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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@lazysoulwriter
ㅤㅤㅤ𐔌 . ⋮ enjoy the silence.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ㅤ- goodbye!
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ㅤ ㅤLISTS | RULES | WE CANT BE MUTUALS :(
hi, angels. i’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and i think it’s time for me to step away from lazysoulwriter. this account gave me so many beautiful moments, comfort, laughs, and people i genuinely adore. writing here used to feel like home to me. but lately, i haven’t been feeling like myself, and i think i need to listen to that. i’m really grateful for everyone who ever read my stories, sent sweet messages, waited for updates, or simply stayed here with me. you all meant more to me than you probably realize. maybe one day i’ll come back to writing. maybe not. but for now, i think this is goodbye. thank you for loving my little stories. truly.
How are you angel? Miss you, love you! You're amazing! And don't let anyone else say otherwise🫶🏼🫶🏼x
i love you so much :( i’m trying to be okay. things have been kinda hard lately and i’ve been having some difficult days, but i know i’ll get better. honestly, writing little by little again has been helping me a lot <3 thank you for being so sweet to me, angel 🫶🏼
koala behavior
content: clingy behavior, suggestive, soft intimacy.
the first thing you notice when you wake up is warmth.
not the sun filtering lazily through the curtains of tanneyhill, not the thick comforter tangled around your legs, but him.
rafe cameron is practically glued to you.
his body is draped over yours like he belongs there, heavy and warm and impossibly clingy for someone who spends most of his life pretending he doesn’t need anyone. one arm locked tight around your waist, one leg tangled with yours beneath the sheets, face buried into the crook of your neck like he fell asleep trying to get closer and never stopped.
it’s the first time you’ve actually slept together — slept slept. not just the dizzy, heated aftermath where one of you sneaks out before sunrise. this is different. slower. softer. terrifyingly domestic.
apparently your unconscious bodies decided boundaries were irrelevant.
“rafe,” you mumble, voice rough with sleep as you try shifting slightly beneath him.
big mistake. his grip immediately tightens.
a sleepy groan leaves him, low and gravelly, lips brushing against your skin. “no.”
you laugh quietly, fingers slipping into his messy blond hair. “no?”
“not allowed to move,” he mutters against your neck. “ever.”
there’s something deeply unfair about how cute he sounds half asleep. this is the same boy who looks permanently one inconvenience away from committing a felony, yet here he is pouting into your collarbone because you dared to breathe differently.
“clingy much?” you tease softly.
“shut up,” he grumbles. “you stole all the blanket and used me as a body pillow.”
“did not.”
“did too.”
he punctuates it with a lazy bite to your shoulder, playful enough to make you gasp instead of yelp.
beneath the sheets, both of you are still bare, skin warm and slightly sticky from sleep and everything that happened hours before. his hand drifts slowly down your waist, thumb tracing your hip absentmindedly like he’s memorizing the shape of you.
casual.
except nothing about it feels casual. not the way he holds you like he’s scared you’ll disappear overnight. not the way he keeps pressing tiny sleepy kisses beneath your jaw between sentences. not the way his entire body instinctively molds around yours like he was built for it.
“you’re ridiculous,” you whisper, smiling so hard your cheeks ache.
you wrap your leg tighter around his and pull him closer somehow, even though there’s barely any space left between you anyway.
it almost hurts.
that awful sweet kind of ache. the kind that fills your chest until breathing feels impossible.
rafe finally lifts his head enough to look at you.
his blue eyes are still sleepy, lashes messy, mouth pink and swollen from kissing you all night. he looks devastating like this. soft around the edges, affection bleeding through every crack in his usual armor.
“you tried rolling away in your sleep,” he says accusingly. “had to drag you back twice.”
you snort. “oh my god.”
“almost took it personal.”
“poor baby.”
you lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose and immediately regret it because he catches your mouth before you can pull away again.
the kiss is slow. lazy. all warm lips and sleepy sighs.
his hand slides lower, squeezing your thigh before pulling your hips flush against his, and you can’t help laughing softly when you feel him getting hard already.
“rafe,” you breathe against his mouth, amused. “seriously?”
“can you blame me?” he groans dramatically, rolling halfway over you until his weight settles perfectly between your legs. “you smell like vanilla and me. lethal combination.”
you laugh again, fingers tugging gently at his hair, earning the softest sound from him. somewhere between a sigh and a moan.
it’s stupid. stupidly intimate. stupidly soft.
the kind of moment that sneaks up on you and suddenly makes your ribs feel too tight.
“we’re never getting out of this bed,” you murmur, half joking.
“good.”
he immediately buries his face back into your neck.
“cancel everything,” he mumbles against your skin. “tell your friends you died. we stay here forever.”
you giggle. “you’re such a sap.”
“only for you, dumbass.”
he bites your shoulder again before soothing it with his lips, and the air shifts instantly — warmer now, heavier.
his fingers drift teasingly along your skin until your breath catches.
“rafe…”
“shh.” his voice turns softer this time. quieter. “just let me hold you a little longer.”
but his hands don’t stop moving.
neither do your hips.
you cling to him tighter instinctively, nails scraping lightly down his back while his heartbeat knocks wildly against yours, both of you tangled together beneath tangled sheets and fading morning light.
messy. sleepy. a little pathetic, honestly.
but in the best way possible.
and somewhere between his laughter against your mouth and the way he keeps pulling you impossibly closer, one horrible realization settles into your chest:
you never want this to end.
© lazysoulwriter 2026
right right right
via sofyvisuals on insta
flashbulb hearts
requested! thank you. content: actress!reader, paparazzi, public attention, anxiety/nervousness
the first thing joe noticed when he stepped out of the car was the noise.
not music, not traffic, not the distant chatter of reporters spilling over one another behind barricades, but your noise. the kind that only existed around people like you. a wall of camera shutters clicking so fast they almost blended into static, fans screaming your name from somewhere beyond the velvet ropes, publicists moving with headsets and tight smiles while giant spotlights swept across the front of the theater.
your premiere. your night.
and somehow joe keery, a man who had spent years on stages with a guitar in his hand and entire arenas staring at him, suddenly felt like he’d forgotten how to exist inside his own body.
“you okay?” your voice pulled him back immediately. soft. amused already.
joe looked over and nearly made things worse for himself.
you sat beside him in the car, one hand resting against the leather seat, dressed in something dark and impossibly elegant that made you look less like a real person and more like someone painted into an old hollywood photograph. your makeup was subtle, your jewelry minimal, and somehow that only made you look more terrifyingly beautiful.
he blinked once. then twice.
“yeah,” he lied.
you smiled slowly, clearly unconvinced. “you look pale.”
“i’m always pale.”
“that’s true.”
joe laughed under his breath, rubbing his palms against his suit pants. “i think i forgot how red carpets work.”
“you literally do these all the time.”
“not yours.”
the words slipped out before he could stop them.
your expression softened immediately after that, something warm appearing beneath the polished movie-star composure you wore so naturally outside. joe had always loved that part most — the way the world saw elegance and mystery while he got to see the sleepy girl who stole his hoodies and laid on top of him while watching cooking shows.
outside, another eruption of screaming echoed down the street.
joe groaned quietly.
you reached over without hesitation, fixing the collar of his suit jacket with careful fingers. “baby, breathe.”
“i am breathing.”
“you’re breathing like someone’s chasing you.”
“they kind of are.”
you laughed softly at that, the sound small and genuine inside the dim car. joe felt his shoulders loosen almost instantly.
that was the problem with you. or maybe the solution.
either way, you’d always had this terrifying ability to calm him down just by looking at him.
“you know nobody’s really paying attention to you, right?” you teased gently. “this is my premiere.”
joe stared at you flatly. “that is objectively false.”
because the thing was — people did pay attention to him when he was around you. not because he was more famous. you probably had twice the recognition he did at this point. award-winning actress, critics constantly calling you the most talented performer of your generation, magazines obsessed with your elegance, the internet dissecting every interview you gave like scripture.
no, people paid attention to joe because of the way he looked at you.
he’d learned that accidentally.
it started with compilations online. tiny moments caught during interviews or award shows where he was supposed to be listening to someone else but was instead staring at you like you’d personally hung the moon in the sky. fans zooming in on the way his face softened whenever you spoke. tweets with millions of likes analyzing “joe keery’s inability to act normal around his girlfriend.”
which was unfair, honestly.
because you were the one making it impossible.
“ready?” your publicist asked through the cracked window.
you glanced toward joe one more time.
he nodded quickly, though his stomach still twisted itself into knots.
the second the car door opened, the world exploded.
flashes hit immediately. voices overlapping everywhere at once.
“over here!”
“joe!”
“y/n!”
“this way, sweetheart!”
joe stepped out first, then held his hand toward you automatically. you took it without hesitation, graceful even while climbing out in heels. the crowd somehow got louder after that.
jesus christ.
joe tried not to squint against the cameras. tried not to think too hard about where his hands were supposed to go. tried not to look as overwhelmed as he felt while you moved through everything effortlessly beside him.
you smiled for photos like you were born doing it. calm. composed. beautiful in that devastating kind of way that made entire carpets go quiet for half a second when you turned toward them.
joe leaned closer to you while photographers shouted directions.
“am i standing weird?”
your smile twitched instantly.
“no.”
“i feel like i’m standing weird.”
“you look handsome.”
“that wasn’t the question.”
now you were fully trying not to laugh.
one photographer yelled for you to pose alone for a few shots. joe immediately stepped aside, grateful for the brief escape, but then he made the mistake of actually looking at you.
big mistake.
you turned toward the cameras, lights catching against your earrings while flashes illuminated your face over and over again. there was something surreal about seeing the woman who fell asleep on his chest every sunday suddenly transform into this version of yourself. untouchable. cinematic.
joe forgot there were cameras on him entirely.
because you looked unbelievable.
and apparently everyone noticed.
somewhere nearby, a reporter laughed quietly. “he’s gone.”
joe blinked. “what?”
the woman grinned knowingly, motioning subtly toward him. “you’ve been staring at her for, like, two straight minutes.”
heat rushed instantly into his face.
“oh. cool.”
behind him, you finally glanced over toward joe again. the second your eyes met his, your entire expression changed. softer. realer somehow. like the version of yourself reserved only for him had slipped through the cracks.
joe smiled before he could help it.
the internet was going to have a field day with this one.
hours later, after interviews and endless photographs and afterparties crowded with actors and champagne and industry conversations neither of you actually cared about, joe practically collapsed into the backseat of the car beside you.
the door shut.
silence.
he exhaled so dramatically you burst into laughter.
“oh my god,” you said, turning toward him immediately. “you were more nervous than me.”
“i know,” joe groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “that was awful.”
“you did amazing.”
“i forgot how arms work halfway through.”
you laughed harder at that, finally kicking your heels off with visible relief before curling closer against him in the dim lighting of the car. joe wrapped an arm around your waist automatically, pulling you into his side.
outside the windows, the city blurred softly past.
inside, everything finally felt quiet again.
you tilted your head against his shoulder. “you know my favorite part of premieres?”
“what?”
“this part.”
joe looked down at you.
your makeup was slightly smudged now. your elegant composure gone. just you again. sleepy eyes, tired smile, fingers tracing lazy patterns against his suit jacket.
his chest physically ached.
“you know,” you murmured softly, “everyone online’s gonna be talking about how obsessed you looked tonight.”
joe snorted. “i am obsessed with you.”
“i know.”
“feels misleading to hide it.”
you smiled against his shoulder after that, and joe thought maybe every terrifying red carpet in the world would still be worth it if it always ended like this — the two of you escaping together while the rest of the world stayed outside for a little while longer.
© lazysoulwriter 2026
I hope you’re doing well!<3
trying to! <3
Heyyy do you write for Carmen Berzatto ?
not yet, baby!
steady hands
requested! thank you. content: autistic!reader, comfort, overload, soft reassurance, quiet intimacy.
“hey—”
his voice comes out softer than usual the second he sees you. you’re not crying. not really. but you’re curled in on yourself, hands pressed tight over your ears, shoulders tense in that way he’s learned means too much, too fast, all at once.
he slows down immediately. doesn’t rush. doesn’t crowd. just stops a few steps away.
“is it loud?” he asks gently.
you nod. quick, sharp. everything feels wrong. the lights, the sounds, even the air like it’s pressing too close against your skin. you squeeze your eyes shut tighter.
“okay,” he murmurs. “okay, i’ve got you.” he moves carefully, like approaching something fragile. not because he thinks you’ll break, but because he knows the world already feels too harsh. “can i come closer?” he asks.
you hesitate for half a second. then nod.
he steps in slowly, crouching down in front of you instead of towering over you like he easily could. always meeting you where you are. always. “do you want me to touch you?” he asks, voice low, steady.
another pause. “…yes,” you manage, barely above a whisper.
he doesn’t hug you right away. his hands settle gently around your wrists first, grounding, steady, giving you a second to adjust. his thumbs move in slow, soft circles against your skin. “just me,” he says quietly. “okay? just me.”
your breathing stutters, but it starts to follow the rhythm of his hands without you even noticing. slow. in. out.
“that’s it,” he murmurs. “you’re doing so good.”
he shifts a little closer, carefully, giving you time to pull away if you need to. you don’t. so he wraps his arms around you, firm but not tight, holding you like he’s trying to shield you from everything else without trapping you. your forehead presses into his shoulder and it’s quieter here — not actually quieter, but it feels like it is.
“too bright?” he asks softly.
you nod against him. there’s a soft click a second later. you don’t see him reach for the lamp. you just feel the room dim.
“better?” he whispers.
“…yeah.”
your hands slowly move from your ears to clutch at his shirt instead. he doesn’t comment on it. just lets you. “want me to talk?” he asks after a moment. “or quiet?”
“…talk,” you whisper.
he hums softly, thinking. “okay. um— i saw a dog earlier today. on the way back from the office.” your grip tightens just a little. good. he keeps going, voice warm, almost amused. “he kept trying to chase his own tail, but he kept falling over halfway through. like he forgot how legs worked.”
a small, shaky breath leaves you, almost a laugh. he notices.
“yeah,” he murmurs. “i think you would’ve liked him.”
your breathing evens out more. in. out. his hand comes up to rest gently at the back of your head, not pushing. just there. steady, grounding. “nothing’s gonna happen to you,” he says quietly. “i’m right here.”
you nod against him. you know. everything still feels a little too sharp around the edges, but it’s manageable now. because he’s here. because it’s just him.
after a while, you pull back slightly, just enough to look at him. his eyes are already on you — soft, focused, like he’s been watching the whole time just to make sure you’re okay.
“hi,” he says gently.
your lips twitch. “…hi.”
his thumb brushes lightly over your wrist again, the same slow rhythm as before. “feeling a little better?” he asks.
you nod. “yeah.”
he smiles. small, relieved, like that’s all he needed. “okay,” he murmurs. “we can stay here as long as you want.”
you hesitate for a second, then lean back into him again. he doesn’t even flinch, just wraps his arms around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
© lazysoulwriter 2026
caught in the crowd
requested! thank you. ♡ content: established relationship, public exposure, soft + subtle pda, protective jacob
coachella never really feels real. it’s all heat and music and bodies moving too close together, glitter catching in the corners of your eyes, the bass vibrating through your ribs like a second heartbeat.
everything blurs into something too loud, too bright, too much. and somehow, in the middle of all of it, you still find him.
jacob stands out without trying. he always does. tall enough that your eyes lock onto him like muscle memory, sunglasses slipping low on his nose, curls messy from the heat, a loose shirt hanging open just enough to show the dip of his collarbones. but it’s not just that... it’s the way he looks at you, like none of this exists.
“there you are,” he says, voice low and familiar as you finally reach him again through the crowd.
his hand finds your waist instantly, not tentative, not hidden, like it belongs there. you smile, a little breathless, brushing hair out of your face.
“i was gone for like two minutes.”
“felt longer,” he shrugs, but there’s a smirk tugging at his mouth.
his thumb presses lightly against your hip, grounding, anchoring. it’s second nature now. the way he touches you, always there, always something. a hand at your back, fingers laced with yours, his body just close enough to feel. you don’t think about it anymore.
not until someone else does.
it starts subtly. a girl passing by glances at you, then at him, then back at you again, slower this time. a phone lifts. another. you notice it in fragments, flashes in your peripheral vision — people looking a second too long, whispering, nudging each other.
you lean closer to jacob, voice soft. “i think people are staring.”
he barely reacts, just tilts his head toward you like he’s listening to something only you’re saying. “they always stare.”
“yeah, but…” you hesitate, glancing around again. “it feels different.”
this time, he follows your gaze. his jaw tightens just a fraction, and then his hand slides more firmly around your waist, pulling you closer into his side. not hiding you, claiming you.
“let them,” he says simply.
your heart stutters. “jacob—”
“what?” he looks down at you, brows lifting behind the lenses. “you want me to pretend i don’t know you?”
you huff a quiet laugh, nudging him. “shut up.”
“exactly,” he smirks, but then he leans in closer, lips brushing your temple when he speaks. “i’m not doing that.”
not hiding. not here. not you.
your fingers curl lightly into his shirt, steadying yourself. “you know people are filming, right?”
“yeah.”
“and?”
he pulls back just enough to look at you properly, really look. “and i don’t care.”
it’s not dramatic, not loud or performative — just honest, and that almost makes it worse. you feel it settle somewhere deep in your chest, warm and terrifying all at once.
“you’re gonna cause a whole thing,” you say softly.
“they already think there’s a thing,” he shrugs. “might as well give them something real.”
you stare at him, a small, disbelieving smile pulling at your lips. “you’re insane.”
“you love it.”
you do. god, you do.
the music shifts, louder now, the crowd surging forward with it. instinctively, his hand slides down to lace your fingers together, pulling you with him so you don’t get lost again.
this time, you don’t miss it. the phones, the way people angle themselves just slightly closer, pretending not to look. someone whispers his name. someone else says, “that’s her.”
your stomach flips, but jacob just keeps moving, keeps you with him.
he stops eventually, finding a small pocket of space near the side of the stage. his hands settle on your hips, steadying you as you catch your breath.
“you okay?” he asks, softer now.
you nod. “yeah. just… overwhelmed.”
his expression shifts instantly, the teasing gone, replaced with something gentler. “c’mere.”
he pulls you into him, arms wrapping around you fully this time, your face pressed against his chest. his hand comes up to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair in slow, calming motions. the world muffles — the noise, the cameras, the people — all of it fading.
“i’ve got you,” he murmurs against your hair.
you close your eyes. “i know.”
and you do, even when someone nearby definitely lifts their phone again, even when you hear the faint click of a video starting. you stay right there, in his arms.
after a moment, he tilts your chin up gently so you’re looking at him.
“hey.”
“hi.”
a small smile tugs at his lips. “you’re really pretty.”
you laugh softly. “that’s your big moment? that’s what you’re going with?”
“yeah,” he nods. “figured i’d give the internet something to talk about.”
you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “they’re already talking.”
“good,” he says.
and then he kisses you.
not rushed, not hidden. his hand warm at your jaw, your fingers gripping lightly at his shirt as the noise around you swells again. it’s soft, intentional, and very, very public.
somewhere, someone definitely loses their mind.
you pull back slowly, your lips brushing his once more before you fully separate. his forehead rests against yours for a second.
“that’ll confirm it,” you murmur.
he hums, completely unbothered. “about time.”
you shake your head, smiling despite everything. “you’re unbelievable.”
“and you’re mine,” he replies easily.
your breath catches. not possessive, not heavy, just certain. you squeeze his hand. “yeah. i am.”
© lazysoulwriter 2026
soft relief
requested! thank you. content: oral fixation, finger sucking (non-sexual), comfort, soft dom!clark, praise, pet names.
you come home with your shoulders heavy, the door clicking shut a little too loud in the quiet apartment. everything feels off today. too loud, too sharp, too much. your jaw is tight, teeth pressing together without you even realizing, that familiar ache already building behind your lips.
clark is on the couch, but the second he sees your face, he sits up straighter, those kind blue eyes softening instantly.
“hey… c’mere, sweetheart,” he says, voice low and warm.
you don’t even answer. you just drop your bag and walk straight into his arms.
he pulls you onto his lap without hesitation, big hands settling on your back, rubbing slow, grounding circles. you bury your face in his neck, breathing him in, trying to settle — but the restless feeling in your mouth won’t go away. your tongue presses against the roof of your mouth, teeth worrying your bottom lip until it stings.
of course he notices. he always does.
one of his hands slides up, thumb brushing your cheek so softly it almost makes your chest ache.
“bad day?” he murmurs against your hair.
you nod, letting out a small, frustrated sound.
“shh… i got you,” he whispers.
his other hand comes up, fingers brushing over your bottom lip, slow and gentle, like he’s asking without words.
“open for me, baby.”
your lips part on instinct.
he slips his fingers into your mouth, warm, steady, grounding, and something in you immediately loosens. the pressure, the tension, the sharp edge of the day… it all starts to melt.
you close your lips around them, sucking softly, eyes fluttering half-shut.
“there you go… good girl,” clark praises, voice soft as velvet.
he lets you set the pace at first, just keeping his fingers there, solid and reassuring. then, slowly, he moves them just a little, gentle strokes against your tongue, nothing overwhelming, just enough to keep you anchored.
“you’re safe now,” he murmurs. “just breathe… and take what you need, okay? i’m right here.”
you make a small sound around his fingers, quiet and needy, and he only pulls you closer, wrapping his free arm tighter around your waist.
his thumb keeps stroking your cheek in slow, steady motions, matching the rhythm of your mouth.
“my sweet girl…” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “always so pretty like this.”
your grip on him tightens just a little.
“whatever happened today doesn’t matter right now,” he continues softly. “you’re home. you’re with me.”
you suck a little deeper, eyes stinging — not from the day anymore, but from the relief of finally letting go.
“that’s it… so good for me… relax, baby.”
his hand never stops moving along your back, slow and soothing, like he’s piecing you back together one touch at a time.
and little by little, it works.
your breathing evens out. your jaw stops aching. the tension fades into something warm, heavy, safe.
you nuzzle closer into him, content to stay right there on his lap, his heartbeat steady under your cheek, his presence wrapped around you completely.
clark smiles softly against your hair, voice barely above a whisper. “i love you like this… my perfect girl.”
his thumb brushes your cheek one more time. “take all the time you need. i’m not going anywhere.”
© lazysoulwriter 2026
i’m feeling SOOO incredibly normal about him
two lines
requested! thank you. ♡ content: pregnancy, soft fluff, emotional, established relationship, mentions of anxiety
you hadn’t meant for it to happen like this.
not the timing, not the distance, and definitely not the way your hands were trembling so badly you had to prop your phone against the bathroom sink just to keep it steady.
the test was still there. two lines. unmistakable. life-altering. you stared at it again, like it might suddenly change its mind.
it didn’t.
your reflection looked back at you — wide-eyed, a little pale, lips parted like you’d forgotten how to breathe properly. your brain was moving too fast and too slow at the same time, jumping from oh my god to joe to what do i even say?
because of course, the first person you wanted — needed — was him.
your joe.
you grabbed your phone before you could overthink it. your thumb hovered over his contact for half a second, heart pounding so loudly it felt like it might echo through the walls.
then you pressed call.
it rang once. twice. three. “hey, baby—”
he picked up with that easy, warm smile that always made your chest soften instantly. he was sprawled somewhere familiar. his couch, probably. hair messy, glasses slightly crooked like he’d just put them on.
and then he saw your face. the smile dropped. “hey… hey, what’s wrong?” his voice shifted immediately, gentle, alert. “you okay?”
you tried to speak, but your throat closed up. your eyes flickered down to the counter, then back to him.
“i—” you swallowed, shaky. “i need you to just… not freak out, okay?”
joe blinked, sitting up straighter. “that’s—” a nervous laugh. “that’s a terrifying sentence, sweetheart. what happened?”
your hand moved automatically, turning the phone just slightly. just enough for him to see the test.
there was a pause. a long one.
and for a second, just a second, you thought your worst fear might come true. that he’d freeze. that he’d pull away. that he’d look at you like everything had just become too much.
instead, his eyes widened. “wait—”
he leaned closer to the screen, like he needed to make sure he was seeing it right. “is that—?”
you nodded, biting your lip, your voice barely above a whisper. “i took two.”
another pause. your heart dropped.
“joe, if this is too—”
“you’re pregnant?”
his voice wasn’t scared. it was… soft. almost breathless.
you nodded again, this time faster, your eyes already starting to burn.
“i’m so sorry, i know this is—i didn’t plan it and i know your schedule and your career and i just—”
“hey, hey, hey—”
his tone cut through your spiral instantly. gentle, but firm.
you looked up. joe was staring at you like you were the only thing in the world. “why are you apologizing?” he asked quietly.
your lips parted, but no words came out. he shook his head slightly, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at his mouth.
“baby… this isn’t something you apologize for.” your eyes welled over.
“i didn’t know how you’d react,” you admitted, voice breaking. “i didn’t want to scare you—”
“you could never scare me,” he said immediately. and then, softer— “not like this.”
there was another pause, but this one felt different. warmer. steadier. you watched him run a hand through his hair, pacing a little now, like he had too much energy in his body to stay still.
“okay,” he murmured, half to himself. “okay, okay…”
you sniffled. “that’s not exactly reassuring.”
he huffed a small laugh, glancing back at you.
“sorry. i’m just—processing.” his eyes flicked down again, then back up. “you’re really pregnant.”
“yeah.”
another beat. and then his whole face changed. softened. lit up in a way that made your chest ache.
“holy shit,” he whispered.
you let out a shaky laugh, wiping your cheek. “yeah. holy shit.”
he smiled then. slow, a little stunned, but real. “we’re having a baby.”
the words hung there. and something inside you finally settled.
“we are,” you echoed, quieter.
joe exhaled, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe it.
“i wish i was there,” he said suddenly, his voice thick with it. “i hate that you’re alone right now.”
“i’m okay,” you said quickly. “i just needed to see you.”
his expression softened even more. “you’ve got me,” he murmured. “always.”
you nodded, your fingers curling against the edge of the counter. “are you… sure?” you asked hesitantly. “about this?”
he didn’t even hesitate. “yeah.”
it came out so simply it almost knocked the breath out of you. he leaned closer to the screen again, eyes warm, steady.
“i’m sure about you,” he said. “and if it’s you and me… then yeah. i’m in.”
your lip wobbled. “joe—”
“hey,” he cut in gently. “we’ll figure everything else out later. the timing, the logistics, all that boring shit.” a small grin. “but this? this is ours.”
you laughed softly through your tears. “you’re being really calm about this.”
he shrugged a little, but there was something deeper in his eyes.
“i mean, yeah, i’m freaking out a little,” he admitted. “but it’s not… bad freaking out.”
you tilted your head. “what kind is it?” he smiled.
“the kind where i feel like my life just got bigger.”
your heart melted completely. “god,” you whispered, “i love you.”
“i love you more,” he shot back instantly, then softened again. “so much.”
there was a quiet moment, just the two of you breathing on opposite sides of the screen.
then— “wait,” he said suddenly. “are you okay? like, physically?”
you blinked. “yeah, i think so. just… shaky.”
“did you eat?” he asked, already slipping into it. into care.
you huffed a small laugh. “no.”
“okay, first of all — unacceptable,” he said, pointing at you through the screen. “you’re eating something. now.”
“yes, sir,” you teased weakly.
“don’t ‘sir’ me,” he muttered, but he was smiling. “i’m serious.”
you nodded, pushing yourself off the counter, grabbing your phone again.
“stay on the call?” you asked.
he scoffed lightly. “i’m not going anywhere.”
you moved into the kitchen, propping the phone up again while you rummaged for something — anything — to eat.
joe watched you the whole time, his gaze soft, attentive. like you were already something more.
“you know,” he said after a moment, “this is the most cliché way possible.”
you glanced at him. “finding out you got your girlfriend pregnant over facetime?”
he grinned. “yeah.”
you rolled your eyes, smiling despite everything. “romantic.”
“hey,” he said, holding up a finger. “when we tell this story later, we’re making it sound way cooler.”
“oh, obviously.”
“like… i was there. candles. dramatic music.”
“you fainted,” you added.
“i would never faint,” he protested.
you raised a brow. he paused. “…okay, maybe a little.”
you laughed, and this time it felt lighter. real.
joe watched you, something soft and proud in his expression. “we’re gonna be okay,” he said quietly.
you met his eyes. and believed him.
“yeah,” you whispered. “we are.”
✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.
safe enough to sleep
requested! thank you. content: fluff, established relationship, exhaustion, soft intimacy
the break room is quiet in that rare, fragile way that only happens at the end of a long shift.
fluorescent lights hum low above you, the vending machine casting a soft glow across the floor. it smells faintly of coffee gone cold and antiseptic. familiar, almost comforting at this point. you’re sitting on the worn-out couch, shoes kicked off, legs tucked slightly under you, scrolling mindlessly through your phone just to keep yourself awake for a few more minutes.
the door opens. you don’t even look up at first — you already know it’s him.
“hey,” you murmur softly. jack doesn’t answer right away. there’s just the sound of the door clicking shut.
you glance up then. he looks… done.
hair slightly messed like he’s been running his hands through it all night. there’s something heavy in his eyes... not dramatic, not breaking, just… tired. deeply, quietly tired.
your chest aches a little at the sight.
“rough?” you ask gently.
he huffs out something that might be a laugh, might just be breath leaving his body.
“yeah,” he says, voice low. “yeah.”
you don’t push. you never push. instead, you just shift slightly on the couch, opening space beside you without making a big deal out of it. there’s a second where he hesitates. like he’s debating whether he should keep it together, stay standing, stay professional, even here.
but then he doesn’t. he walks over and sits beside you, close enough that your thighs brush.
warm. solid. familiar.
for a few moments, neither of you say anything. just sit there in that shared quiet, letting the world slow down a little.
you’re still holding your phone, but you’re not really looking at it anymore. you can feel it before it happens. the subtle shift.
his shoulder leans into yours. just slightly at first. then a little more. your breath softens.
you stay still, letting him decide how much he needs. and then… he exhales.
long. heavy. like he’s been holding it in for hours.
his head tips — slowly, carefully — until it rests against your shoulder. your heart melts. you don’t say anything. don’t tease. don’t move. you just turn your head slightly, cheek brushing softly against his hair.
“jack…” you whisper, barely there.
no response. you wait a second. two.
and then it hits you — the weight of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing evening out, the way his body fully relaxes against yours.
he’s asleep. actually asleep.
your lips part in the softest, most disbelieving smile.
this man. always composed, always in control, always carrying everything... just… fell asleep on you like it’s the safest place in the world.
and maybe it is.
your hand moves instinctively, slow and gentle, resting lightly against his arm. you trace small, absent patterns there, careful not to wake him. he shifts slightly at the touch, but instead of pulling away, he leans in more. closer. like he’s seeking it even in his sleep.
“okay,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “i’ve got you.”
minutes pass. maybe more. time gets weird when you’re like this — tucked away from everything, wrapped up in someone you love.
at some point, your head tilts to rest against his. you match your breathing to his without even realizing it.
the world outside the break room doesn’t matter. not the chaos, not the patients, not the endless noise.
just this. just him.
eventually, he stirs.
it’s subtle — a shift, a quiet inhale — and then he’s pulling back slightly, blinking like he’s trying to remember where he is.
his eyes land on you. and for a second, there’s confusion. then realization. then something softer. warmer.
“shit,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “i— i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to—”
“hey,” you cut in gently, smiling at him. “don’t.”
he pauses. you tilt your head, still close, still soft.
“you needed it.”
he looks at you for a long moment. really looks.
and something in his expression shifts. that guarded edge easing just a little.
“…yeah,” he admits quietly.
there’s a beat. he doesn’t move away. doesn’t fully sit up.
instead, he lingers there, close enough that your knees are still touching, your shoulders still brushing.
like he’s not quite ready to let go of it. of you.
your hand slides down, fingers brushing lightly against his.
he doesn’t hesitate this time. his hand turns, catching yours, holding it. firm. grounding.
“you’re gonna get a reputation,” he mutters after a second, a hint of dry humor slipping back in. “people are gonna start lining up to nap on you.”
you laugh softly, squeezing his hand. “pretty sure you’re the only one who gets that privilege.”
his mouth twitches. almost a smile.
“…good.”
and for once, he doesn’t rush back out. doesn’t put the walls back up right away.
he just sits there with you a little longer, hand in yours, shoulder still warm against yours. like he’s finally letting himself have something that isn’t responsibility.
something that’s just… yours. and his.
✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.
Would you write Jacob elordi or Nate Jacobs?
jacob yesssss
i’ve received so many requests recently (thank u!!), i promise i’ll work on them all, just please be a little patient with me <3
