#longshot x reader

YOUNGER BROTHER!LOUIS TEXTS

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pairing . . . louis and older sister!reader ft. ohyul

ᯓᡣ𐭩 contents . . . fluff , siblings , texts between you and louis .

ᯓᡣ𐭩 taglist . . . @sturniolos4life16 , @lavendersloane , @0ffl1n3-cyb3rpunk , @bammbi-jeon127 , @lovelynyah , @yatta-exe , @eomsean (taglist still open!)

+ 5 added images & bonus w/ ohyul

Stay with me

Pairing - Ohyul x reader

Requested

Summary - Ohyul is frustrated because he couldn’t get his lines right, you’re the only one who can calm him down.

Genre - comfort/fluff

MASTERLIST

Requests are open!!

Your phone lights up while you’re halfway through scrolling, and you almost ignore it until you see Woojin’s name pop up.

You there?

You sit up immediately.

Yeah. Why?

The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Comes back.

Can you come to the dorm?

Your stomach drops a little. That tone is never casual.

What happened?

Another bubble. This one takes longer.

He’s been in his room all day. Won’t come out. He messed up his lines during recording and he’s taking it bad.

A second message comes right after.

We tried talking to him. It’s not working.

And then a third.

Please.

You don’t even reply. You’re already grabbing your hoodie.

The walk feels longer than usual, like your brain won’t stop running ahead of you. Recording days are always stressful, but Ohyul is hard on himself in a way most people don’t see. He jokes. He smiles. He brushes things off. But when something sticks, it sticks deep.

By the time you reach the dorm, Louis opens the door almost immediately, like they were waiting.

“Thank God,” he mutters under his breath, stepping aside.

The living room is unusually quiet. Ryul is sitting on the floor, phone in his hands but not really looking at it. Woojin is pacing near the kitchen.

“He hasn’t eaten,” Woojin says the second you step in. “We left food outside his door. It’s still there.”

“Did he say anything?” you ask softly.

“Just that he’s tired,” Ryul answers. “But he sounds… off.”

You nod slowly.

“I’ll try,” you say.

They all look at you like you’re their last option.

The hallway feels heavier than the rest of the dorm. His door is closed. No music playing. No movement.

You knock gently.

Silence.

You press your hand flat against the door. “Ohyul,” you call quietly. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause. Long enough that you consider knocking again.

Then, finally, a soft, “Come in.”

You open the door slowly.

His room is dim, curtains mostly drawn. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it personally offended him. He looks up when you step inside, and for a second something flickers in his expression. Relief. Then it’s gone.

“They didn’t have to call you,” he says quietly.

You close the door behind you. “I wanted to come.”

He doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t look convinced either.

You walk over and sit beside him. Not too close at first. Just enough that your shoulders almost touch.

“They told me about recording,” you say gently.

His jaw tightens.

“I kept messing it up,” he mutters. “It was such a simple part. Everyone else got theirs. I just kept missing it.”

“That happens.”

“Not like that.” His voice sharpens slightly, frustration slipping through. “I could hear it every time. It sounded off. I asked to redo it like five times.”

You stay quiet, letting him talk.

“They eventually moved on,” he continues. “Which is worse. Because now I know they just settled.”

You turn toward him fully. “Did they say that?”

“No.”

“Did they look annoyed?”

He hesitates. “…No.”

“Then that’s your brain talking.”

He lets out a frustrated breath and runs a hand through his hair. “I hate feeling like I slowed everything down. Like I’m the weak link.”

That word makes your chest ache.

You close the space between you without thinking and slide your arms around him. He stiffens for half a second, like he wasn’t expecting it, then melts into you.

Actually melts.

His arms wrap around your waist tightly, and he presses his face into your shoulder like he’s been holding that in all day. His grip tightens like he needs to anchor himself.

“I practiced so much,” he whispers against your hoodie. “I don’t get why I couldn’t just get it right.”

You rest your cheek against the top of his head and rub your hand slowly up and down his back. “Because you’re human.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse,” you murmur. “It’s reality.”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t pull away either.

You shift slightly, guiding him back onto the bed so he’s lying down. You lay beside him, facing him, one arm draped over his chest. He immediately pulls you closer until your legs tangle and your forehead rests against his.

His breathing is uneven at first. Frustrated. Tight.

“You’re allowed to have a bad day,” you tell him quietly. “It doesn’t erase every good one.”

He shakes his head slightly. “I’m supposed to be steady. I’m supposed to help the mood, not drag it down.”

“You didn’t drag anything down,” you say firmly. “You had trouble with a line. That’s it. No one is rewriting history because of that.”

A small, reluctant huff of air leaves him.

You brush your thumb gently across his cheek. “You think the rest of them never struggle? You think they don’t overthink? You’re not the only one who cares.”

He stares at you, eyes soft but still heavy.

“I just don’t want to disappoint anyone,” he admits.

“You didn’t,” you say immediately.

“But what if I did?”

“Then they would’ve said something. They didn’t. Because you didn’t.”

Silence settles again, but this time it’s calmer.

He leans in slightly until his forehead presses against yours. “You always make it sound simple.”

“Because it is simple,” you reply softly. “Your brain just makes it complicated.”

His arms tighten around you again, and this time he fully buries his face in your neck. Not dramatic. Not crying. Just holding on.

You let him.

Your fingers trace slow patterns along his spine. You feel his breathing gradually even out. The tension in his shoulders starts to loosen.

“You don’t have to be the strong one every second,” you murmur. “You can let them see you disappointed. They care about you. Not just the version of you that smiles all the time.”

He’s quiet for a long moment.

“I didn’t want them to see me like this,” he says finally.

“Like what?”

“Not confident.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. “You know what confidence actually is?”

He raises an eyebrow slightly.

“Trying again tomorrow.”

That makes him pause.

“You’re going back in there,” you continue. “You’re going to redo it. And you’re going to get it right. Not because you’re perfect. But because you don’t quit.”

His eyes search yours, and this time there’s less doubt in them.

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “And even if it takes a few more tries, that doesn’t make you less talented. It makes you someone who cares enough to fix it.”

He swallows.

Before he can answer, you hear muffled whispering outside the door.

You both freeze.

“Do you think they can hear us?” someone whispers.

“That was definitely cuddling silence,” another voice says.

You blink.

Ohyul’s eyes widen slightly.

“That’s Louis,” you whisper.

“And that’s Woojin,” he mutters.

Right on cue, there’s a very obvious shuffle outside the door, followed by Ryul whispering, “Should we knock or is this like a moment?”

Ohyul lets out the tiniest, embarrassed groan and buries his face in your shoulder again. “I’m going to lose it.”

You bite back a laugh. “They’re worried.”

“I know,” he sighs.

There’s another exaggerated whisper outside. “If you’re alive in there, blink twice.”

You sit up slightly and call out, “He’s alive.”

Immediate silence.

Then Louis’ voice, dramatically loud, “Oh good, because we were about to break in.”

Ohyul covers his face with one hand, but you can feel him smiling against you now. The heaviness in the room has shifted.

“You guys are so annoying,” he calls back.

“Eat your food!” Woojin yells.

There’s the sound of them scattering down the hallway.

The room goes quiet again, but this time it’s lighter.

Ohyul looks at you, something softer in his expression now. “They really told you to come.”

“Yeah,” you admit.

He exhales slowly. “I’m kind of glad they did.”

You smile gently. “Me too.”

He pulls you back down into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Stay a little longer?”

“Obviously.”

His grip is less desperate now. More steady. More calm.

Tomorrow he’ll go back to the studio. He might still be nervous. He might still overthink the first take.

But tonight, he’s wrapped around you, breathing evenly, and the disappointment doesn’t feel like it’s swallowing him anymore.

A volatile late-night argument between two stubborn lovers abruptly shifts into raw, consuming passion, blurring the line between anger and possession.

pairing: kim ryul x fem/reader (y/n)

genre: angst with a happy ending, possessive male lead, established relationship

warnings: explicit sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, choking (light), restraint (hands bound), degradation (light), dirty talk, aftercare

word count: ~2k

note: thank you so much for reading! and i’m so sorry for disappearing :(

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The silence hanging between Y/N and Ryul felt heavier than any argument they’d ever had. The tension in the room was suffocating. Both of them stood there, furious and wounded, far too stubborn to admit just how deeply the fight was tearing at them. Ryul’s usual cool, composed composure had shattered, replaced by a raw, volatile frustration he was desperately trying to keep under control.

"You never listen, Ryul!" Y/N snapped, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes with a defiant glare. "You always act like nothing ever gets to you like you can just turn around, walk away, and everything will magically be fine!"

Ryul’s jaw tightened, his calm expression finally snapping. "You think I don't care?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low. "You think I'm just playing around here?"

"Because you never explain anything!" Y/N threw back at him, chin tilted up bratty and challenging. "You just shut me out and expect me to stand here and accept it!"

"Because every single time I try, you're already flying off the handle!" Ryul barked back, the anger finally cracking through his throat. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"Oh, fuck you, Ryul," she sneered, scoffing as she turned her shoulder to him.

The sharp words hovered in the air like a dare. But instead of the cold, dismissive silence that usually followed, the atmosphere in the room shifted, crackling with a sudden, dangerous electricity. The space between them felt both impossibly vast and suffocatingly small.

Ryul’s eyes, dark and stormy, didn't leave hers for a single second. The anger was still radiating off his broad shoulders, but it began to warp, melting into something far more volatile.

He took a single, deliberate step forward. His gaze dropped down to her lips before dragging back up to meet her defiant eyes, the frustration in his expression now heavy with a heat that was impossible to mistake.

"Is that an invitation?" Ryul asked.

He closed the remaining distance between them in two long strides, stopping mere inches from her. His entire body was a rigid line of forced restraint, though his breathing had grown uneven. The clean, sharp scent of his cologne cut through the heavy air. He didn't touch her yet, standing over her like a question poised on a knife’s edge.

"Because if it is..." Ryul murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rough rasp, "...you should know by now I don't do anything by halves."

Before Y/N could toss back another bratty retort, the last thread of his control snapped.

Ryul moved with predator-like speed. One of his large hands shot up to cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling firmly into her hair not to hurt her, but to claim her, anchoring her right where he wanted her. He didn't go for her mouth. Instead, his head dipped, his hot lips pressing fiercely against the curve of her neck, right over the frantic pulse thumping under her jaw.

His mouth was searing and urgent against her skin. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a brand, a punishment, and a declaration all at once. His other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, hauling her body flush against his until there wasn't a sliver of air left between them.

"See?" Ryul growled against her flesh, peppering desperate, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. "This is what you do. You make me like this."

His breathing was ragged, his heavy chest heaving against hers. Every press of his lips was fueled by the unresolved argument, transformed now into a consuming fire. He tasted the faint salt on her skin and felt the sudden shudder running through her, which only drove him deeper. His teeth grazed the sensitive cord of her neck not quite biting, but balancing perfectly between a threat and a promise.

He pulled back just enough to look down at her, his eyes blazing and his lips damp. His voice was wrecked, stripped completely raw.

"I don't kiss your neck when I'm angry," Ryul told her, his dark gaze locked on hers. "I take it. Because it's mine." He leaned back in, his hot breath fanning over her damp skin. "And you're furious with me. So go on—tell me to stop."

His challenge hung in the dense air like a line drawn in fire. The rumpled bed waited just behind her, but Ryul didn't wait for her to speak. He took the defiance in her hands as the only answer he needed. Her fingers had already hitched into the hem of his black t-shirt, and his own hands immediately moved to the edge of her top.

His movements were swift and purposeful. Gathering the soft cotton of her top in his fists, his knuckles brushed against the warm skin of her waist. A low, rough sound escaped his chest when her nails scraped over the hard plane of his stomach.

"There you go..." Ryul breathed against her mouth, his lips hovering a hair's breadth from hers. "Show me how mad you are."

With a single tug, he pulled her top up and over her head, discarding it to the floor without a second glance. The cool bedroom air hit her bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his eyes sweeping over her. Y/N yanked his shirt up in return, and Ryul broke their near-kiss long enough to raise his arms, letting her strip it off him until it joined hers on the floor.

Now bare from the waist up, the defined lines of his torso were on full display, his muscles tense and shifting with every heavy breath. He stared down at her with hooded, dark eyes, drinking in the sight. The anger was still there, but it had been forged into something entirely focused on her. He brought his hands up to cradle her face, his calloused thumbs stroking over her cheekbones.

"See?" Ryul whispered, his voice shattered. "No walls. No act. Just this. Just you wrecking me."

He dipped his head, finally closing the torturous gap to capture her mouth with his own.

This kiss wasn't like the ones on her neck. It was deeper, slower, a total conquest. It was all heat, tongue, and the lingering, bitter taste of their argument, now sweetening into something desperate. One of his hands slid down the curve of her spine, pulling her even tighter against him.

His mouth left hers with a sharp intake of air, trailing a hot, wet path down her throat and over the swell of her breast. He didn't tease; his target was deliberate. His lips closed firmly over one taut peak, his tongue laving over it before he pulled back just enough to speak, his searing breath making her skin shiver.

"These get so hard for me when you're pissed off," Ryul rasped out against her flesh, a dark smirk in his tone. "You think I don't notice?" He flicked his tongue over the tip in a sharp, deliberate stroke. "You clench that pretty jaw of yours, and these tighten right up, begging for it."

His hand came up to palm her other breast, his thumb rubbing rough, slow circles around her nipple. His gaze lifted, locking onto hers with unmistakable intent.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Ryul challenged, his teeth lightly grazing her sensitive skin. "Tell me you weren't thinking about my mouth right here while you were screaming at me."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, rolling her eyes even as a shudder ran through her frame. "You are literally impossible, Ryul."

A soft laugh escaped him, but the sharp edge of the argument had officially dissolved into sheer heat. The anger was gone, leaving them raw and exposed. Ryul released her chest, resting his forehead against her sternum for a brief moment as his breath hitched.

"Impossible?" Ryul echoed, his voice thick as he nudged his nose against her skin. "Yeah. For you. Only for you."

His hands slid down her sides, mapping the curve of her waist and the dip of her hips. His touch was no longer punishing, but fiercely possessive. He straightened up, his hands gripping her hips firmly as his eyes searched her face, catching every flicker of emotion she tried and failed to hide.

He leaned in for another kiss, but this time it was slow and deep, a silent apology wrapped in a demand. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her completely. When he finally broke away, both of them were breathing heavily.

Taking her lack of resistance as an invitation, Ryul’s hands dropped to the waistband of her jeans. His fingers worked the button and zipper with practiced efficiency. Without a word, he peeled the denim down her legs, kneeling before her to strip them off. He then shoved his own dark sweatpants down, kicking them aside effortlessly.

The remaining barriers of fabric were gone in seconds. His boxers were tossed to the floor, and with a single hooked finger, he snapped the thin lace of her thong, sliding it down her legs. The atmosphere in the room was thick with heat and tension.

Ryul didn't ask. His hands gripped her hips, turning her around with firm, guiding pressure.

"On your knees," Ryul commanded softly, all playfulness gone from his voice. "Now."

Y/N huffed out a breath, but she obeyed, sinking down onto the mattress. The cool sheets brushed against her skin, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating off him. Ryul moved up behind her, his hands roaming the bare curves of her back and down to her hips. His touch was deliberate, mapping her body as if committing it to memory.

Leaning over her, he pressed his chest against her back, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as his hot breath fanned over her skin.

"Look at you," Ryul whispered roughly into her ear. "All that attitude... and here you are. For me."

He kept one hand anchored firmly on her hip while his other arm slid around her front, his fingers splaying low across her stomach to pull her back tight against him. He was hard and unyielding against her, rocking his hips against her slowly in a torturous friction that drew a soft gasp from her lips.

The blunt tip of his shaft nudged against her slick heat. He rocked forward, teasing her sensitive center without fully entering, testing her patience. A low groan vibrated in his chest, echoing against her spine.

"So fucking wet for this," Ryul rasped against her ear, every word a slow stroke. "For me." He pushed forward just an inch, testing her before drawing back. "Is this what you wanted all along? To pick a fight until I put you on your knees and take you apart?"

His hand slid lower, his fingers tangling through her damp skin until he found her sensitive center, rubbing a firm, deliberate circle that made Y/N arch her back into his chest.

"That's it," Ryul chuckled, a rough, breathless sound. "Tell me." He pressed down harder, his grip on her hip tightening like a vise. "Use your words, brat. Or just shake for me. It's the same thing."

Before she could spit back an answer, he withdrew his hand, leaving her breathless and aching. Ryul aligned himself properly behind her, and with one swift, smooth push of his hips, he buried himself all the way inside her.

The sudden fullness tore a sharp cry from Y/N's throat. Ryul held himself there, deep and solid, both of them trembling at the sudden, overwhelming connection.

"Fuck," Ryul hissed through his teeth, dropping his forehead between her shoulder blades. "You're like a vise... clenching around me like you're still trying to fight."

He didn't give her time to adjust. Pulling back almost all the way, he slammed home again, establishing a punishing, relentless rhythm. Every deep thrust hit home, his pelvis smacking against the back of her thighs. His sweaty chest was a solid wall against her back, one arm banded tightly across her collarbone to keep her upright while his other hand kept her hip pinned.

"This is what you do to me," Ryul rasped in her ear, his words punctuated by the heavy snap of his hips. "All that sharp talk... that fire in your eyes... it just makes me want to fuck it right out of you. Claim it. Make it mine."

The room filled with the sound of skin against skin, their ragged breathing, and the rhythmic creak of the bed. He dominated her senses—his scent, his heat, his weight pinning her down. He nipped possessively at her shoulder.

"Say it," Ryul demanded. "Say you're mine. Right now."

Before Y/N could answer, his hand shifted from her collarbone up to the delicate column of her throat. His palm pressed firmly against her skin—not cutting off her air completely, but applying a deliberate, undeniable pressure that held her pulse captive under his thumb.

"Feel that?" Ryul murmured darkly against her ear, his hips never missing a beat. "That's mine. Your heartbeat. Your breath. It's all mine right now."

His grip tightened just a fraction, taking total control over every breath she drew. He held her locked between his hand on her throat and his grip on her hip, driving into her with relentless force.

"That's it," Ryul coaxed, his hips snapping forward harder, forcing a choked sound from her throat. "Let me hear it. Let me feel you give up."

He maintained the pressure, controlling her completely. His forehead rested between her shoulder blades again as his thrusts grew heavier and faster.

"Ugh, fuck..." Y/N gasped out, her demeanor cracking as the pleasure overwhelmed her. "I'm going to..."

Reaching back, Y/N tried to grab his hips to slow his punishing pace, but Ryul was far too quick. In one fluid motion, he caught her wrist, pinning it behind her back. When she tried to resist with her other hand, he snagged that one too, locking both of her wrists together in a single, unbreakable grip at the small of her back. The position forced her chest to arch forward, opening her up and deepening his entry even further.

"Trying to run the show now?" Ryul asked, letting out a low, dark laugh against her shoulder. His grip on her wrists tightened. "Not a chance."

Holding her hands secured behind her with one fist, he used his free hand to clamp back onto her hip, leveraging his strength to drive into her with ruthless precision. Every thrust shook her frame, making her feel completely exposed and at his mercy.

"This is my show," Ryul whispered, his lips brushing her temple as his hips snapped forward hard. "You just feel it. You take it. And you come for me."

The restraint amplified every sensation. With her hands bound, Y/N couldn't brace herself. Ryul controlled the pace, the depth, and every movement. His thrusts were heavy and relentless, echoing in the quiet room.

In the chaotic heat of his rhythm, Y/N tried to shift her weight to cope with the intensity, but the movement threw off her balance. With her hands locked behind her back, the next hard drive of his hips sent her tumbling forward, her face burying directly into the mattress.

Ryul grunted, his grip on her wrists tightening instinctively to keep her safe as she fell, his body flattening over hers without breaking the connection for a single second.

"Whoa," Ryul muttered.

She was flat on her stomach now, her face pressed into the bedding, though her hips remained arched high under his weight. The position left her even more exposed. Ryul hovered over her, his chest heavy against her spine, his knees bracketing her legs, and her wrists still pinned firmly in his hand.

He didn't stop for a breath. Planted firmly over her, he drove back into her with a renewed, possessive rhythm.

"Fuck... even better," Ryul growled into the nape of her neck, his hips snapping forward in deep, punishing strokes. "Can't go anywhere now. Can't do anything but take it."

The new angle was deeper and far more intense. Every drive of his hips pushed her slightly into the mattress, muffling her breathless gasps. Ryul used his weight to keep her pinned, the sound of their bodies joining growing wetter and louder over the creak of the springs.

He lowered his mouth to her shoulder, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. "All mine," Ryul reminded her, punctuating every word with a hard, grinding thrust. "Every. Single. Inch."

Releasing her wrists at last, Ryul snaked his arms under her shoulders, locking his hands over her collarbone to pull her upper body back against his chest. The position arched her spine dramatically, giving him complete control to piston into her with even greater force.

"Come on," Ryul rasped into her ear, his breath ragged. "Let go. I can feel you tightening up... right on the edge. Fall for me."

A sharp, breathless scream tore from Y/N's throat, completely shattered as a wave of intense pleasure crashed over her. Her entire body went rigid, her muscles convulsing tightly around him as the climax hit her, wave after punishing wave.

"That's it... fuck, just like that," Ryul groaned, a deep, guttural sound of triumph. His own rhythm stuttered as her walls clamped down on him, his hard-fought control finally shattering.

He held her tightly against his chest while she shook through the peak. As her desperate cries faded into soft whimpers against the bed, Ryul’s own movements turned wild and unrefined, chasing his own release.

"Not done..." Ryul gritted out through his teeth, driving into her with frantic force. "Gonna fill you up... mark you..."

With one final, shuddering drive, Ryul buried himself as deep as he could go, his heavy body bowing over hers as he came. He held himself completely still, every muscle in his back locked rigid as pulse after pulse spilled deep inside her. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged, heavy breathing.

Slowly, the tension drained from his broad frame. Ryul loosened his tight hold on her shoulders, letting her sink softly back down onto the mattress. He rested his forehead against her shoulder blades, pressing his hot lips to her damp skin in a silent caress.

He stayed atop her for several minutes, his heavy weight a comforting anchor as their breathing gradually slowed.

"Fuck," Ryul exhaled softly, the warm air ghosting across her spine.

Finally, he shifted, rolling his weight off her to lie at her side on the rumpled sheets. He stayed close, wrapping one arm possessively around her waist and resting his hand flat over her stomach.

"You okay?" Ryul asked softly, his voice wrecked as he nudged his nose against the back of her shoulder.

His fingers drifted lazily across her skin, tracing soothing patterns over her ribs. All the earlier aggression had completely burned away, replaced by a deep, quiet tenderness. He pressed a gentle kiss to her spine.

"I got... a little carried away," Ryul admitted, his tone sheepish and stripped of all command.

Y/N let out a soft, tired sigh, her earlier bratty energy completely spent. "Mhm... I'm fine."

Ryul relaxed at her words, his shoulders dropping. His hand settled warm against her side, anchoring her to him.

"Good," Ryul murmured, burying his face into the nape of her neck, his voice muffled by her hair. "Wouldn't know what to do with myself if you weren't."

IN SUMMARY : Your childhood bestfriend doesn't want you over at his house (cause he has friends over and your downbad asf for one of them...). You don't listen :D Seonghyeon x Reader. Plationic!Louis x Reader

Pause ⏸ : I don't think I could ever explain how maternal I feel towards this kid. One of my younger brothers is like a year younger than him but they act similar so it's literally like seeing my baby brother 😭😭

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Warnings: Fluff • Ohyul x female!reader! • Embarrassment • Idol/Trainee AU • Established relationship • Teasing • Domestic chaos • Slight Cringe • Not Proofread!!!

Word Count: ~1.8k words

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Moving day with Longshot involved significantly less moving and significantly more chaos than you expected.

You should’ve known better the moment Woojin showed up carrying absolutely nothing except iced coffee for himself.

Now Louis was sitting inside one of the empty cardboard boxes scrolling through his phone like he paid rent there, Ryul was “organizing” snacks by eating them, and Ohyul was currently fighting for his life trying to carry a shelf through the doorway.

“Turn it sideways,” you called out from the kitchen.

“I am turning it sideways,” Ohyul argued back immediately.

“It’s upside down,” Ryul said without even looking up.

Ohyul stopped moving.

“…Oh.”

Louis burst out laughing from inside the box.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

This apartment wasn’t getting unpacked until next year at this rate.

“Okay,” you sighed, grabbing your keys from the counter. “I’m going back to the old place to grab the last boxes.”

Ohyul looked up instantly. “Want me to come?”

“No. Suffer with them.”

Woojin pointed at you dramatically. “She abandoned you, bro.”

“You haven’t touched a single box,” Ohyul shot back.

“I’m supervising.”

“You’re eating chips.”

“Exactly.”

Your old room felt strange now.

Empty.

Quiet.

The posters were gone. The shelves looked too clean. Even the mirror where you used to practice choreography during trainee days felt unfamiliar without sticky notes and schedules taped around the edges.

You crouched beside your old desk, pulling open the bottom drawer to check for anything left behind.

Old papers.

Practice evaluations.

Expired lip balm.

Then your fingers brushed against a black notebook buried beneath a pile of trainee schedules.

Your stomach dropped instantly.

“No way…”

You slowly pulled it out.

The tiny stickers decorating the corners made recognition hit immediately.

Your trainee journal.

More specifically—

your Ohyul crush journal.

“Oh my god.”

You opened one page cautiously.

Ohyul smiled at me during practice today and I forgot the entire choreography for eight seconds.

You flipped another page.

Why does he smell so good all the time????

Your soul nearly left your body.

“Nope.”

The journal snapped shut immediately.

This thing needed to disappear forever.

Preferably into a fire.

“Whatcha got there?”

You physically jumped.

Woojin stood in the doorway carrying a box under one arm, eyes narrowing the second he noticed the notebook clutched against your chest.

“Nothing.”

“That sounded suspicious.”

“It’s private.”

“That sounded more suspicious.”

Before you could react, Woojin lunged forward and snatched the journal right out of your hands.

“WOOJIN.”

“Oh this is definitely something embarrassing.”

“Give it back right now.”

He dodged you easily, already flipping through pages while you tried grabbing it from him.

Then he suddenly froze.

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Ohhhhh.”

Your stomach dropped.

“No.”

“Oh this is BAD.”

“WOOJIN.”

Unfortunately, Louis walked in at the exact worst moment possible.

“What happened?”

Woojin looked up with pure evil in his eyes.

Then he read aloud dramatically:

“Ohyul fixed my mic pack today and accidentally touched my hand. I think I died.”

Silence.

Then Louis folded in half laughing.

“NO WAY.”

You covered your face instantly.

“Please kill me.”

“Oh she was DOWN HORRENDOUS,” Woojin wheezed.

“STOP READING.”

Too late.

Ryul wandered into the room holding a bag of gummies. “Why are y’all screaming?”

Woojin shoved the journal toward him immediately.

“Read page thirty-two.”

Ryul skimmed a few lines before choking on air.

“Oh my god.”

You were going to move countries.

Actually no.

You were going to move planets.

Ryul started reading dramatically while Louis collapsed against the wall beside him.

“If he sits beside me during evaluations again I might actually pass away.”

Louis screamed.

“THIS IS SO CUTE.”

“It’s not cute,” you argued weakly. “It’s psychological warfare.”

Ryul flipped another page.

Then another.

“Oh my god there are little hearts everywhere.”

“Give me the notebook.”

“No because look at this one—”

He cleared his throat dramatically.

“He wore black today. I need to stay focused.”

The room exploded again.

You lunged for the journal while Woojin physically held you back.

“I hate every single one of you.”

“No you don’t,” Louis laughed.

“Maybe not him.”

You pointed at Ryul specifically.

Ryul ignored you completely and flipped another page.

Then his eyes widened.

“Oh this one’s CRAZY.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He held the notebook up proudly.

“Future me, if you somehow end up dating Ohyul… don’t mess it up.”

The room went insane.

Louis literally fell into the cardboard box laughing.

Woojin was crying.

And you?

You were seconds away from evaporating from embarrassment.

Right then, the front door opened.

“Babe, where do these bo—”

Your boyfriend stopped mid-sentence.

His eyes moved slowly across the room.

Louis dying inside a box.

Ryul holding your journal.

Woojin trying not to scream.

You looking ready to commit homicide.

“…What happened?”

The silence lasted exactly one second.

Then Woojin pointed aggressively at you.

“She was catastrophically in love with you.”

Your soul ascended.

Ohyul blinked slowly. “What?”

“DON’T TELL HIM.”

Ryul ignored you completely.

“He asked if I ate dinner today. Marriage material honestly.”

Ohyul’s ears immediately turned red.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, horrified.

Louis pointed at him instantly. “LOOK AT HIS FACE.”

“I’m fine,” Ohyul said way too quickly.

“Bro’s blushing.”

“I’m NOT blushing.”

“You literally are.”

Meanwhile, Ryul had no intention of stopping.

“If Ohyul ever likes me back, I’ll literally faint.”

This time even Ohyul laughed.

Actually laughed.

Head lowered, shoulders shaking, smile completely uncontrollable.

And somehow that made everything worse.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I’m trying not to,” he admitted.

“You failed.”

“Oh absolutely.”

Woojjn grabbed the journal again and kept flipping through pages while you sat there dying quietly.

Every embarrassing trainee memory suddenly came back at once.

The tiny interactions that used to keep you awake at night.

The way you memorized Ohyul’s schedules accidentally.

How one compliment from him could ruin your focus for the entire day.

And apparently you documented ALL OF IT.

“Oh my god,” Louis said suddenly, softer this time. “You really liked him.”

The teasing died down just a little.

You looked away awkwardly. “Yeah.”

The room grew quieter.

Because it wasn’t just a silly crush back then.

You genuinely loved him long before anything happened between you two.

Ryul glanced toward Ohyul curiously.

Then narrowed his eyes.

“…Wait.”

Ohyul immediately looked suspicious.

“No.”

“You liked her back too.”

The room ERUPTED again.

“OH MY GOD.”

“I KNEW IT.”

“BRO WAS WHIPPED.”

Ohyul groaned loudly. “Can you all shut up?”

Louis pointed at him accusingly. “You used to volunteer for extra practice whenever she stayed late.”

“And you kept asking where she was,” Woojin added immediately.

Ryul gasped dramatically. “WAIT. You used to fix your hair every time she entered the room.”

You slowly turned toward Ohyul.

“…You liked me first?”

“No.”

“Yes you did,” all three members answered instantly.

Ohyul buried his face in his hands.

Traitors.

“You guys remember too much.”

“That’s because you were obvious,” Louis said.

“You stared at her during monthly evaluations,” Woojin added.

“And every time she complimented you, you acted weird for hours,” Ryul finished proudly.

Now it was Ohyul’s turn to look embarrassed.

And honestly?

Watching him suffer with you made this slightly better.

Slightly.

Eventually the members wandered back outside to continue “helping,” though the laughing definitely didn’t stop.

Louis pointed at the two of you while leaving.

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Get out,” you muttered.

The room finally fell quiet once the door closed.

You still refused to look Ohyul in the eyes.

“This is humiliating.”

“A little,” he admitted softly.

“You were never supposed to see that journal.”

“I’m kinda glad I did.”

You peeked at him then.

His expression wasn’t teasing anymore.

It was warm.

Fond.

Like he was looking at every old version of you all at once.

“You really wrote all this?” he asked quietly.

“I was sixteen and dramatic.”

“You’re still dramatic.”

“Not helping.”

He smiled softly before flipping carefully through the pages again.

Not to tease.

Just… reading.

Like the journal mattered.

Then he stopped at the page Ryul read earlier.

Future me, if you somehow end up dating Ohyul… don’t mess it up.

Your face heated instantly again.

“Okay maybe let’s skip that one.”

But Ohyul stayed quiet.

Then he reached for a pen sitting on your old desk.

“What are you doing?”

Without answering, he leaned over the page and wrote something beneath your old entry.

Then he handed the journal back to you.

You didn’t mess it up.I liked you first anyway.

Your chest tightened immediately.

You looked up at him in disbelief.

Ohyul just smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I used to look for your name on attendance sheets,” he admitted quietly.

Your jaw dropped.

“And whenever you missed practice, my mood got bad for the whole day.”

“Why are you saying these things NOW?”

“Because now it’s your turn to suffer.”

You covered your face immediately while he laughed softly.

“No seriously,” he continued gently, pulling your hands away. “You have no idea how nervous I used to get around you.”

“You were terrifying.”

“I was terrified.”

“You were literally an idol trainee.”

“And you were the prettiest person in the building.”

Your brain stopped functioning.

From outside the room:

“EW.”

“THEY’RE FLIRTING NOW.”

“KEEP PACKING.”

You immediately shoved Ohyul away while he burst into laughter again.

“Your members are horrible.”

“Well, they are.”

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers still slipped naturally into his when he held his hand out toward you.

And while he carried your old journal under his arm like something precious.

Maybe trainee-you really didn’t mess it up after all.

..................................................................................................................................

THE END~~

Requests are open!! I’m like a ChatGPT. It feels difficult to work without a prompt. Feel free to gimme your suggestions.

Summary: When you get knocked down with the mother of all colds the night before your first date with Longshot, you’re determined to push through. Longshot, however, disagrees.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Longshot x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1002

Warnings: Reader is sick, Reader is called Sugarpop

A/N: This story is based on the time that I caught bronchitis right at the beginning of COVID and wasn't allowed to get treatment for it because I wasn't allowed to see a doctor. I did get a phone call every day to make sure I was still alive, and my husband had a list of local ERs he could bring me if I took a turn for the worse, but yeah. Do not recommend. 0/10 stars.

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May I entertain you with the idea of a sweet Longshot trying to confess his love but as soon as he sees you, he is a blushing, stuttering mess who can't say anything

Aaaah poor sweet boy

A few minutes ago, this had seemed like a good idea.

But now, as Longshot stood in front of you in the empty briefing room, he couldn’t make the words come out.

“Longshot?” Your voice was full of concern as you took a step towards him. “Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head stiffly, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides as he tries to speak. Why is it so hard for him to verbalize feelings that he’s so sure of? Maybe this isn’t a good idea. If he doesn’t say anything, you can still remain friends and he’ll at least continue to have you in his life—

“Are you sure?” He hasn’t noticed how close you’d crept, but now your palm is pressed against his cheek, a frown on your face. “You look really flushed, and your face is warm... come on, let’s go to the medbay.”

“No! No, no no, everything’s fine, I’m fine,” he stammers, “I just- I wanted to tell you- I-“

He breaks off in a frustrated sigh, his right hand shooting up to clutch yours as you pull it away from him so he can speak. “You’re wonderful!“ He finally gasps, staring around you imploringly, tightening his fingers around yours in the hope that you’ll understand. “I think you’re wonderful. I love you. I’m sorry, I couldn’t go any longer without telling you, but it’s fine if yo-mph!”

His babbling is cut off by you launching yourself at him and kissing him eagerly, and Longshot is left floundering for a moment as you lace your fingers with his, but his other arm wraps around your waist. You can’t but smile as you kiss him, and your elation is contagious because then he’s grinning, and you’re both laughing and pulling apart as you bask in your happiness together.

“I never knew,” you say softly. “You never outright said anything, I’m sorry I didn’t know—“

Longshot may not be good with words, but he’s far better with his actions, and this time your apologies are stopped by him leaning in to kiss you enthusiastically.

Sicky

Pairing - Louis x reader

Genre - fluff

Summary - you take care of Louis when he’s sick!

Requested

MASTERLIST

Requests are open!!

You don’t realize something’s wrong until he doesn’t text you back.

Louis is usually the type to spam you at the most random times. A picture of his half eaten breakfast. A voice note of him humming a melody he swears is going to be in the next comeback. A blurry selfie with the caption “I look good right now don’t lie.”

So when your phone stays quiet all morning, it sits weird in your chest.

You try not to overthink it at first. He’s busy. Practice. Meetings. Maybe he just fell asleep again because he stayed up too late. That happens all the time.

Still, you check your messages again.

Nothing.

By the time it hits early afternoon, you cave.

You: are you alive

You: hello???

You: if you died im gonna be mad

The message delivers, but no read receipt. That’s what makes your stomach drop.

You stare at the screen for a second before grabbing your hoodie and heading out. You don’t even really think about it. Your body just moves.

The dorm isn’t far. You’ve been there enough times that the walk feels automatic, but today everything feels a little too quiet, a little too slow.

When you finally get there, you don’t bother knocking lightly. You ring the bell and then knock again.

A few seconds later, the door opens.

Woojin blinks at you. “Oh. Hey.”

“Is Louis here?” you ask immediately.

He nods, stepping aside to let you in. “Yeah. He’s been in his room all day.”

Something about the way he says it makes your chest tighten. “Is he okay?”

Woojin shrugs. “He said he’s fine, but he looks like he got hit by a truck. Won’t come out. Didn’t eat either.”

Of course he didn’t.

You thank him quickly and head straight down the hall. You don’t even hesitate before knocking on Louis’s door.

“Louis?”

No answer.

You press your ear lightly against the wood. You can hear something faint. Movement maybe.

“Hey, it’s me,” you say, softer this time. “Open up.”

There’s a pause. A long one.

Then you hear a quiet, scratchy voice. “Go away.”

You frown immediately. “No.”

Another pause. Then a soft groan, followed by slow footsteps. The door cracks open just enough for you to see him.

And your heart drops.

His hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction like he hasn’t bothered fixing it. His face is flushed, eyes glassy and half lidded. Even the way he’s standing looks off, like he doesn’t have the energy to fully hold himself up.

“Why are you here,” he mumbles.

You push the door open wider without waiting. “Because you’re obviously dying.”

“I’m not dying,” he says, voice hoarse.

“You look like it.”

He huffs, but it turns into a cough halfway through. You’re already inside, closing the door behind you as you take him in properly.

His room is dim, curtains half closed. The air feels stuffy. There’s a blanket tossed on the bed, but it doesn’t look like he’s been resting properly.

“You’re sick,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m fine,” he insists weakly.

You raise an eyebrow. “You literally just coughed like your soul was leaving your body.”

He doesn’t argue with that. Instead, he just kind of… sways.

You step forward immediately, grabbing his arm. “Okay, yeah, you’re not fine.”

Before you can even guide him anywhere, he leans into you.

Not just lightly. Fully.

Like he’s been waiting to do that.

His forehead presses against your shoulder, and his arms come around you in a loose, tired hug.

“…hi,” he mumbles into your hoodie.

Your heart does a weird flip.

“Hi,” you say softly, steadying him. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“No,” he mutters, tightening his hold slightly.

You blink. “What do you mean no.”

“I’m already comfortable.”

You stare at him for a second. “Louis.”

He hums.

“You’re standing.”

“Still comfortable.”

You almost laugh, but you don’t. Instead, you gently push him back just enough to look at his face.

He pouts at you.

Actually pouts.

“You’re being difficult,” you say.

“You came here just to insult me?”

“I came here to take care of you,” you correct, brushing his hair out of his face. It’s warm. Too warm. “Which I can’t do if you don’t listen.”

He stares at you for a second, like he’s thinking really hard about it.

Then he sighs dramatically.

“Fine.”

You guide him to the bed, helping him sit down. He moves slowly, like everything takes more effort than usual.

The second he sits, he reaches for you again.

You barely have time to react before his hand grabs your wrist, tugging you closer.

“Stay,” he mumbles.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

He doesn’t seem convinced. His grip tightens just slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You soften immediately.

“Hey,” you murmur, crouching in front of him. “I’m right here.”

He looks down at you, eyes tired but focused.

“Don’t leave,” he says quietly.

Your chest aches a little.

“I won’t.”

That seems to be enough. He relaxes a little, though his hand doesn’t leave yours.

“Okay,” you say gently. “Now lie down.”

He hesitates.

“Louis.”

“…okay.”

He lays back slowly, still holding onto you like you’re some kind of lifeline. You adjust the blanket over him, tucking it around his sides.

“Have you taken any medicine?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Of course you haven’t.”

“I didn’t feel like it.”

You sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I’ll get you some.”

The second you try to pull your hand away, he frowns.

“Wait.”

“I’m just going to get medicine.”

“Don’t take long.”

You smile a little. “I won’t.”

You gently slip your hand from his and stand up, heading out to the kitchen. Woojin glances at you from the couch.

“Is he alive?”

“Barely,” you say, grabbing water and medicine.

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

When you come back, Louis is exactly where you left him. Except now he’s staring at the door like he’s been waiting.

The second he sees you, his expression softens.

“You came back.”

You snort. “I told you I would.”

He sits up a little, wincing.

“Don’t move so fast,” you scold, setting the water and medicine down. “Here.”

You hand him the pills, watching to make sure he actually takes them.

He does, though he makes a face after.

“Gross.”

“You’re acting like you’ve never taken medicine before.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Too bad.”

He huffs again, but it’s weaker this time. Once he’s done, he hands the glass back to you and then immediately reaches for you again.

You don’t even question it this time.

You sit on the edge of the bed, and he shifts closer, resting his head against your side.

“…you’re warm,” he murmurs.

You glance down at him. “You’re just freezing.”

“No, you’re warm.”

You smile a little, running your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, even when it’s messy.

He practically melts under your touch.

For a while, it’s quiet.

You keep playing with his hair, occasionally brushing your hand over his forehead to check his temperature. He stays close the entire time, like he physically can’t bring himself to move away.

At some point, his hand finds yours again.

He intertwines your fingers loosely, holding on without even looking.

“You’re really clingy right now,” you whisper.

“…am not.”

“You literally won’t let go of me.”

There’s a pause.

“…I don’t feel good.”

Your expression softens instantly. “I know.”

Another quiet moment passes.

“Stay closer,” he mumbles.

You shift slightly, letting him lean more fully against you. His head rests in your lap now, and he lets out a small sigh, like he’s finally comfortable.

“Better?” you ask.

He nods faintly.

Your fingers move through his hair again, slower this time. He closes his eyes, his breathing evening out just a little.

“You should sleep,” you say softly.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

“I won’t.”

That seems to be enough. Within minutes, he’s asleep.

You stay exactly where you are.

Time passes slowly. The room stays quiet except for the soft sound of his breathing. Every now and then, he shifts slightly, his grip on your hand tightening like he’s checking if you’re still there.

And every time, you squeeze back.

At some point, he stirs.

“…you still here?” he mumbles, eyes barely open.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He relaxes immediately, eyes closing again.

“You didn’t leave.”

“I said I wouldn’t.”

He hums softly, nuzzling closer without even realizing it.

Your heart feels full in a way that’s hard to explain.

You lean down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his hair.

“Get better soon,” you murmur.

He doesn’t respond, already half asleep again.

But his hand tightens around yours just a little more.