this be real too. Let this be the goodbye we’ve both been delaying.”

He didn’t beg. Jun was too gentle for that. He just whispered your name like a prayer he knew wouldn’t be answered anymore.

And when you ended the call, the sky above remained the same, full of stars he was chasing.

But you no longer waited beneath them.

A/N: I have a full schedule this week at school, I'll try to write in between free time though. Til then, enjoy! @vixensss @babycaratdeul