#-proximity to me but I can definitely ask friends about it

[arminsumi]

I WANT TO KISS YOU / キスしたい

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

you and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

2.9k

Chapter index

Summary : you've come to visit Japan to meet these two boys you met online. Though Satoru can't speak English and you can't speak Japanese, the two of you still fall in love. Very cute. Very cheesy. Oh no... wait is there a tension between you and his best friend, too? Oh boy...

Warnings : romantic tension with Suguru / potential love triangle, cat scratch

Note : i think of this fic a lot and i found the continuation hiding out in my drafts sooo here 👍

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works

Satoru blinks awake to see your face. His heart beats harder.

結局昨日は夢ではなかったのか？ Yesterday was not a dream after all?

He's not an early bird at all, but from the first day of your visit he magically woke up early as if his soul was too excited to sleep when it knew you were right there, in the flesh. No screen. Just you.

When the first day starts, it feels like you've always been together. Was there ever a screen separating the two of you? And were you really going to disappear behind one again in just a month?

今のところ、彼女はここに留まるように感じています。彼女が訪問を終えて出発するとき、私は空港で赤ん坊のように泣くことになると思います。 For now, she feels like she's here to stay. I think I'm going to cry like a baby at the airport when she leaves after her visit.

Morning routines are carried out. The sky is cloudy at first, threatening rain, and by the time you three cluster into the kitchen to make breakfast together, it starts raining.

You and Satoru banter like two cats. Suguru's morning rasp is very strong.

"Satoru... uh... sugar?" you ask, preparing to make yourself a second one and automatically making Satoru another one, since he looks still very bleary-eyed even after spending an hour freshening up in the bathroom.

"...? Yes?" he tilts his head, then you raise the sugar cube jar. "Yes. Uh... four. Thank you."

Suguru's blushing because of the cute tension between you and his best friend. It fills the whole kitchen, which already felt full with their two bodies and a third one now. Everyone keeps bumping elbows and yet not complaining about it, in fact it's enjoyable to be squished together. Maybe because you three waited so long to be together in person, you don't mind it. There's a silent, ever-present comedy in the air about the tight proximity.

You hum happily, tossing in one, two, three... four? That's a lot of sugar. "Suguru, tell Satoru he mustn't have so much sugar all the time. It's not good for his health."

Suguru laughs. "I try to tell him that every day. But his sweet tooth is incurable."

"His dentist must hate him." you smirk at Satoru, who's been looking at you blushingly after hearing his name mentioned.

彼女の声が今では一番好きな音だと思います。 I think her voice is my favorite sound now.

もう一度私の名前を言ってください。 Please say my name again.

"Satoru? Coffee?" you interrupt his lovey-dovey thoughts and he suddenly reanimates himself, because for a moment there he zoned out and just stared at you with those pretty eyes.

"Mmm... thanks." he takes the coffee from you with a noticeable timidness that you can't quite explain. There's a lot about him that's indescribable, you're having a small internal crisis; aren't you supposed to be fluent in English? And yet you can't even begin to describe just how sweet and gentle Satoru behaves. The most you can do is use metaphors that barely justify him.

"Suguru, tell her... her voice is nice, and also sorry for cuddling you in my sleep (and that she can definitely kick me away at night if it bothers her.) Also!" (the three of you head into the living room, and Suguru habitually trips over the cat who stalks under his feet too quietly to notice) "Also tell her... if it rains today, does she still want to go out? Because if we go out in the rain, she might get sick. And I don't want her to get sick on her trip. Not that I'd mind taking care of you, Y/n, of course."

Suguru lets out a long sigh and pulls a funny face. You smile amusedly.

"...It's too early to be a translator..." he grumbles in English after Satoru overloads him.

"What? C'mon tell her everything I said!"

"Let me have my coffee first. How about the two of you write to each other?" he suggests, putting the rim of the cup to his lips and sipping languidly.

"Eh, fine." Satoru pouts, and stalks off into his bedroom to get his phone.

Then, when he's in his bedroom, his chest flutters for some reason when he sees your suitcase standing there opened and emptied into the free cupboard space. He takes his phone, smiles at the homely feeling of seeing your belongings in his room, and leaves.

"Oh..." he has a sudden idea, and remembers the magnetic drawing board that's hanging in the kitchen. He and Suguru usually use it for writing reminders to each other, like get milk or you're an idiot or sometimes it has doodles of Mint the cat with sunglasses on.

So he returns to you with this magnetic drawing board, and points at it meaningfully, then holds one finger up and bows his head as he begins writing very slowly.

Suguru's checking the weather forecast and muttering sour complaints under his breath to you. "Of course it would rain for three days just when you arrive... at least by the weekend it will be clear and sunny..."

"Mmm... it's alright. A little rain never hurt nobody." you respond.

"I like your optimism." Suguru compliments flippantly at first, but then continues; "It's really uplifting. I think Satoru said something about you being a joy once, he said it really poetically but I can't recall it now."

"Aw..." you dip your head beneath your coffee cup, hiding the bashful expression on your face, which Suguru chuckles at.

And then, for a long moment, you just stare and watch Satoru writing on the board. You're completely captured in this moment, completely captivated in his enveloping presence as he sits next to you. He has slow, meticulous wrist movements. His knees press together, like he's worried that he'll invade your personal space if he sits too comfortably close to you. Funny, considering he cuddled you all night and you had no complaints about it.

He's writing very simply and neatly, just like how he texts you. You're a bit baffled by the characters he's using, though he's trying his best to avoid using any kanji knowing that you don't know a lot of it. He's sure you can figure things out by slowly pronouncing each hiragana character, or at least he hopes.

"Here." he hands you the magnetic drawing board, and then raises from the couch to go feed the cat.

"Minto-Minto... " he calls after the cat and makes a small cute sound to lure her out.

You're trying to read each hiragana character, eyes squinting a bit.

Suguru leans in close to you. He just takes a look, but the proximity for some reason gives both of you butterflies.

"Ooh... that's cute." Suguru comments after reading what Satoru wrote. His voice reaches deep in your tummy.

"Hm... I'll spell it out and... figure it out... anyways, why did you name your cat Mint?"

"Oh... well. There's two reasons. So the first..." he sets down his coffee, like he's about to tell you a great story, "Is because Satoru watched this show called Tokyo Mew Mew growing up, and he liked the character Minto. So he calls her Minto. And then I agreed on calling her that, but I call her Mint, because I hate mint the herb."

"You — haha, wait what? You call her Mint because you hate mint?"

"Yes. I hate mint, both the herb and the cat. She hates me too, clearly." Suguru raises his hand to remind you of how the cat scratched him the night before.

"Such a cute Hello Kitty sticker..." you tease.

"Thank you. Only the manliest men wear Hello Kitty Bandaids."

"How did she scratch you anyways...?"

"Oh, she likes to hang out in the washing machine if Satoru accidentally leaves it open. And when I try take her out of her comfy spot, she scratches me."

You sympathize, "Poor thing."

"What, the cat or me?" Suguru laughs.

"The cat." you lie teasingly.

"Wow! And here I thought you were being sympathetic!" he raises his brows.

You giggle and look at him, eyes finally making contact — ooh no that's bad bad bad, better break it immediately. So the two of you look away like you've both just indulged in a taboo intimacy. His stomach flips.

"Minto has been fed. She gave me cuddles." Satoru comes back into the room, and you admire the feeling he brings with him.

"No scratches?" Suguru asks.

"No, obviously, she loves me more than you." Satoru cheeks.

"Fuck you, haha."

Satoru makes his voice lower and leans to Suguru, "(Did she figure out what I wrote yet?)"

"Y/n did you figure out what he wrote?" Suguru asks.

"I'm trying so hard. What does this part mean...?"

Suguru shakes his head and puts his hands up. "Like I said, I'm not Mr Translator in the mornings."

"But you've had your coffee! Please, just this part..." you beg, and he can't deny that sweet begging. He easily folds for it, just like when Satoru begs for anything.

"Okay, where — this? Uh... Satoru your handwriting isn't usually this neat, is it...? That part means... 'voice'."

"Oh... ohhh!" you suddenly realize, and then the boys swoon over you when you pronounce the characters out loud to yourself.

"Uh... I think I know what it means..." you feel your cheeks warm up from the crown to your jawline.

あなたのこえがすき。 a-na-ta-no-ko-e-ga-su-ki.

"I like your voice, too." you respond to Satoru, and he half-gets it and gives you a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

You look at each other and then promptly look away with shy smiles.

"You two are cute." Suguru comments.

"Ahah... ahah shut up... hey, the sky has cleared up." you point out.

"Ooh... it cleared up 'cuz Satoru walked back into the room."

You awe at what he said.

"?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Translator — (stop talking about me behind my back!)"

Suguru chuckles, "I wasn't! I was just — never mind. Let's get ready to head out."

And so you head into Satoru's bedroom to get ready, and Suguru heads into his bedroom, and Satoru himself goes into the cramped bathroom. Poor boy. He's really too tall for that archway, he bumped his head again.

彼女に花を買ってあげるべきでしょうか？それともちょっと多すぎますか？ Should I buy her flowers? Or is it a bit too much?

（なんてことだ）、なぜこのシャツには穴が開いているのでしょう？ (Oh my god), why does this shirt have holes?

The door slides open, he steps out of the bathroom half-dressed, and intends to quickly slip into Suguru's bedroom to borrow a shirt instead of awkwardly knocking on his bedroom door and disturbing you.

But oh, you know what? The cheesiest possible thing happens instead. The universe likes making Satoru's life a little more fun in odd times. So the two of you encounter each other in the hallway; you're fully clothed and he's got just pants and socks on.

He stutters once, swallows awkwardly, and even more awkwardly places his hand on your head as if to say sorry for this inconvenience.

But you laugh in response to the funny situation.

ああ、またあの美しい笑い声。 Ah, that beautiful laugh again.

"Sorry." he mutters, and disappears to go get a shirt from Suguru.

"It's okay." you reply.

The image of your pretty smile is burned in his head.

You can hear him telling Suguru something in the other room, and then you hear Suguru's muffled laugh as a response.

"(Don't laugh! I'm embarrassed! She's seen me shirtless now! No one's seen me shirtless except you!)"

"(You're such a virgin.)"

"(Say that again, I dare you.)"

"(Sorry, I don't understand you. I don't speak virgin, only English and Japanese.)"

You're wondering why Satoru sounds so embarrassed and annoyed, and then he groans down the hallway. It feels like you're their roommate, it's funny.

"Hi."

"Hi."

The two of you encounter each other in the hall again. This time he has a shirt, yes. And this time Suguru is there, too, and he's holding back an amused smile. He fluffs Satoru's hair as a way of embarrassing him more.

So Satoru leaves, and he leaves in such a way that it's super comedic, making you and Suguru laugh. Ooh, what a laugh that boy has; his Addam's apple shifts up and down deliciously.

"Ah... Suguru? I need help with the washing machine..."

"Yes...?"

"...this kid on the plane who sat next to me, he spilled strawberry juice all over my shirt and now it's sticky."

"But at least it smells like strawberries, right?" he jokes. "You can put it in the washing machine, I'll be doing the laundry in a second anyways..." there is a small moment of eye contact shared, then Suguru looks down, and frowns at something he sees, "(SATORU YOU LEFT YOUR SOCK ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!)"

"(Haha, sorry.)" you hear Satoru half-heartedly apologize from the other room.

So Suguru picks up the sock like an annoyed mother and goes to lecture Satoru.

"(You're embarrassing me in front of our guest. For the love of god, don't leave your goofy ass socks on the floor. What if she slips on them?)"

"(You're such a mother, Suguru.)"

You're calmly and casually going to put your juice-stained shirt in the washing machine like Suguru said, but then...

(the boys are talking and there's just this hilariously dramatic scream from the laundry room)

"DID THE CAT SCRATCH YOU?"

"(Did the cat scratch her?)"

"Ow, y-yeah!" you whine.

Suguru's the first one at the crime scene, and he picks up the cat and proceeds to lecture the cat as if it understands Japanese. It licks its lips and nubby nose and has an evil stare. You giggle.

"I'm so sorry... come, uh — (Suguru, we still have Hello Kitty adhesives somewhere, right?)" Satoru instinctually holds your hand that got scratched.

And he holds it so tenderly and caringly that it makes your whole chest quake for him.

彼女の手の傷はとても小さなものですが、それでも私は心臓がチクチクするのを感じました。 Although the wound on her hand was very small, I still felt my heart tingle.

He leads you to his bedroom, picking up some adhesives and antiseptic on the way, and sits with you on the unmade beds. You watch his fingers nimbly peeling the plastic off the adhesive, admiring how swiftly and perfectly he does even the littlest things. He has such a great attention to detail, it makes you self-conscious; is he thinking of you with the same attention to detail as everything else? Yes... he is.

He dabs some antiseptic on your small scratch, and then gently wraps and pats the Hello Kitty adhesive around it. You're pretty sure he's the one who bought them. Oh, if only you could ask him, but where even is your phone? Lost in a void somewhere, probably.

"Thank you, Satoru."

His eyes light up. His heart thumps. Why did those small, simple words have such a great effect on him?

"Mhm." he hums in acknowledgement. "You're welcome."

あなたの傷がもっと良くなるようにキスしたいです。 I want to kiss your wounds to make them better.

A second after thinking this and looking at your hand, he brings it to his lips and presses a very delicate kiss to the edge of your wrist, where the small cut spanned up to the base of your palm. Can you even call it a kiss? It's more like his lips graze your skin, hovering timidly.

And for some reason... the atmosphere becomes very intimate. Is it because of the place where he kissed you? The inner wrist has never occurred to you to be an intimate spot, and yet you're feeling as if he just kissed you on the lips.

You hear him audibly swallow, like he's conscious of this, too. The both of you become very aware of the tension in the atmosphere.

And then he looks apologetic, as if he overstepped a boundary. So you mutter a small, whispery "thanks..." which lifts his heart up into his throat and reassures him that you don't mind the intimacy.

"Mmm..." he blinks at you, pursing his lips.

His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and it feels like he's about to... well you know his body just wants to... he sort of...

"Hey, how's the wounded patient?" Suguru interrupts, and you and Satoru spring apart like you're elastic bands that just got released after being stretched.

"Ahah, I'm okay. It's not a bad scratch." you lift your hand, "I'll cherish this Hello Kitty Bandaid forever, thank you."

"Yeah, Satoru bought 'em so you can thank him."

"I knewww he bought them, haha! So expected... cutiepie." you admire Satoru, and he's pretty sure that the last thing you said is some cute nickname, so he smirks.

"Okay, well... anyways, let's head out before the sun rises too high and it gets too hot to walk."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

#gojo #gojo satoru #fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x fem reader #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jjk fic #gojo fic #gojo x reader fluff #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader x geto #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujustu kaisen #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #satoru

[sixosix]

and his voice is a familiar sound | scaramouche

forced proximity + childhood friends reuniting, humor, kissing and tension. suggestive implications and suggestive humor, a bit of scara’s mommy issues, wc 5k

ft. a down bad jealous bf scaramouche, bffs heizou and kazuha, and aether bc aether always has to be there

“If I ask you to come with us for a vacation, would you say yes?”

Your bedroom was already too cramped for one person, with what you could afford with your money after quitting your part-time job. It made it incredibly difficult for all parties involved when you invited someone over, especially when that person had no concept of personal space. You barely looked up from the pages of your book, humming halfheartedly to whatever Heizou is saying. You heard vacation and instantly decided to not waste your time.

Heizou must have sensed these thoughts, too, because he forces himself into your field of view by nearly climbing over your lap. “Hey, look at me. Would you say yes?”

“Heizou!” you hissed, pushing him off before Heizou could wrinkle the pages of the book that’s definitely overdue for borrowing time. You started to think about taking another part-time job if your friends kept inviting themselves over and invading your personal space.

Heizou looked at you, his face doing a complicated combination of a frown and a smug grin. “Come on. You never join us on trips…”

“For good reason,” you said, gesturing to the lapful of Heizou you are currently getting bombarded with.

“You’re so mean,” Heizou laughed, thankfully getting off your lap. He refused to let go of you, however, immediately wrapping an arm over your shoulder and pressing up against your side. This must be one of his techniques to make the people he was questioning feel restricted. It was working. “How will you get yourself to settle for a nice, young man with that attitude? What are you even reading?”

“I grabbed whatever book had a pleasing cover so I can tune your nonsense out.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“What?” Heizou clapped the book shut and turned to you with the eyes of a reprimanding mother. “I swear I’m being serious. Can’t you consider it for even a minute? You’re breaking my heart. Plus, Kazuha’s the one who’s inviting us out.”

Hmm. What a compelling argument. Heizou knew that no one could ever say no to Kazuha. You wouldn’t really care if your absence would break Heizou’s heart, but Kazuha’s disappointed eyes were enough to put a god to their knees.

You zeroed in on Heizou’s wording. “Who’s ‘us’?”

Heizou started listing each with a raise of a finger. “Just Kazuha and Aether—and a friend we met recently. Kazuha invited him.”

You frowned. You didn’t know Aether visited again. “How the hell did Aether get invited?” Then, upon careful reflection: “And who’s the new friend?”

“If he was around, why not, right?” Heizou laughed, carefully setting the overdue book aside from your view. “The new friend’s Scaramouche. Have you met him before?”

What a strange name. Kazuha always managed to befriend people from all over, like a child bringing home turtles and a new species of bugs. You made a note to look him up. “Never heard of him.”

He hummed. “Said he came from Sumeru but he looked pretty Inazuman to me. Funny guy. He’s like a disgruntled baby brother.”

“And you only met him, what, recently? Why is he invited to our group already?” you asked, like the territorial person you are. How come it seemed like you were the last to know about this guy?

Aether was alright. Aether came back every few months to check up on everyone and got roped into all kinds of things with your friends, so you knew him well enough already. You liked his long braid. Heizou and Kazuha had been your friends for as long as you could remember being a college student.

Heizou grinned, patting your head. “Scaramouche’s nice, I promise. You wouldn’t even notice he’s there.”

At your dubious stare, Heizou amended, “C’mon, do you think I’m the type to befriend an asshole?”

Yes, but Heizou wasn’t the type to befriend a major asshole whose opinions he vehemently disagreed with, and he thought belonged better in jail, so you had to think about it for a bit. At the very least, this new guy didn’t seem like a criminal.

Your friends loved traveling, with Kazuha mostly being the culprit, but you liked staying inside most of the time. They never forced you to go with them, so why was Heizou being suspiciously persistent today?

“I think he’s your type,” Heizou finally said, caving in.

“You’re trying to hook me up with him?”

“Not exactly… but you two would seem cute.” He went silent for a thoughtful moment. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed if you slept together.”

You made a face.

Heizou laughed brightly. “Alright, alright. You can go back to being the good poster student you are if you promise to think about it. Seriously. Kazuha’s moving to Liyue soon—he’s probably inviting us out because of that.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, reaching around for your book.

You would. What Heizou said about Kazuha made you remember that there are only a few weeks left until this is all over—then, after that, you all might go your separate ways. That thought floated around your mind for a little while as Heizou made himself comfortable on your bed, sighing before he dozed off.

You sighed, shuffling to give him space. “If this is your way of trying to make me get laid, try to at least be subtle and not weird me out before I even meet the guy.”

You stalked Kazuha’s Insta to search up this Scaramouche guy and nearly dropped your phone.

scaramouche11206. It was empty, entirely useless for your research. Scaramouche’s profile was a public account, had zero posts, and had four people he was following. It was Kazuha, Aether, Heizou, and a Vahumana Darshan update page.

You checked the tagged posts, and your jaw dropped to the ground.

Scaramouche was Kunikuzushi.

Heizou was taking a group selfie in the image, his tongue stuck out and winking while the camera showed two other men. On the left was Kazuha, with his ever-polite smile, then on the other, with the all-black getup was what the tags said was scaramouche11206.

It was a little difficult to tell why you were enamoured with the masked face with a short hime cut for a moment, but the piercing stare to the camera couldn’t be mistaken. It was a minute of staring before it clicked. This was your Kunikuzushi.

You dialed Heizou before you could even think about it.

“What…? It’s five a.m.” He sounded like he just woke up, “What’s up?”

You swiped back to the image of Scaramouche, as if staring at it any longer would imprint each pixel to your brain and bring him to life before you. “Hey, where’s Kazuha? Tell him I’m going.”

YEARS AGO.

Summer. The cicadas rang in your ears. They chirped about as you and Kunikuzushi trudged further into the forest. Sunlight peeked through the leaves, splashing Kunikuzushi’s beautiful face in a delicate glow.

Komorebi. Shadows scattered on the ground. Kunikuzushi lifted his head and turned to you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His voice was quiet, but even with the wind and the singing cicadas, you could hear him loud and clear. You could pick out his voice from a crowd. Your heart would know where to find him.

“I like looking at you,” you said. “I like you.”

He accepted the answer and continued walking. You beamed. Usually, Kunikuzushi would scoff and bat your words away, hiding his flustered face. But he didn’t.

Longing. Kunikuzushi turned back to you, stopping in his steps. You nearly bumped onto his back. “Do you like me enough to marry me?”

Was this a marriage proposal? You tried to think of you and Kunikuzushi, walking down aisles and reciting vows, and almost laughed. But then you tried to think of anyone else. You tried to think of a life without Kunikuzushi.

You thought of Kunikuzushi with anyone else and nearly threw up in his face. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Even if I hurt you?”

You frowned. “You would never hurt me, Kuni.”

Kunikuzushi’s expression crumpled. He could never hide anything from you; he was too expressive, eyes round and lip trembling. Your heart sunk to your stomach. You reached for his hands and forced him to look at you. “Kuni, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He looked at the ground. “I said I didn’t want to live with her anymore. I didn’t really think Mom would make Aunt Nahida take me.”

The cicadas faded. The world fell into a hush. Your grip on his hands grew weak. “What?”

Kunikuzushi didn’t have a good relationship with his mother; you knew that. They were complicated. They always fought and he grew up to loathe her. You knew that. But you didn’t think…

You breathed in deeply. It was not Kunikuzushi’s fault. It was not Ei’s—and definitely not Nahida’s fault. It was just the way things go sometimes.

You forced a laugh, hoping to ease the troubled expression on his face. “Were you proposing because you’re moving away?”

Kunikuzushi blushed. “Shut up.”

Your face softened. He was always so cute when his face was as red as the red by his eyes.

Kunikuzushi inhaled sharply, taking your hands and looking at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “If I were going to ask you out, I would do it better than anyone who would try to marry you. So don’t entertain them.”

The trip’s plan was basically swimming when you could, staying at a hotel, driving out of the hotel to eat somewhere cheaper, and it would be stretched out for a few days. All in all, it didn’t sound too bad. With the type of people you were going out with, you were expecting a lot more drinking (Kazuha) and near-death-related activities (Aether). Although Heizou said it was Kazuha’s trip, he was apparently mistaken.

“It was originally for Scaramouche and his family, but his mother had last-minute changes and couldn’t go,” Kazuha explained as he helped you fit your luggage in the trunk of Aether’s car. “Scaramouche said it would be a waste and told me to invite my friends.”

“Woo-hoo, Scaramouche’s mom!” Heizou cheered.

“When we met her, it seemed like you hated her,” Kazuha mused as Heizou climbed inside the car. You were in the passenger seat while the two were shoved in the back. It seemed that even if you moved to a bigger apartment, you’d end up suffocated by Inazuman men either way.

“Hard not to after hearing Scara’s contempt for her. I’m an empath or something.” 

Aether adjusted the side mirrors. “Are we forgetting anything?”

“Where’s the Scaramouche guy?” you asked.

Heizou cast you a sly smile. “He’s already at the hotel, probably buying us other rooms.”

At least another thing about him hadn’t changed: he’s still disgustingly rich. You did some digging about the hotel, and it was the kind of place you could only dream of even looking at. You suddenly felt severely underdressed for a five-star hotel, with only sweatpants, a duffle bag, and a dream.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Kazuha said, and weirdly enough, you caught him looking at you curiously from the sideview mirror.

“No?” Heizou crossed his arms behind his head. “I doubt Scaramouche’s the type to willingly share a room with anyone.”

Aether scoffed, laughing under his breath. “Definitely not with us.”

You looked outside to hide a smile. It seemed that your Kunikuzushi hadn’t really changed drastically. This made you feel better about meeting him again.

“What made you change your mind?” Heizou asked.

You sighed and fell into step along with him as Kazuha and Aether went on ahead. There are families crowding the lobby, draped in gold that matched the fabric of the chandeliers overhead. Their jewelry was brighter than your future. Even the floor smelled expensive.

“Scaramouche did,” you mumbled.

Heizou’s brows lifted to his hairline. “Oh?”

“I mean—I don’t know, I’m not sure yet.” You were absolutely sure, but it’d be embarrassing if he didn’t recognize you at all, and Heizou would think you were just lying. It had been years.

Heizou tilted his head. “Well, whatever it is, I’m rooting for you. And if he fucks up, I know how to pack a punch.”

You didn’t doubt it. Heizou definitely knew how to pack a punch.

The hotel was so fancy and so meant for only rich kids that you and Heizou stood out like sore thumbs by looking around. Some woman your age walked past, her chin high and her steps light. You and Heizou looked at each other, then tried to mimic the same grace as you pair sashayed towards the desk.

“What are you idiots doing?” Aether asked as you reached them.

“Fitting in, unlike you,” Heizou said.

A new voice cut in. “Took you losers long enough.”

Scaramouche turned around after speaking to the clerk, his mouth in a thin line and his stare piercing. He also stood out next to the men in polo with his fingerless gloves and gold rings. He looked like he belonged better on an Inazuman fashion magazine cover than on a hotel vacation with a bunch of losers.

Heizou beamed. “Scara!”

“Hey,” Scaramouche said, then his eyes landed on you.

It was hard to tell if there was any reaction on his face because Heizou went up to him to ruffle his hair, stealing away his attention.

“Thanks for inviting us out. I didn’t know you were the type to want to snuggle with his friends.” Heizou waggled his eyebrows as Scaramouche pushed him away with a hand to Heizou’s face.

Scaramouche wrinkled his nose. “I am not sharing a room with any of you three. You snore, Kazuha snores louder, and I would wake up to Aether’s leg on my stomach the next morning.”

“That was one time,” Aether muttered, blushing.

“How many rooms are reserved?” Kazuha asked.

Scaramouche sighed, craning his neck. He had a really nice side profile. “Still two. The other one with a king and the other with two queens. I was supposed to have the first, but you didn’t tell me you were inviting someone else. This shithole’s booked full now.”

Your gaze fluttered away as they all turned to you. You bit your lip, frowning. Did Scaramouche not recognize you? He was acting like he didn’t. He was treating you like he would any stranger. That upset you, but for the entire car ride, you were also preparing for it. It probably would’ve hurt worse if you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself.

Heizou grinned, slinging an arm over Scaramouche’s shoulder. “I suppose you have no choice but to share a bed with us.”

“No.” Scaramouche picked up his luggage and started rolling away. “Heizou, Kazuha, Aether, you share the king.”

The three men turned to you instead, surprise visible in their expressions. It was exactly because Scaramouche decided to share a room with you, whom he never acknowledged since you arrived.

You wanted to protest. If Scaramouche didn’t recognize you and opted for a choice that didn’t involve sharing a room with anyone, you’d rather sleep on the floor in Kazuha and the others’ room. But Scaramouche was already stepping inside the elevator and was holding the door for you.

You held your gaze to the floor the entire time as Scaramouche pointed at a room and told the three they would sleep there. Scaramouche flashed the card against the door of your room, then stepped inside.

“This one’s ours,” Scaramouche said. You couldn’t detect any hint of emotion.

The room was bigger than the two rooms at your apartment. It had two beds, as Scaramouche said, and a TV across. The room was cold as fuck. You shuddered, and Scaramouche remained unbothered with his layers of clothes that probably cost more than you.

As Scaramouche set his luggage on the bed closest to the window, you gathered the courage to not make this trip any more awkward.

You breathed in deeply. “I’m Y/N—”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He arched an eyebrow as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at you. “Have you forgotten about me?”

“No, no, of course not,” you said. “I could never forget you, Kunikuzushi.”

You stiffened, thinking it was a mistake and there must’ve been a reason he was called by another name, but you took a look at him and got distracted. His face relaxed when you said his name.

I could never forget you. It was sickeningly true. You can never forget about Kunikuzushi. He was your first love. He was so cute with his wide eyes; and he was very clingy, too, which made him all the more endearing.

But looking at the present Kunikuzushi, with his intense stare and permanently bored expression, he was hot, and you started to think that maybe your type was just Kunikuzushi.

Horror settled in your stomach as Scaramouche flashed a wicked grin.

“Then you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me, would you?”

“He said what?” Heizou cackled, hitting the wall as he threw his head back, laughing.

Scaramouche meant it as sleeping in the same room, but he could have— no, should have worded it better. Scaramouche laid down on his bed right after and went on his phone as if he didn’t say anything at all. You blurted some half-baked excuse and left the room to cry about it in your friends’ room.

When Scaramouche said their room was assigned a king bed, you didn’t expect it to fit five people—and Scaramouche said he wanted it for himself? The bed was incredibly big, almost in a lonely way. You have never seen an Alaskan king bed before, but now, sitting on the edge of it, felt as if you could fit your entire apartment on it.

Kazuha was in between Heizou and Aether, their backs resting on the headboard. They were about to sleep, too, but as soon as you burst in, they settled into position and listened intently. Except Aether, kind of; he was texting his sister, who was demanding a room tour.

“I never thought he would be this bold. I mean, demanding to share a room the moment he laid his eyes on you? Wow,” Heizou said, looking terribly criminal with his expression.

“It is surprising,” Kazuha mused. “I’ve witnessed how women flock to his feet and how he bat them all off like he never saw them.”

An unpleasant feeling washed over, which was weird because why would you be upset? Of course they’d flock to him—with a face like that. He had the looks and the personality that would garner him a lot of masochistic fans if he were a character in a drama.

“Does that happen a lot?” The way you spat it out spelled exactly how upset you are.

“No need to get so jealous, now. After that display, I’m positive that he wants as much as you want him,” Heizou laughed, falling forward and resting his elbows on the mattress. He moved his chin to his palm. He looked like he was going to ask if you wanted to paint nails and curl hairs the next second.

Your face felt hot. What was this conversation? You’d much prefer painting nails than talking about this. “I don’t want him!”

Heizou arched an eyebrow. “No?”

Even Kazuha looked doubtful, which was enough of a blow.

“I’m just confused,” you insisted. “You know what happens when you’re in a room alone with an objectively attractive guy? You get confused.”

“I get it,” Aether said, setting his phone aside to share his insight. “This is your sexual awakening.”

“What? No!”

“It definitely is,” Heizou agreed. “Why else are you crying about this to us?”

There was a sense of impending doom at realizing that Heizou was brewing some horrible, horrible thoughts in that head of his. “To stop feeding into my madness!”

Heizou clicked his tongue. “How do you think he feels? His childhood best friend came back to his life looking like that—I’m surprised he hasn't eaten you right up yet.”

You didn’t know what was more horrifying: Heizou implying he thought you were hot, or him implying that he thought Scaramouche thought you were hot.

Your face must’ve looked like a constipated mix between flustered and horrified; Kazuha chimed in to tell Heizou, “You should be more careful with your words. I’ve never met anyone as possessive as Scaramouche.”

“It’s already a miracle he even remembers me. He wouldn’t get jealous. I doubt he actually wants me that way,” you sighed.

“Oh, but you want him that way?” Heizou asked.

You wanted to slap that expression off Heizou’s face. “Of course I do. He was so cute when we were little—I already liked him then. I didn’t think he’d grow up to be so…”

“Sexual awakening,” Aether said again.

“Ow,” Aether whined when you hit him square on the head.

Reluctantly, you returned to your room. Heizou, Kazuha, and Aether told you to get your shit together and face this not-sexual-awakening like a man. Kazuha didn’t say it, but you could feel that he was also thinking it. And if he ever said it out loud, you’d tell him to go fuck off to Liyue already.

Scaramouche was awake. The door clicked shut, and you faintly felt like those heroines locking themselves up in a room to hook up with someone who they didn’t think was the murderer on the front page right now.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

You tried not to let your surprise show, but Scaramouche was staring so intently that you would’ve failed miserably either way. “The other room.”

The longer you looked at him, the more you realized that Kunikuzushi felt like a fever dream. Being only a few feet away from the guy you used to be so fond of, now grown and had an air of haughtiness that would’ve been a turn-off had it been anyone else— it was doing things to you.

“Are you scared of me?”

You laughed and nearly choked on it when registering that Scaramouche was still looking. It wasn’t something like embarrassment. It was more like laughing unabashedly and then sensing that your hallway crush walked past. Maybe it was a bit of embarrassment.

“No. No, I’m not scared.” You moved to sit on your bed, eyes trained on the wall. “You didn’t tell me you were back.”

“You changed your number. You moved out.”

“Oh.” You did do that. Your apartment was very far from your home.

“And I figured you forgot about me or wanted to forget about me because of what I did to you.”

“Oh.” You wanted to say that he didn’t affect you that much. Life goes on; you meet new people and lose them every day, and all that. But Scaramouche was affecting you that much, especially when he’s only a few feet away from you, looking like he wanted you to pounce him.

Scaramouche grinned lopsidedly. “But I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

What the hell does that mean? Your heart skipped a beat. Did he figure it out? Were you that obvious with your thoughts about pouncing?

Scaramouche stood up from his bed, moving towards yours slowly. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

You tried to avoid getting too close by leaning back, but he kept drawing his face closer, bending towards you. You’re one last tilt away from him pinning you down on the bed.

“No,” you blurted before you could even think about it. It was a little difficult to think about anyone else when you were a breath away from kissing. “Why?”

Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed, electric indigo. “Do you still have a crush on me?”

“You’re asking too many questions.”

“We’re catching up. This is how it works, doesn’t it?”

No, it was definitely not how this worked. Your neck was starting to ache with this awkward angle, and he hadn’t even answered your question.

“Do you?” he repeated, hovering above you.

You gave up on the painful angle and laid flat on the bed, frowning up at him. You crossed your arms to achieve the stance of someone who will not back down easily. “How are you so sure I even had a crush on you?”

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?”

What was this? Some fucked up game of 21 questions, but Scaramouche was too high and mighty to follow the rules? You didn’t know what to say to that. You wisely decided to stay silent, glaring up at him.

You probably didn’t look intimidating at all. Scaramouche smiled, much less sharper. Almost fond as his eyes flicked down to somewhere below your nose. “Am I still the only one for you?”

Okay. You would back down easily if he kept looking at you like that.

“You didn’t hurt me, Kuni.” You sighed. “You never could.”

Scaramouche straightened, his face carefully blank. It was much harder to read him like this. You sat up, wanting to ask if it was the wrong thing to say. You couldn’t get the words out because he lunged for a kiss.

You might have gasped. You might have made some embarrassing noise while a laugh rumbled from the back of Scaramouche’s throat. But that was all thrown out the window the moment your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the sensation of his warm mouth on yours.

He pushed closer, and you were pulled back on the mattress, his arms on either side of your head. Your eyes flew open when Scaramouche nipped at your lip. As if suddenly remembering where and who you were, you forced his chest back and gaped.

“What?” He looked irritated you interrupted him.

“At least say it back!”

“You didn’t even say it,” Scaramouche said, one eyebrow raised.

“I like you, Kunikuzushi.”

Scaramouche turned red and then looked humbled that you saw it. “I still like you, too.”

You looked at him up and down. You asked, but you didn’t want to hear the answer. “And you didn’t have anyone while you were in Sumeru?”

“Of course not,” Scaramouche scoffed. “You think anyone there was worth my time? You think I’d settle for less than you?” He scowled. “How about you? Nevermind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I’d do it better than any of them.”

You laughed, tugging him close with your arms around his neck. If anyone were to come in, they would assume the worst. Then again, maybe Scaramouche had plans to indulge in the worst.

wake up! let’s eat breakfast at the restaurant we saw yesterday!

ask scaramouche. so he can pay for us

Despite the freedom and space of lying on separate queen beds, you and Scaramouche were huddled and pressed close. And despite books in your bag, you were occupied with huddling and pressing close against Scaramouche. You were lying on his chest while he had an arm resting on your stomach.

As soon as Heizou’s texts appeared on the top banner of your screen, you looked up, and Scaramouche looked like he was going to murder someone.

“It’s a joke, probably,” you said. “They don’t see you as a wallet.”

“It’s not a joke,” Scaramouche said. “I don’t really care about that. You and Heizou close?”

“He’s the one who introduced me to Kazuha and the others.” You sat up from the comfortable position and stretched.

“So you’re close.”

“Oh, very much so.” Then you laughed at Scaramouche’s thunderous expression. “Idiot. Why are you jealous? He’s not the one I’m sharing a room with and was making out with last night.”

Scaramouche’s gaze cut down to your neck. He looked extremely pleased.

You and Scaramouche took the elevator down, holding hands throughout. You felt a little giddy. What must this look like to everyone else? They’d all assume you were out with your boyfriend. As you reached your friends, Aether had just started the car. Kazuha slipped into the passenger seat, and Heizou waved at the both of you.

Then Heizou gasped. Aether turned to you and gasped as well.

“What happened to you? You look like you were mauled by a tiger,” Aether asked, scandalized.

“If the tiger had a short hime cut and a thick wallet, maybe,” Heizou mused. You flipped him off and climbed inside the car. Heizou laughed and sat beside you.

Aether frowned. “What kind of tiger would that be?”

You groaned, burying your face in your palms and wishing that lightning would strike you down. You needed coffee. Or a beer. Maybe if you bat your eyelashes and kissed him on the lips, Scaramouche would buy you bottles of wine.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a figure forced himself in between you and Heizou. Scaramouche worked fast. He glared at Heizou and tugged you away from him.

Heizou’s eyes went wide. “What’d I do?”

“Know your place, Shikanoin,” Scaramouche said. You just wanted to at least not be half-sitting on his lap, but he was proving a point and didn’t let you budge.

Kazuha smiled. “I warned you, Heizou.”

“Damn,” Heizou said. He looked exhausted. He was the one who suggested you and Scaramouche hook up in the first place—did he not expect his intuition to be right this time? “Didn’t take you for the clingy type. Two more days of this?”

“This is not some fling,” Scaramouche hissed. “You think I don’t take this seriously?”

You smiled as your heart fluttered. Scaramouche could be so unintentionally sweet sometimes, not that you’d tell it to his face, because he would grumble and hide his face. You rather liked his face. It was pretty, and you knew that if you tugged his hood down, you’d see a bruise on his neck as well.

“Didn’t take him for a romantic as well,” Kazuha said, thoroughly entertained.

“Wait, are you actually a thing now?” Aether made a face. “What the hell happened in that room?”

Scaramouche smirked. “You sure you wanna know?”

a/n it was already so hard for me to not turn it into a heizou fic dude. That entire first part was so unnecessary i was just hopelessly infatuated. BUT ANYWAY!!1 thank you so much for reading i hope u liked it <3 if u do, leave a comment or a reblog so i can see your thoughts :DD

also, another note: on the day i wrote this fic the insta acc of scara didnt exist. so if it does by the time youve read this fic, its pure coincidence and i have nothing to do w it. or maybe i did, because i came up w the name HAHA

#genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin impact x you #wanderer x you #genshin x reader #genshin drabble #wanderer fluff #genshin impact #kunikuzushi x you

[skzdarlings]

04. sharing a bed series ; skz ; hyunjin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 4/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. penetrative sex n the pull out method lol. also hyunjin n reader were drugged the night before, premise is based around them getting married in vegas under the influence and not remembering how it happened in the morning. drama llama antics ensue.

-

Hyunjin has the heart of a sentimental corvid; he loves his people, but he’s weird and sneaky about it.  His propensity for dramatics is only in certain situations and the rest of the time he is quiet and tends to balk at grand displays.   He definitely does not like cuddling or hugging.  He will only begrudgingly suffer through it when his more physically affectionate friends get the bright idea to attack him with their loving arms. 

So you are wildly confused when you wake up in your hotel room with Hyunjin plastered to you, hugging you so tightly that you are halfway convinced he glued himself there.  His chin is nestled on your shoulder, his breath coming softly against your neck.  The hood of his grey sweatshirt is pulled over his head but some of his long blonde hair still falls on your face.  You blow at it unsuccessfully, getting some in your eye.  He holds you tighter.   

What the hell?

You arrived in Las Vegas yesterday and while most of last night is a foggy blur, you do remember the room had two twin beds.  Sure enough, there is a second bed just a few feet from yours, the covers completely untouched.  The neatly made bed is a stark contrast to the mess of your bed: the duvet sliding off the foot, the pillows on the floor, the bedding partially untucked.  All the sheets are wrapped around your body like a cocoon while a shivering Hyunjin clings to you, presumably for warmth.    

You try to roll over but your bedsheet-burrito has you trapped, never mind Hyunjin’s death grip of a spoon. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper.  “I can’t breathe.”

He grumbles and squeezes you, making you squeak.

“Hyunjin,” you say, a bit louder.  “Wake up.”

He groans in his sleep and buries his face further in your neck.  His nuzzling sends shivers shooting down your spine. 

“Hyunjin.”  It comes out like a croak.   You try wriggling your shoulders.  “Hyunjin, wake up!” 

He makes a disgruntled sound but doesn’t move.

“Oh my god,” you say.  “How are you such a bitch even when sleeping? Wake up!” 

When he stays sleeping, you are forced to take drastic action.  You turn your face and blow, hard.   His face scrunches up and he finally stirs. 

“Ew,” he says, slowly blinking his eyes open.  His mouth draws into a sour pout, his brow tight.  “Stop.  Your breath is so disgusting.”

“Ahem.”

He makes a fist and rubs his eyes.   His dark brows are still furrowed but there is modicum of clarity when he looks at you.  It takes a minute to fully register your proximity, his eyes flicking here and there.  Finally, they open wide.  

With remarkable speed, Sleepy Hyunjin concedes leeway to Drama Queen Hyunjin.   He mewls like a frightened cat, ripping away so quickly that it knocks the air out of you with an oof. 

“What—” he starts.

He is interrupted when his thrashing makes him slide.  You are still bundled in your bedsheet-prison and can only watch as the clumsy oaf slides backwards right off the bed.  All those long limbs make a frantic windmill as he shrieks on his way down, hitting the floor with a heavy crash and groan. 

“You okay?” you ask. 

“Ugh,” he replies.   “My head.”

“Are you dying?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.  Well, when you’re done, come help me.”

His hand appears first, thumping onto the messy bed.  His head follows with an exhausted peek over the mattress.  His hood has fallen back and his long hair is infuriatingly neat considering everything.  Hyunjin is so beautiful that it is ridiculous.  All he does is run his long fingers through his hair, shake his head a little, and he looks picture perfect. 

“You’re staring,” he says with a scowl. 

“It’s because you’re so ugly,” you say. 

“Liar,” he says.  He makes a V with his fingers and licks between them.  “I’m sexy and you love me.” 

He is correct, so it is only natural that you try biting him.    

You chomp at him when he approaches, threatening to bite his fingers when they get too close to your face.  He pinches your nose between two knuckles and squeezes.

“Hyunjiiiiin, staaawp,” you say in a nasally whine.

He does, but only after playfully snapping his own jaws in your direction. 

“I should just leave you here and have a peaceful day,” he says.

“I’ll kill you and bury you in the desert.”

“Gross.  Can’t you bury me on the strip?”

“I’m gonna feed your carcass to some desert scorpions.”

“Ew.” 

It takes some effort, but Hyunjin manages to find where your blanket-burrito starts.  He grabs it and tugs like the annoying bimbo he is.  Your protest comes too late and he whips the blanket open, sending you flying off the bed.  You land with a heavy thud of your own. 

“Oops,” he says.  He rustles through the sheets to peer over the edge of the bed.  “Are you okaaaa—whaaaat are you wearing?”

You were already dizzy before Hyunjin decided to throw you around like a human tennis ball, but now it’s even worse. 

You have no idea what happened last night but it clearly involved a hit of something way, way, way stronger than usual.  It takes you a minute to come back to reality.  After shaking your head a few times, you are able to push yourself into a sitting position.  You finally look down.

You freeze. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “What the fuck am I wearing?”

“That’s what I just—”

“Hyunjin.  What the fuck am I wearing?!”

It is an utterly useless question because it is abundantly obvious that you are wearing a wedding dress.   A big, poofy, princess wedding dress with giant puffed up 1980s sleeves and enough cleavage on display that Hyunjin almost falls off the bed because he is tilting his head so much. 

You yank up the skirt as if that will offer any answers.  You find a pair of white stockings, one still neatly clipped to a thigh garter and the other halfway down your calf.   You stare at that stocking for a long moment, the vaguest recollection of something fighting its way through the fog of your druggy, drunk memory.   

“Uh,” Hyunjin says. 

You look up at him but his eyes are downturned to his own wrist.  You look there, your own eyes widening when you see what he sees. 

Your missing garter is looped around his wrist like a silky white bracelet. 

An image comes flooding back.  The periphery is still in smog, but you distinctly remember Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, gathering his long hair into a ponytail as he smirked up at you.  You remember him lifting your skirt, his head disappearing under the pile of white lace. 

You look at each other at the same time.  Did he just have the same memory?  Does he remember more?  You have no idea and you can’t bring yourself to ask.  Your voice is shot to hell, swallowed up by the heart that seems to have jumped into your throat.   

The silence is tense.  It is hotter than the desert in here. 

“We didn’t…?” he finally says, pointing between the two of you. 

“No way,” you say.  It sounds very uncertain. 

He lifts his other hand to tuck some hair behind his ears.  That’s when you see it.  Hyunjin wears so many rings so often that you completely missed it at first.   But right now his hands are bare save for one unfamiliar ring in a very particular spot. 

Hyunjin follows the trajectory of your horrified gaze and freezes when he spots the wedding ring.  He slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  You are afraid to check your own hand but it is imperative.   Hyunjin looks at you, his shocked hand still covering his mouth.  Together, you watch as your hand shakily rises out of the pile of white princess lace. 

There is a wedding ring on your finger too. 

You and Hyunjin scream at the same time, him clapping both hands over his ears as he hollers and you shaking your head and kicking your feet.  After your mini-freak out, you wave your hands to silence him.

“Stop, stop!” you say.  “It’s okay.  Be calm.  Be quiet.  This is okay.”

“We got married,” he wails, dragging his fingers down his face.  “My mom is gonna kill me.” 

“Your mom?  YOUR MOM?  Hyunjin, I’m gonna kill you before you even leave this city, so don’t fucking worry about your mom.”  You mime throttling him because he is too far to reach. 

Hyunjin flops down on the bed.  He lays on his back with his arms folded like he is ready to be mummified. 

“Oh my gawd,” he says.  “Oh my gawwwd…”

“Look, we might not have even done it,” you say.  It takes a lot of effort and you fall on your ass twice, but you manage to stagger ungracefully to your feet.  “Some rings and a dress don’t mean anything.  We were probably just goofing around.  What do you remember?” 

He is still in a mummification pose, his eyes closed.   

“Nothing,” he says.  He frowns.  “No, wait.  You were hitting on some ugly bitch of a man and didn’t listen to me, as usual, and the loser put something in your drink so I drank it to prove a point.  But then you still drank it because you’re the worst, and I dragged you out of there.”  He covers his face with both hands.  “Then we got married and ruined our lives.” 

“Okay, the last part you don’t know for sure,” you say.  You stumble around the bed.  “I’m gonna go wash up and clear my head and sort this out, because there’s no way we—”  You stop when you spy something sitting on the television stand.  It takes a few clumsy steps to reach, but you get there.

“Uh oh,” you say.

“Is that a marriage certificate?”  Hyunjin asks.

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.” 

“Cool.”  He rolls over so he is facedown on the bed, his voice muffled by the messy blankets.  “I love this.”

“I’m gonna… go… wash up still,” you stay.  You sigh and gather up your dress to stomp over to the bathroom door. 

“Brush your teeth,” Hyunjin says.  “Your breath is gross.” 

“I hope you suffocate over there and make me a widow.”  You close the door with a pointed shove. 

You want to disobey him on principle, but there is a truly nasty taste in your mouth so you brush your teeth before anything else.  You avoid your reflection for as long as possible because the crazed madwoman in the mirror is a terrifying sight to behold. 

You reckon with her monstrous appearance eventually, tidying up as best you can.   You remove the stockings and garter, gulping when the memory returns.  You splash a lot of cold water on your face and it helps ground you. 

Just as you begin to feel cleansed, you feel an itch on your throat.  You crane your neck and tentatively touch the sensitive indentation, the raised bruising of a hickey.   Touching it awakens another memory, one that strikes hot at your core. 

Hyunjin.  You.  This hotel room.  He pressed you against the door and caged you in, forearms on either of your head.  Despite his presence looming over you, you did not feel nervous.   You touched him as if that intimacy was something you always shared.  You remember him cupping your face in one hand and turning your head, him kissing you softly on your temple and cheek, him breathing lightly over your throat before sucking a hard kiss under your jaw.  He was all teeth and tongue, drawing moans out of you while you bucked against him.   You remember him grinding against you, remember him pinning you to the door.   You remember stringing your arms around his neck and him picking you up, then it all goes black again.   

You turn away from the mirror, still holding your neck. 

Did you… no.

Did you?

No.

You didn’t fuck Hyunjin.  No way.  You would have remembered that much.  If nothing else, there would be evidence now.  A used condom or a mess somewhere, a twinge between your legs.  You are both fully dressed.  You even have underwear on.  It’s not the underwear you were wearing when you first left the hotel room, but it is underwear nonetheless. 

One thing is certain; you did not go that far. He took a bite out of you and carried you to the bed where you probably passed out.  How you got into a blanket-burrito, you are not sure, but at least it protected your dignity.  Whatever was left of it, at least. 

You step out of the bathroom only to walk straight into a pacing Hyunjin.   You bonk heads and cuss each other out, swatting the other person out of your way. 

He walks over to the bathroom and is about to step inside when you release a sigh. 

“I have a hickey,” you say.   

He pauses in the bathroom doorway. 

“You gave it to me,” you add. 

You cross your arms when he turns around, his gaze suddenly too hard to meet.  You tap your foot and stare at the wall. 

“I know,” he says.  “I remember it.” 

That draws your attention.  You look right at him and plant your hands on your hips. 

“Well, what else do you remember?” you ask. 

“I—I—ugh!  This is so annoying!  Ugh!”  He grabs his head and shakes it like a snow globe. 

His stupid beautiful hair is barely ruffled and he still looks amazing when he surfaces.  He runs his teeth over his plump bottom lip and you suddenly remember him grabbing your face with both hands, him smiling at you as a hot breeze fluttered around you, him holding you steady as he planted a big, wet kiss on you.  It makes your whole body lock with tension, barely paying attention to the Hyunjin in front of you now, the Hyunjin on the verge of a meltdown as he intentionally smacks his head against the doorway. 

“We came back here,” he says.  His whole face is scrunched up with disgust like he just ate something bad.  “Then I gave you that.”  He slaps a hand over his face.  “Then you… tried…”  He puts the other hand on his face too.

“I tried what?” you ask, heat creeping your neck. 

“You put your hand down my pants,” he croaks, hands over his eyes.  “I said we should wait until morning and you started crying.  I think you tried to give me a lap dance while crying, actually.”  That does sound like you, drugged or not.  “Then I…”  He points to the messy bed.  “I wrapped you in the sheet to protect your honour.”   

“My honour?  Ewwww.  Don’t call it that.”

“I’m gonna go drown myself in the shower.” 

“Hyunjin, wait.”

Once more, you stop him before he crosses the door.  He sighs and his shoulders deflate.  Pushing a hand through his hair, he turns around.

“What?” he says. 

“I’ll take care of this, okay,” you say gently.  “We weren’t ourselves.  Thank you… for taking care of me.  Seriously.” 

He sniffs and looks aside, the tips of his ears turning red.  You try to ignore the pitter-patter of your heart.  

“It’s Vegas,” you say.  “I bet they have drive-through divorces.  I’m just… I’m just sorry this happened.” 

“You are?” he says, staring at the ground. 

“Of course,” you say with as much sincerity as you can muster.  “Hyunjin, I know you.  You’re a goofy old romantic.  I’m sure you’re not happy about your first technical marriage happening while you were drugged up, and to someone you don’t even love.  Right?”

He looks a little panicked when he meets your gaze.  It flashes in his eyes for a second, then he looks away.  He crosses his arms protectively over his chest.    

“Hyunjin,” you say.  It feels like someone just lit fireworks in your chest.  “You… don’t… love me, right?” 

There is a long moment of silence then he throws both hands in the air. 

“Why do you say it like that?” he demands.  “Would it be that bad if I did?”

“What.” Your jaw falls open.  “You love me?”   

“Unfortunately, yes.  Sorry for inconveniencing you with my goofy romantic feelings.”  He snarls at you.  “It just happened.  If I could have stopped it, I would have, but I can’t.  So live with it.” 

“What kind of love confession is this?  You’ve watched like a million romance dramas and that’s what you come up with?”

“I’m a painter, not a poet.  Good-bye.”  He is quick this time, jumping into the bathroom and slamming the door closed.   

It leaves you standing there, jaw still hanging open. 

Hyunjin loves you. 

Of course Hyunjin loves you.  How could you be so stupid?  All this time, you had yourself convinced your best friend was unattainable because he’s the most gorgeous creature on earth, but all this time he loved you and you didn’t even notice.   He drank a drugged drink just to protect you.  He got a bit nutty in the head and married you, but even at his most fucked up, some intrinsic part of him sprung to your defense.  No matter how out of his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that could potentially hurt you. 

Oh my god.  

Hyunjin loves you.  You love Hyunjin. 

You are pacing when Hyunjin exits the bathroom and smacks into you.  You bonk heads and curse, again, then he brushes past without saying anything more.  You watch him go to the clean bed, watch him fold back the covers.   He takes off his hoodie and his pants.  Despite how many times you have casually dressed down around each other, this time you find yourself looking away, hot in the face.   When you look back, he is in a t-shirt and his boxers, sliding under the covers. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Going back to sleep,” he says.  “I’m tired.”  

He doesn’t look at you once.  He rolls onto his side and faces the wall, laying stiff as a board. 

You touch a finger to the mark on your neck and shiver.

“Hyunjin,” you say, to which he just grunts in reply.  “I want to sleep too.  I’m sorry, but can you help me with the dress?” 

He exhales and closes his eyes, shoulders dropping, but then he flips the covers down and gets out of bed.   He still doesn’t meet your gaze.   His strides are long and quick and, before you can blink, he is in front of you. 

You open your mouth to speak but he grabs you and spins you around.  It feels like an electric zap from your heart to your pussy, hands instinctively clutching your chest in surprise. 

You can feel him fiddling with a few buttons, muttering expletives to himself.   

He is still wearing the ring.  So are you. 

“Hyunjin,” you say softly.  “I love you too.” 

He has his fingers on the zipper.  He stops. 

“What?” he asks.  He stops touching you entirely so you look back at him.  He is tucking hair behind both ears, shaking his head.  “Don’t just… say it,” he says, still staring sideways.  “That’s worse than not hearing it.” 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  At least he looks at you this time, even if it is with uncharacteristic uncertainty.  You smile at him.  “Unzip me please.” 

You turn back around, chewing on your bottom lip.  

It takes a second, but Hyunjin does what you asked.  You feel one hand on your back, the other circling the zipper.  He tugs it down slowly and you shiver as the cool air conditioned air kisses your back.  His fingers brush your bare skin when releasing the zipper.

“Thank you,” you say, glancing back at him. 

He nods curtly and spins around.  You smile, watching him march back to the bed.   You turn your back to him when you let the dress drop, then you remove your bra.  His open luggage is nearby so you slip a t-shirt out of the suitcase.  It smells like him, his favourite cologne, and that alone gets you hot.  

With a final tug on the hem of the t-shirt, you turn and walk up to the bed he is in.  He is sitting upright but under the covers, his hands folded neatly in his lap while he stares at you. 

“Can I sleep here too?” you ask.  “The other bed is a mess.”

He nods.  A second ago, he refused to look at you and now he can’t stop staring.  It makes you grin, beaming at him as you slide under the covers. 

“You’re staring,” you say. 

“I’m not,” he lies, still staring at you.  He slumps against the headboard and slides down until he is laying flat.  His hair pools around him on the pillow.  Ridiculously gorgeous man. 

You lean over him, staring back.  You rest a hand on his chest and can feel his heart palpitating as quickly as your own. 

“You are staring,” you say, then giggle a little because his expression is still wide-eyed.  “You look like you’ve never seen a woman in bed before, and I know that’s not true.”   

You say it jokingly but he doesn’t laugh.  He tilts his head, his expression softening.  His tongue touches his upper lip then he smiles at you. 

“Not like this,” he says with heart-stopping sincerity.  “Not you.  Not… my wife.” 

Oh god.   People always act like there is something supremely unsexy about wife or husband, some stagnant nothingness that kills sex appeal.  But the second he says that word, it feels like an electric storm ignites between the two of you.   His gaze is dark, his breathing hard, his heart still pounding under your palm.  You suck in a deep breath, a shuddering release.  You are already aching. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. 

His hand comes up and cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.  It passes over your bottom lip and tugs at it.  It feels like you have a heartbeat between your legs. 

“Fuck,” you say, and swing yourself over him. 

He makes a noise the second you are straddling him, both his hands dropping to hold your hips.   You lean down, your hands on either side of his head.  His eyes are already closed when you start kissing him.  You rock against him, feel him getting harder in his boxers as his hands run up and down your thighs. 

The kiss breaks for a second, just to breathe, and he sighs. 

“Good,” he says.  “You brushed your teeth.”

“You are soooo…”  You try to sound annoyed but it’s impossible.  He laughs, his eyes crinkling with mirth.  “Ughhh, the worst!” 

You roll off him as if you have any intention of denying him, but he doesn’t give you a chance to tease him.   He just follows, rolling on top of you so it’s you pinned under him, the weight of him between your open legs.   He goes right back to kissing you, taking his time, almost torturously slow while pressed so intimately against you.  He licks into your mouth, nips at your bottom lip, steals your breath and comes back for more. 

“Hyunjin.”  You are out of breath.  You grab his face with both hands, gasping against his open mouth. 

“Mm?” he replies, pecking your lips. 

A part of you thinks you could lie in bed all day doing nothing but kiss Hyunjin.  Just a small part.  The rest of you is burning up with the need for much, much more. 

“Make love to me,” you whisper.  His breath stutters.  “Please,” you say.

He nods frantically.  If you weren’t so hazy with want, it might have made you laugh.  As it is, you string your arms around his neck and pull him down for another kiss.  This one gets heated quickly, wet and sloppy and pressed messily to the corner of your mouths, your hands moving over each other, trying to find the hems of your shirts without breaking apart. 

It happens in a frenzy, but you somehow get down to just your underwear.  His boxers land on the lamp and the shirts could have flown out the window for all that you care.  He is laving kisses all over your body and you are so wound up that you get a little teary, arching under him and tugging on his hair. 

“Hyunjin, please,” you say, dragging your nails up his back.  “I need you.”

He looks up at you.  You smile and bite your lower lip.

“I need my husband,” you say.

You are pretty sure you can visibly see his brain short-circuiting.   The next second, he is fully above you, pulling your panties down your hips.  It stays hooked around one ankle but the thought of it leaves your mind quickly.   He slides his hands under your thighs and spreads you open, leaning down to kiss you as he finally eases inside you.   

You both look down at where he inside you.  It feels like your clit is jumping for attention, your whole body shaking when he gently rubs you there while sinking fully in. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, mostly to himself once he fully inside you.  He closes his eyes and breathes a little harder.  “Don’t move,” he says.  He leans down so his chest is against yours, your faces close.  “If you do, this is gonna be over really quickly.”

“Really?” you say with a giggle, pleased he is as unravelled as you. 

He just nods, his eyes still closed.  You kiss his cheek and hold the back of his neck, stroking there lightly and giving him a minute. 

“Feels good,” you say, because it does, even just like this, pressed so tightly together, him so full and hard inside you. 

He just groans, dropping his face to the crook of your neck and shoulder.  You rake your fingers through the hair at his nape when he rocks a testing thrust into you.  You have only just adjusted when those hips starting rocking with fluid determination, rolling steady and deep.  He feels almost impossibly good inside you, driving you into the mattress again and again. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, putting both arms around his neck and clinging tight.  “Hyunjin.”

He just makes noise, unintelligible sounds that make him sound crazy despite how deftly he is moving.  You feel a bit crazy yourself, blinking at him with your mouth open when he lifts his head.   He kisses you, swallowing up your gasping moans, and presses his forehead to yours.  For someone who claimed to be close, he lasts a long time at a steady pace, the subtle, corded muscles of his slender frame holding taut as he moves. 

“Touch yourself,” he says, and kisses you without waiting for an answer. 

You kiss him back, very messily at that, but you do what he said.  You lick your fingertips and slide that shaking hand between your bodies, getting yourself off just seconds before his hips get erratic and he has to pull out.  He strokes himself to completion just over you, coming on your thighs.  He manages to reserve his strength long enough to gather you in his arms and roll over.  He guides you to rest on top of him, your face in his sweaty neck and your rising-and-falling chest against his own. 

“Why haven’t we been doing that for years?” you mumble. 

He laughs, his hand flying to his face to cover his mouth while he giggles.   The ring catches your eye and you reach for that hand.   He gets quiet, watching you. 

You lace your fingers with his, looking at the ring then looking up at him. 

“We’re a little crazy if we stay like this,” you say. 

He leans in and kisses you for so long that you almost forget what you were saying.  You remember when he smiles down at you, when he squeezes your hand, when he leans in and says, “That’s okay.  I like a little crazy.” 

In agreement, you smile back. 

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut

[mellori]

Hey so was ascrolling the locked tomb tag and saw a thing.

Everybody knows the list of reasons Kiriona's a big sad gay b-word when she shows up in Nona the Ninth. We've got:

• Hey so I just woke up in the corpse of my crush who sure seemed like she reciprocated my confession of love right up until she rejected my mortal sacrifice and decided she never wanted to think about me ever again

• My dead mom doesn't love me, actually, she passionately hated me and found the experience of having me both completely repugnant and horribly inconvenient

• The one thing I thought she'd given me across the veil of death i.e. my name - that was petty revenge against the guy who killed her and has nothing to do with me

• The name she did bother to give me was a not particularly funny joke about her plan to kill me immediately after my birth

• Also she's fr dead now I don't get to confront her about/unpack any of this

• Whoops I'm dead again. Totally speedran "fail my sworn oath to protect Harrowhark" this time let's relive that particular trauma

• Back again sorta and now my body is a horrific mockery of humanity meant to protect and preserve me forever because my Dad definitely asked before he did this

• Dad gave me everything I ever told myself that I wanted so now I can never earn any of it and all of it sucks actually, thanks pops

• Also he's currently in a depression spiral because his polycule imploded with a bunch of attempted and/or successful murders

• Also he's 10,000 years old and completely incapable of relating to me in any way

• Sudden onset proximity to power and influence means I can never trust anybody genuinely wants to be my friend and/or is actually attracted to me and not just sucking up to the new crown prince and heir

• Ianthe

I've read or listened to these books at least five times each and totally missed:

• Dad sure is famous for being the only person capable of performing a ressurection and he hasn't bothered to do that to me

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #gideon nav #kiriona gaia #jod #john gauis #harrowhark nonagesimus #ianthe the first #ianthe tridentarius #cw ianthe tridentarius #harrow the ninth spoilers #gideon the ninth spoilers

[mochidoie]

room for two.

kim doyoung x reader wc - 7k genre - pure fluff, sharing a bed cliché, mutuals to lovers, mutual pining, SO MUCH TENSION BUILD UP warnings - kiss scene, sensual tension, mention of alcohol

It's Johnny Suh's birthday trip and as your childhood best friend, Johnny books a hotel room with only one bed for you and Doyoung to share. The catch: you're completely head over heels for Kim Doyoung.

“I can sleep on the floor.” Hands on his hips, Doyoung quizzically stares at the full sized bed in the center of the hotel room. Seconds pass by, feeling like hours staring at this one bed situation and trying to find a solution for the next three nights.

“Maybe we can ask if they have a spare mattress we can rent? Hotels do that right…?” If only you could be confident in your suggestions, knowing damn well that it was highly unlikely and you’ve already heard an earful of excuses as to why you’re unable to change your room last minute.

At this point, you are mentally strangling Johnny for this slip up. This is the last time you trust this man to do anything for you. Not only did he pick the middle seat for you on the airplane when you specifically asked for the window, he has now ruined your good night’s sleep by "accidentally" booking you only one bed to share with Doyoung.

Doyoung shrugs at your proposal, “it’s been awhile since I traveled. I can go down and ask if it’ll be possible. Hang tight.” He is gone before you can protest, but perhaps it’s better that he tries to negotiate with the receptionists since they wouldn’t even let you finish a sentence earlier.

Grabbing your phone, you’re quick to type an angry text to Johnny Suh about how badly he screwed up the hotel reservation and how he is getting on your last standing nerve.

Good. Maybe finally you’ll get the balls to make a move.

Plus, it was cheaper. You told me to save you some money and that’s what I did.

Scoff leaving your lips as you read the two text bubbles over and over. You can’t believe your eyes at this little weasel and in fact, you straight up cannot believe he actually thought this was a good idea.

While this means you get to share a bed with your crush, you never intended for it to be premeditated. A love that happens naturally, that is all you could ask for. Absolutely in no way did you want your friends to meddle with your love life and definitely not to put you in such an awkward situation.

The door beeps open and Doyoung walks in looking as defeated as ever. Judging from his facial expression, it was a no. You two are stuck sleeping together on this tiny bed for this entire trip.

“I really tried.” Doyoung scratches the back of his neck, quite apologetic that he couldn’t find some resolve to an issue that he didn’t even cause.

You laugh, “it wasn’t even your problem to fix anyways.” A sigh of relief follows after and Doyoung flashes you his gummy smile at the idea that pops into his head.

“You know, I don’t really mind sleeping together.” He admits, bashfully and trying to gauge your reaction to the potential thought of sharing a bed. “But obviously, if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, I completely understand too.”

“I don’t know… I’m just a bit embarrassed.” Your cheeks grow hot at the possibility of waking up next to Doyoung, how nice the fragrant of hotel body wash would smell from his skin so close.

Not to mention, the proximity of your bodies being way closer than they’ve ever been before. Just no respectable distance between the two of you underneath the sheets and completely vulnerable in your sleep.

“Of what?” The shift of the bed has you dipping toward him. “Do you snore?”

You don’t answer.

“I mean- like even if you did, it’s not a big deal and you don’t need to be embarrassed about it.” Doyoung frantically tries to make you feel better, seeing that your expressionless face leans closer to sadness rather than neutral. You two are definitely not on the level of friendship to be playful with each other yet.

So you lie just to see what he says. “I snore, I kick. I even steal blankets, Doyoung! And I think you’ll be too nice to wake me up about it or to take them off of me.”

Doyoung practically chokes on his spit at the last part of your sentence. “No, you’re right. I would be too nice to do any of that.” He seriously ponders for a second, his eyes darting around at the ground to maintain his focus on weighing the pros and cons. He really didn’t want to sleep on the floor.

“If it happens, it happens. I won’t mind either way now that I have a heads up.” He gets up to start unpacking his suitcase. “Like I said, there is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Fair warning, don’t be upset at me in the morning if you don’t get a good night’s rest. You can blame Johnny for that.” Unpacking the soft dress from your luggage, you smooth out its crinkles and hang it up in the tiny closet next to Doyoung’s jacket.

Doyoung laughs, he has actually been laughing the whole time you’ve spent with each other. It’s as if you’re some comedian and it has you wondering if you’re actually even that hilarious. “I’m pretty happy rooming with you. I’d rather be here than third wheeling with a couple still in their honeymoon phase.”

The magnitude of his words has a buzz running throughout your veins, hairs to stand up on your arms and a slight churning in your stomach. Mindlessly folding out his clothes, Doyoung has no actual clue how he is affecting you. He’s just oblivious to it all.

“Good thing I didn’t bail like everyone else.” The nervous chuckle that escapes your lips is unintentional, probably an awkward reflex to deflect how you’re dying at being in his presence alone.

Johnny’s birthday trip had been a last minute thing and only a select few were able to make it, some bailing at the very last day before. It was a weird time of the year, especially with the New Year starting not too long ago. However, this season allows for cheaper flights and accommodation since it was after the holidays.

It was initially supposed to be a group of Johnny’s close friends — you, Doyoung, Mark, Jaehyun, Yuta — in addition, his girlfriend. How the room arrangements were supposed to be was that you and his girlfriend would share an all girls room, while the guys shared one room.

That outcome could still technically be possible, but Johnny insisted on switching rooms so he can stay with his girlfriend after the others dropped and how he has already shared the experience of being roommates with Doyoung. He also knew how big of a crush you had for Doyoung, so he thought it would be more fitting to pair the lovers together.

Although, Doyoung didn’t like you back nor does he know you do. The severity of your crush is mild, just that Doyoung is the most attractive man ever with poise and an aura that oozes so sexily from him. This is the first chivalrous man in your life, meeting him through Johnny some years ago.

You and Johnny are family friends, your moms being the closest women duo on this Earth. When they’re together, they’re unstoppable. In return, the two of you are practically siblings and have spent every celebration, every holiday, every family event, every funeral together.

Doyoung is Johnny’s roommate from college, these two have been lifelong friends since then. Doyoung had actually moved to your hometown after college, finding an amazing job opportunity at the same company as Johnny. He started coming around a lot more to social events or whenever you saw Johnny. Since the first moment he offered you a ride home, you’ve been stuck on this infatuation for this incredibly charming and sweet man.

Though, you two never got extremely close despite your individual connections to Johnny. It has always felt like Doyoung is Johnny’s friend and vice versa. You also really had no reason to see Doyoung without Johnny, so there had always been a distance. You two spoke when in a group setting, just to make small talk about work, general life updates, or anything about Johnny.

On a very drunk night long ago, you and Johnny had been very well over your drinking limit and had been talking about nonsense between the two of you. Just old friends catching up, but the itch of asking about Doyoung had been bothering you all night.

“Out of curiosity, is Doyoung single?” Oh god, the alcohol has started speaking for you. Johnny raises a skeptical brow and beckons his beer bottle at you before taking a swig.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in digital marketing Kim Doyoung, cubicle 4E80.”

The boldness overtakes you, it’s not like you lose anything asking a simple question to satisfy your curiosity. “What if I am?”

Johnny laughs, rather than lightheartedly, it is a robust laugh that feels like he’s mocking you and that your statement is unbelievably ridiculous. “He’s single, painfully single too.”

There is a brief pause as your drunken state processes the loud beating of your heart in your ears. Hope settles in, a big dumb grin plasters on your warm face.

“It’s interesting. He had asked about you too.” Johnny sits back and sinks into the couch. “He asked if you had a romantic partner.”

“Me?” You are truly in disbelief that he would ever even give you a second thought.

“Yeah, you dummy. I think he meant it as you should get into a relationship though, not asking if you were single because he is interested in you.” Your heart soars, quickly depleting after hearing Johnny’s explanation. So much for hope or a chance.

“I’m not fully understanding.”

“Doyoung is weird sometimes with his thoughts. I think he was trying to say that you seem lonely? Oh, and that you seem like you have a lot of love to give.” Johnny rubs his eyes with his knuckles, feeling the alcohol induced drowsiness coming on. “Such an observant man.”

Since that night, you never tried any advancements toward him. Partly because you are afraid of him catching onto something and because it was enough for you to realize he probably isn’t interested in you romantically.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering or from your smile growing whenever Doyoung says something nice. He is a naturally friendly and genuine person, super considerate of others and very kind. Johnny says that he has never met another man with such good intentions and a big heart, while still being snarky and intelligent.

“Heading to the pool?” Doyoung asks, a fist holding his swim shorts and a plain shirt. The warm weather outside is so inviting, knowing you’re probably going to get sunburnt at the end of it but it being a year’s worth of Vitamin D. Johnny definitely knows how to travel.

“Yeah, I can’t swim so I’ll just sit by the edge and dip my feet in.” You’re rummaging through your suitcase for your bikini cover-up until your hand hits the bottom of the barrel.

Panic creeps up your neck as you’re tossing all of your clothes out of your luggage now, picking through shirts, dresses, underwear and pants to find the one item you set a reminder to pack.

It’s not there. “Everything okay?” The genuinity in Doyoung’s voice makes you feel more embarrassed for some reason. Tossing all your belongings back into your suitcase, you throw your hands up in the air out of frustration.

“I can’t find my swimsuit cover up. I guess this is what happens when you dismiss a reminder before fulfilling it.” Slightly annoyed, you’re holding the two-piece in your palms and wondering if it is worth the hassle and bashfulness to wear it. You brought it with the intent of looking hot and sexy for the trip, while also keeping your decency by having a cover up to …. well, cover up.

You excuse yourself and clench the bikini in your hand, walking into the bathroom. Fuck it, you brought it. You’re going to wear it. If it gets too much, you’ll just wrap a towel around or buy a new cover up. It shouldn’t be too big of a deal and you already know that Johnny is going to give you shit for not joining them at the pool.

You’ll suck it up. Looking in the mirror, the bottoms barely cover your ass cheeks. Barely is an overstatement, the fabric is so far up your crack that it gives you a wedgie every time you move. Nonetheless, the baby pink is such a sweet color that you’re not minding the exposure too much.

Now, the top situation is a whole mess. The strings wrap around your midsection, but your arms are too short to give yourself a secure knot. After multiple attempts at stretching and pulling, twisting your arms in funky positions, you give up and think it’s best to call in help.

Doyoung. Fuck. You take a few deep breaths and examine yourself in the mirror again, reminding yourself of every positive affirmation and Doyoung is too nice to say anything. Calming your nerves, you gently push open the door.

“Doyoung, could you do me a huge favor and tie my bikini top for me? I genuinely don’t think it’s tight enough when I do it.” You peek your head out and his footsteps come from around the corner, happy to help!

Walking in, Doyoung looks taken aback by your choice of attire. You’re examining his reaction through the mirror as he stops at the door frame, his eyes widen and drag down your body twice. He is most definitely checking you out.

He clears his throat when he meets your eyes. “Did you want me to double knot it?” He asks, softly and shyly. Stepping behind you, his hot hands guide your hair to the side of your neck to expose your back. Your heart is in your throat when Doyoung takes the string from your hands and pulls it toward him, a bit too roughly.

You lose your footing and jolt back into him, your shoulder hitting his chest. “Shit, sorry.” His breathy apology in your ear sends chills up your spine and a slight rush down below.

The tension in the air is so thick – you’re both suffocating in it. Staring at his profile in the reflection, Doyoung’s expression is none of what you’ve seen before. It’s lustful, almost, if you’re not interpreting it incorrectly. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and he is trying to look everywhere but your ass and your breast from an aerial view.

“It’s okay.” You laugh it off, but he is unwavering. “You’re stronger than you look, Doyoung.”

Your light teasing breaks the serious concentration on his face and his shy gummy smile returns, “it’s from all the times Johnny dragged me to gym with him.”

He ties the knot perfectly, making sure it’s one of those pretty bows that top off a gift box. He’s quite happy with himself that he forgets your bare ass is inches away from his clothed dick.

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, “pink is a pretty color on you.” His eyes catch yours in the reflection of the mirror and a light blush dusts his cheeks, a kind half grin on his lips.

Your heart is soaring, once again. “It’s nice on you too.” Smiling back, there is a split second that you can actually believe that Doyoung could’ve felt some connection between the two of you. “Thank you for such an impressive bow.”

His demeanor shifts back to friendly, less serious and intense. “Yeah, no problem! If you’re still looking for a coverup, I have something you can borrow.”

Walking out of the stuffy bathroom, Doyoung hums and pulls out a white button up from his bag. It’s light and flowy, just the perfect thing to wear out on a beautiful day. He helps you slip on the sleeves and it covers your backside very well. It’s even better than the initial cover up you had. Then it hits you, you’re wearing his clothes. His scent falls on your body fruitfully and Doyoung doesn’t even flinch at the sight of you in his shirt.

Nonetheless, there is no denying that his stares seem to linger longer than they usually do.

Despite multiple occasions of waiters and waitresses mistaking you and Doyoung as a couple, the first day of the trip was jam packed with good fun and no complaints. Johnny and his girlfriend love showing PDA, but keep it modest for those around. Doyoung enjoys getting his picture taken at every tourist spot, some lowkey alleyways or artsy areas that catch his eye. You just like being around your friends, in a new environment and living in the moment with them all.

The night had fallen upon you so quickly, the expression time flies when you’re having fun held true for this day. Johnny had mentioned prior that he wanted to have a romantic candlelit dinner with his girlfriend for one of the nights you were on this trip.

It didn’t hit you that he was actually being serious about that plan until you’re back in your hotel room with Doyoung, looking for a place to have dinner on your own.

“I didn’t know how much of a romantic Johnny is.” You’re blowing raspberries into the air as you scroll mindlessly on the internet for a good place to eat in this foreign area. Doyoung takes a seat on the chair at the desk, doing exactly the same as you.

“It takes the right person to get it out of him.” Doyoung mumbles, ruffling his hair out of his face cutely. The strands of his bangs disheveled and sticking up. “But he’ll do anything for the person he really likes.”

“I guess I’ve never seen that side of him.” You shrug, attention draining from the overwhelming selection of food choices in the area.

Doyoung notices your mind wandering and hears the tiny grumble of your stomach from hunger. “How about we go here? Looks like they have happy hour and a very nice aesthetic.”

He kneels down at the bed level to show you photos of the restaurant. It’s a large outside patio with decorative ambient string lights, vines of greenery hanging from the ceiling and the rustic wooden walls within the indoor portion of the restaurant.

Overall vibe of the place feels elevated, yet still trendy and modern. The food seems to be a fusion of Korean and Chinese cuisines and the prices look more than desirable.

“Half off main entree items and bottomless cocktails during happy hour?!” Sitting up, you’re grabbing Doyoung’s phone out of his hand to get a closer read on the menu. You’re in disbelief at such a good deal. “Let’s go!” You cheer, jumping up on your feet to pick an outfit for the night.

“I knew the bottomless cocktails will get you. You understand me, y/n.” Doyoung is as overjoyed as you, and you’re both happily smiling at each other without a thought about how good you make each other feel. Grabbing your flowy white romper, you change quickly in the room as Doyoung fixes up in the bathroom.

There is elegance in the white silk, yet it doesn’t make you look too overdressed or too casual. Leaning forward to the vanity, you’re clipping on some shiny earrings and the door opens behind you.

Doyoung steps out in that loose white button up you borrowed earlier today, three buttons unbuttoned from the neck to expose some of his toned chest, half tucked into his neat slacks. His hair is combed and styled back, getting a clear view of his sharp features and maturity. He looks so good, you almost start drooling.

“Oh, your zipper isn’t zipped all the way.” Doyoung breaks you out of your gawking. Without any hesitation, he walks up behind you and helps you with your zipper. This moment mirrors earlier events from this morning.

He chuckles, mostly to himself as he drags the zipper up and his eyes follow the trail of your spine to your eyes in the reflection. “How do you ever get yourself dressed when you need help getting dressed so often?”

“It’s a bit of a struggle, but I manage.” Straightening up your posture, Doyoung’s hand gently caresses your forearm. “But you definitely have made it easier for me today.” You’re still in shock as you watch Doyoung clip your bracelet around your wrist, dropping your arm back by your side ever so gently.

“I’m more than happy to be of assistance.” He clicks his tongue and this fleeting feeling of sensual tension finds itself lost again. Nonetheless, this moment is going to play like a loop of reruns in your mind the whole night.

Three and a half cocktails in, you’re both indulging in a conversation that makes no sense to either one of you but it’s a harmonious time. Your heart is pounding in your ears from the alcohol running circles in your bloodstream, but the moderately loud ambiance of the restaurant creates a good buzz. Doyoung is a cute shade of red before you, every sip making him dangerously close to losing his senses.

“I have to say, this has been the most fun I’ve had in awhile.” The bottom of his glass hits the table and finds its way perfectly in the right spot everytime. The look of content fills his red cheeks and you’re seriously so intoxicated that your mouth has a mind of its own.

“What do you mean?” You know what he means, but the alcohol is asking for more context and reassurance. Has it been fun because of the copious amounts of drinks you two have had after only sharing an appetizer? Or is it genuinely because of you?

“You’re so easy to talk to. I feel like I can talk to you for hours.” His gummy smile twinkles in the dim atmosphere, all because the thought of talking to you for hours makes him full of glee and happiness. He isn’t one to hold back a genuine compliment, he wants you to know how he feels about you as a person. Intimacy didn’t exist between the two of you before tonight, but that changes with every exchange of glances and sweet words.

The call of his name gets his attention, eyebrows raised and eyes as alert as they can be, “you’re one of the only people in this world that I could listen to for hours.” There is no stopping you at this point. Another compliment and you’re bound to confess a part of your heart tonight to him.

Doyoung nods, understanding every bit of where you’re coming from. He gets you like how you get him. “There has been a question that’s been on my mind since I met you.”

Your breath hitches at the actuality that he thought enough about you to have such curiosity. You lived in his brain when you truly believed he would never give you a second look. “Why have you and Johnny never dated?”

The laugh that creeps up your throat almost slips out from hearing the question, but Doyoung is more than serious with this revealed secret question he had been holding onto for so long. Clearing your throat, your finger lightly traces the rim of your glass as you really think hard about every reason you are not attracted to Johnny romantically.

“I’ve known him practically since birth, so he has always been a good brother to me.” It really is that simple, shrugging to show that it's nothing too deep. “While we meet people in a certain moment of their lives, that version of them freezes as the person you will always know them to be to you.”

Doyoung watches your finger dance around. “To me, Johnny will always be a booger-eating cry baby. The love I have for him is purely familial, as if he was the reason for every scraped elbow growing up or for my fear of abandonment when he left me in the grocery store aisles.”

He hums lovingly at your explanation. “I’m guessing you get that question pretty often.”

“Besides his current girlfriend, you’re the only other person who has asked.” Your chuckle makes Doyoung slightly embarrassed, can he be that obvious? It’s fine, you both won’t remember this night fully.

“A follow up question then,” Doyoung leans forward with his elbows digging into the white table cloth, “who am I to you?”

Your eyes widen, those words are enough to knock some sense back into you. Your heart continues to pound in your ears, but also drumming against your chest quickly with every possible way you could answer him.

His eyes stare down at you like prey, just waiting patiently and silently for you to speak. Doyoung’s demeanor may seem confident on the outside, but he is dying to know on the inside. “You’re Johnny’s best friend.”

He lets the disappointment subside, the whiplash in your face is enough indication that you weren’t prepared for such a question. Doyoung relaxes back in his chair, dropping his gaze and nodding at your simple answer. It doesn’t satisfy him, but he can’t be someone to ask for much in this situation.

“Who am I to you?”

Doyoung rolls his lips, debating if his answer will only produce fruitful reactions or you would be turned off. The alcohol has too much control over his choice of words, truthfully, the haziness surrounds his vision. “You’re y/n, Johnny’s cute friend who I can’t seem to get out of my mind.”

Something about Doyoung paying for dinner and his chivalrousness throughout the night oozes a romantic side of him you’re not used to. It felt as if you and Doyoung went on a real date together, even though it was curated off of unforeseen circumstances. Romance isn’t dead, as some may oppose. You could hope that Doyoung agreed.

“Doyoung, the shower is free for you now.” A towel wraps your wet hair up into a cone on your head, earning a small smile from Doyoung. He gathers his things and makes his way into the already steaming bathroom, your essence filling the tiny room.

You’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone, hearing the shower turn on and suddenly turn off. Then it hits you, you have walked out empty handed and your discarded clothes are still hanging on the glass door. You’re both quick at the door, but Doyoung beats you to open it from the other side.

His head pops out, the door slightly ajar. He is naked from the top down to the towel around his waist. Droplets dribble down his tone chest and stomach and your throat goes dry from the sight of him. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Doyoung says gently, holding out your dirty clothes in an orderly pile and your underwear visibly in the mix.

“Thank you.” Finding your words, you quickly take your belongings.

“I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose, y/n.” Doyoung clicks his tongue, a playful eyebrow raise and a corner of his lip turning upward into a smirk.

“No! I swear, you just make me so comfortable.. I’m treating this as if it’s my own space.” You’re coming to your senses, shutting the door on him so he couldn’t respond to such a ridiculous excuse. Your back hits the bathroom door, sliding down and huddling your laundry.

“I feel comfortable around you too.” You hear Doyoung say through the door. Though you couldn’t see him, a smile lies on his lips as he continues his nightly routine.

Some time passes, Doyoung enters the sheets before you and the anxiousness settles in your system when you know you have to eventually join him. He feels the shift in atmosphere, peering over at your hunched figure at the end of the bed.

“I can still sleep on the floor.” Pushing the blankets off of his body, he starts to get up. You’re fast to push his chest down, landing softly over him. You’re both unmoving in this position, out of pure shock of the sudden proximity.

Your eyes meet briefly, but you look away from his wide bunny eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t want you on the floor.”

His finger turns your chin to face him. The annoying pounding of your heart is loud in your eyes, aching from his hot touch and how you could seriously drown in his beautiful gaze. You’re wondering if he could hear it.

“Then, where do you want me?” Doyoung swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing at the sight of your lips before him and he is three seconds from diving into you. Completely stunned, obviously, taken aback by his bold question and the tension in the room seems to find its way back.

You want him in your arms. You want him suffocating you with his warm embrace. You want him where you are. Will he allow that? “The bed is fine.” The firmness in your voice assures Doyoung that you don’t feel unwavering. He would hate for you to feel the slightest uneasy. With a roll off of him, you’re planted on your back on the other side of the bed. Staring at the ceiling, you’re both processing the elephant that has overstayed its visit this entire day.

He has to have felt something. There is no way he could be that oblivious, you know he isn’t.

Pulling the sheets over your body, your back is facing Doyoung as he tries to find a good position to doze off in. Heat radiates off of your bodies underneath the blankets and you’re partly grateful to be sharing the bed with such a gorgeous man. Peering over your shoulder, Doyoung swipes on his phone aimlessly looking through the photos he took today.

He feels your curious eyes on him, “want to help me choose which ones I should keep?” Doyoung scoots a bit closer toward the middle of the bed, closing the distance between the two of you slowly.

As this man speedily scrolls through photo after photo, you’re too much in awe at how a simple photo could capture how handsome he is. You’re trying to be helpful, without saying much, but still trying. He deletes a random one at his distaste in a blink that you could barely keep up.

“Do, you look great in all of these.” You sigh, moving even closer to him as his shoulder hits your arm. You’re swiping a few photos back to one that caught your eye – gummy smile, hand covering his eyes, low light underneath the stars, one hand in his pants pocket. He is the perfect wallpaper material. “I like this one the best.”

“You can’t see my face in that one.” He laughs, “what do you like about it?”

“You look good.” It’s all you could say, anything more will tip the boat.

He instantly favorites it, moving on before he can dig anymore about your vague explanations. Swipe after swipe, a new angle, a new pose, a new facial expression but all in the same area. You’re starting to get sleepy at the endless miniscule details, but your eyes shoot open when he swipes upon a photo of you and then, quickly dismissing it as if you weren’t supposed to see.

“Was that me?” You ask, practically grabbing his phone. Doyoung sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, letting you scroll through his phone to find more pretty candids he took of you without you knowing. Progressively, you begin to see yourself in his perspective or maybe, he really is just that great at taking photos.

Nonetheless, you’ve never seen yourself like this. Hair in action, caught in the sweep of the wind. Your smile is as bright as the moon, very natural and genuine happiness painting your face at something stupid that Johnny probably said. There you are among your own laughter and excitement, Doyoung captured such beautiful parts of you that you didn’t know existed.

Doyoung breaks the silence between the both of you, slowly reading your facial reactions at the pictures. He slowly inches closer, his head slightly above your shoulder.

“I can’t help, but notice how happy you look when you laugh. Your smile is contagious.” He whispers, swiping a few more photos to land on one that you wouldn’t have even recognized was yourself.

Your right hand brushes your hair out of your face and you’re smiling from ear to ear. It had to be a moment at dinner with him. Doyoung knew the reason behind that gorgeous smile was him. “So pretty.” His voice leaves a chill down your spine and goosebumps to rise on your arms.

He perks up at the sound of his name, “I’m genuinely confused.” You say, setting his phone down and looking at him with eyebrows furrowed together. “I know you’re a nice person so it could be just your mannerisms or the intimacy of sharing a bed, but I don’t want to misunderstand your intentions.”

“Oh,” Doyoung shifts away from you, the bed dipping at the movement as he scoots back over to his side of the bed. “I’m sorry if I came off as overbearing.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” You’re fighting with yourself, trying to decide if you should just confess. What is the worst that could happen? You’re stuck together in the same room for two more nights and he will know that you’re insanely attracted to him.

But there feels like a chance. You could be incredibly delusional and misreading everything. You sigh, unsure how to proceed with this conversation. Nonetheless, Doyoung can see how heavy your heart seems.

“Is there something I did?”

“No, forget it.” You’re pulling the blankets back over your body again, turning off the lamp on your side of the bed and staring up at the ceiling. Doyoung follows your lead, doing the same and the room falling into complete darkness. Your shaky breaths being the only audible noise in the silent space.

There is so much adrenaline in your throat, coursing through your veins at how close you are to just telling him.

“Just know that you can tell me anything. I know we’re not the closest of friends, but I feel like that’s sometimes better.” Doyoung turns to face you and you’re staring at him in the low light, making out the most gentle and comforting smile that puts your heart at ease.

“Doyoung, I like you and it’s not just because you’re a nice person, I have romantic feelings for you. I hope you can understand.” You’re all choked up that it makes Doyoung’s heart ache. Confessions are way harder than they need to be, but you did it. That's all that matters.

You didn’t need reciprocal feelings from him, you just needed him to be okay with it. He is silent for a while, his gaze dropping and wandering the sheets. He, too, is conflicted about how he should proceed.

Laying on your side, you face him fully. Doyoung peers up at the shift and his eyes are intensely gazing at you. Your heart is back thumping at your chest and drumming in your ears.

Before you know it, Doyoung is leaning forward and his lips land on yours softly. Your eyes remain open and in shock, but you kiss him back fruitfully. This long awaited kiss has finally fallen upon you, something you’ve wondered days on end how his lips taste.

Doyoung kisses your lips tenderly, almost as if he has waited for this moment too. Gliding effortlessly along yours and a sweet heat that lingers deliciously, he kisses like a shy romantic. You’re both too hesitant to touch one another, afraid of asking for too much. Your arms are stuck to your chest, hands in fists and tensions rising.

His knuckle lightly brushes your cheek, and as you close your eyes and settle into the kiss, you find yourself deepening it and free falling right into him. Desperation? It is the right amount to indicate how much you wanted it, how much you have craved him.

You are kissing Kim Doyoung. That thought alone could leave you grinning ear to ear for days. He doesn’t even know how much it affects you.

When you both pull away, Doyoung’s lips are pretty and plump. It compels you to give him a last quick peck and he chuckles cutely. His eyelids fall over his eyes ever so slowly, his long eyelashes dancing on his cheekbones and he looks surreal.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you this entire day.” Your heart would stop right there. His raspy confession has your whole face turning hot, “ever since I saw you in your pink swimsuit. You don’t know what you do to me.” He buries his shyness into his pillow. Seeing Doyoung like this is new, it’s so adorable that you don’t know how to react besides giggling at how shy he is. He usually holds himself up pretty well, getting embarrassed here and there by Johnny’s silly actions or boldness. Nonetheless, here he is, barely able to look you in the eyes and a pillow shielding his pretty face.

“Have you always felt this way?” Your fingers touch your lips, still in disbelief at the scandalous kiss you two just shared and coming to the realization that Doyoung could have felt this way this whole time.

“Since the moment I met you, you have always been endearing to me. But since you are practically Johnny’s non-biological sister, you felt out of reach.” Doyoung sighs, “I didn’t want to cross any boundaries or make it seem like I was some creep trying to hit on you through Johnny. I respect you a lot, y/n, and Johnny does too.”

His voice grows soft and his words are still so kind. Doyoung is effortlessly sweet and chivalrous. At times, you question how he and Johnny managed to be the best of friends. Doyoung is so outwardly soft and feminine, emotionally attuned and safe. Johnny is all those things as well, but not as clear as Doyoung.

Growing up, Johnny always felt like he needed someone like Doyoung to reassure him that boys can cry too. Although you never imagined that you would stumble upon a dream man like Doyoung, he lays next to you in bed with endless thoughts of you running at full speed in his head.

“I’m speechless.”

“I can tell.” Doyoung smiles, “I’ve kept my distance enough to not give you any impression of interest.” He coyly puts his arms behind his back and peers over at how stunned you look blinking back at him. “Let’s sleep, I want you to rest up for the day tomorrow.”

“I feel like this is going to keep me awake.” You slide down to lay firmly on your side to face him.

“Will sleeping in my arms help?” Doyoung extends his arm out for you to snuggle up next to him. You’re practically losing your mind at how forward he is, it’s as if five minutes early he wasn’t all shy about confessing to you. “Sorry, too much.”

Nonetheless, you dive right into him like it's all you’ve ever known. Your face hits his chest and the scent of his laundry detergent immediately hits your nose. His warm arm wraps around your upper back as he presses you closer. Planting a delicate kiss on your forehead, Doyoung rubs soothing circles on your back to help you sleep.

So if this was a dream, you hope to never wake from it.

The stuffy morning has you and Doyoung tiptoeing around one another. When you had woken up, Doyoung was already in the bathroom to freshen up and prepare for the day. You both had exchanged small good mornings before you had also disappeared into the bathroom. Now, you two silently get ready in your own corners of the room and nothing but the sound of clattering fills the air.

Did he have a sudden change in heart? You grow more confused with this man as it turns from day to night. Doyoung looks over his shoulder at you, noticing the eerie silence in the room.

“How did you sleep?” He asks, clearing his throat awkwardly. Good thing you two didn’t fuck or anything, you feel like that would make this moment even more awkward than it already is.

“Fine. You?”

Doyoung laughs, mostly to himself, as he remembers the position you two woke up in. “Seems like someone couldn’t let go of me last night, so I would say it was pretty good.”

Your embarrassment doesn’t shy away from being evident. Slowly, you turn to face him. Doyoung leans against the wall a relaxed fit, hair nicely falling above his eyebrows and a grin so taunting, you wouldn’t have believed it was his. He notices your lip quiver before you begin to speak and he reassures you once more.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.” Doyoung makes his way toward you, his delicate hands holding your forearms quite lovingly and his kind smile tries to make you feel better. You both gaze into each other’s eyes like they’re all you’ve ever known in life.

This is so romantic. You’ve forgotten that you two aren’t dating.

“Would it be too much of an ask for us to start seeing each other?” He shakes his head without hesitation. Kissing your forehead, he can literally see how beautifully you admire him.

“I want to be with you.” He draws you in tighter. “I want to be yours.” Doyoung whispers. A chill runs down your spine. “However, you have to let me take you out on a proper date before we settle things. One where I ask you out, pick you up and bring you your favorite flowers.”

“I’d really love that.” It is no joke how incredibly immersed in this man you are. Never in your dreams would you think that a moment like this would exist between the two of you.

All it took was sharing a bed. If only Johnny had thought of that sooner.

#neowritingsnet #nct scenarios #doyoung scenarios #doyoung scenario #nct 127 #nct doyoung #nct fluff #kim doyoung #kim doyoung scenario #nct scenario #nct x reader #doyoung imagines #doyoung x reader

[monzabee]

déjà vu (beyoncé’s version) – ln4

masterlist

Summary: The one where a bad prank leads to you and Lando exploring an option you thought was not an option.

Pairing: lando norris x bestfriend!reader (nicknamed Tink)

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut elements but no actual smut, cursing, pining and of course fluff!

Request: “Haiiii. I love your style of writing Lando and feel like you would 100% do a request justice to scratch the itch in my brain Reader and him have been childhood friends, mutual pining with some sexual tension but never crossed lines other than a new years kiss with friends etc. So reader ends up training and qualifying as a physio/masseuse and travelling with Lando bc fun besties on tour together yay! Thinking she ends up getting to know his body really well from that and has to massage some intimate area- tension builds blah. They have a cosy night in together after front row quali to prep for the race, face masks cuddles bc really physically comfortable together and then some confessions happen. After this going out to celebrate home race (not jinxing tomorrow!!) and reader ends up dancing with another driver, Lando gets jealous fully opens up and they go home together (as much detail on that as you feel comfortable with) No probs if it’s something you don’t feel inspired to write! Pls continue writing whatever you love because I love to read your stuff!!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! am i back after a literal month of no fics?? i hope so!! thank you so much for being patient with me you guysi i appreciate it, and i just want to say that this was the first time i wrote for lando (and you can definitely thank @userlando and her lando brainrot posts for that) and i’m kind of obsessed!! so as always, thank you to the anon for the request, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Being friends with Lando has resulted in both of you getting in trouble way too many times, you realise. The most recent case? The both of you ended up in a supply closet nearby the Aston Martin hospitality, hiding from a very, very, angry Spaniard. The close proximity and the limited space wouldn’t have been a big issue, for if Lando wasn’t looking at you with that look in his eyes. Under normal other circumstances, your reaction would’ve been much more different to the one you give him now – which is a glare that shows him you are not happy with the situation the both of you are in.

You’re about to scold him, but the words on your tongue quickly die as he presses his index finger to your lips. “I know you’re about to yell at me,” he whispers as he tries to keep his voice as low as possible, “but I really don’t want to be found right now.”

“Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before, you bloody idiot.” You hiss while slapping his hand away, which wins you a mock pout in return. “Why would you play that song every time he walked into a room?”

“It’s his name,” Lando tries to reason, “I thought he’d be used to it by now!”

Here’s the sitch. Lando, being the absolute prankster he is, decided to play ‘Fernando’ every time his former teammate entered into a room that morning – which resulted in the Spaniard becoming more and more annoyed with him until he snapped and Lando had to find himself a hiding place. How did you get roped into this, you may ask? You have absolutely no idea, other than your best friend dragging you into a nearby storage closet as you were walking back to the McLaren hospitality after meeting up with some of your friends for a cup of coffee. And now? The two of you are stuck inside a closet which is obviously too small for you both, and Lando has to bend his neck in an uncomfortable position.

“Lando,” you whisper in an attempt to keep your voice down, “don’t bend your head like that, you’ll strain something.”

“Well it’s not exactly comfortable, Tink.” He grimaces as one of the shelves hit his neck, which causes him to let out a low groan.

Ignoring the nickname he’s used for years, you motion him to move lower. “Just– let me see, okay?”

He begrudgingly nods as he bends his body towards you to accommodate you. You let your fingers run across his skin to find any knots along his shoulders. He lets out another low groan, but this one is more appreciative as you work some of the knots your fingers end up finding.

You watch as Lando’s expression changes from painful discomfort to relief as your fingers work their magic on his tense muscles. For a brief moment, it's just the two of you in the confined space, and you almost get lost in the comfortable silence. “Feels good,” Lando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I swear you have magic hands or something.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I just know your body, Lando.” After realising the words that come out of your mouth, your face flushes with embarrassment at the unintended implication of your words and you scramble to add, “Not like that, I didn’t mean–”

He smirks playfully, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, really? My body, huh? You think about my body often?” he teases, his hands squeezing your waist – and being lost in the moment, you don’t even know how they ended up there.

Your cheeks grow even hotter, and you feel your heart rate quicken. “No, that's not what I meant,” you stammer, trying to regain your composure, “and you know it’s basically my job to think about, you know?”

The mischievous glint in his eyes shine brightly as he decides to play dumb, “To think about what, baby?”

Your heart skips a beat at his teasing, and you can't help but let out a small laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Don't be ridiculous, Lando,” you retort, trying to act cool despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I meant knowing your body like an expert, considering the fact that you pull a muscle every time you decide to do a physical activity.”

He chuckles, and his hands, still resting on your waist, give you a playful squeeze. "Sure, sure, Tink," he replies, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "But let's be honest, it's not just my body you know well. You practically read my mind too."

You roll your eyes, trying to playfully push him away. "Oh, please. You're not that hard to figure out."

Lando leans in a little closer, his grin still evident. "Is that so? Then tell me, oh expert of Lando Norris, what am I thinking right now?"

You raise an eyebrow, not falling for his trick. "You're probably thinking that you got away with the Fernando prank and now you owe me big time, your brain is empty most of the time."

He smirks, impressed by your response. "You're good, Tink. But you're right, I do owe you one. What can I do to make it up to you?"

You pause, the closeness between the two of you making it difficult to think clearly. "Well, for starters, maybe you can stop dragging me into your pranks and getting us into trouble," you suggest with a hint of a smile. “And I don’t know, maybe take pole for me, you know?”

As the playful banter continues, you both seem to forget about the predicament you're in. The confined space of the closet no longer feels suffocating; instead, it becomes a haven for shared laughter and camaraderie.

Just as the two of you are lost in the moment, the closet door suddenly opens, and you both freeze. The angry Spaniard stands before you once again, but this time, his expression has softened, seeing you and Lando in a surprisingly intimate moment.

"Am I interrupting something?" Fernando asks, his tone amused.

Your face turns beet red, and Lando lets out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, hey there. Just having a chat, you know."

But Fernando raises an eyebrow, still looking amused. "In a supply closet?"

You and Lando exchange a sheepish glance, realizing how the situation must appear to Fernando. "Well, we kind of got caught up in the moment," you admit, hoping he doesn't read too much into it.

Fernando chuckles, and there's a warm glint in his eyes. "I see. Well, it's none of my business, but you might want to find a less cramped place to chat next time."

You nod in agreement, grateful that Fernando seems to be taking the situation lightly. "You're right. We'll keep that in mind," you say, trying to sound casual.

Lando adds with a grin, "Yeah, and we promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on." But he’s quick to correct himself when you give him a glare, “I promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on."

Fernando chuckles again, seemingly amused by the whole ordeal. "I'd appreciate that. Anyway, carry on. I won't keep you two any longer."

As he walks away, you let out a sigh of relief. "That could have been a lot worse," you say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"Yeah, we got lucky," Lando agrees, giving you a playful nudge. "But you know what they say, Tink, nothing like a bit of closet bonding to strengthen a friendship."

You roll your eyes at his playful banter, but there's a fondness in your heart as you look at him. "You're incorrigible, Lando Norris."

He grins, "You love it, though."

You can't help but smile, knowing he's right. “Come on,” you say, “you have a quali to attend.”

The tension from the qualifying session had left you on edge, your heart pounding with every lap, and your nerves had gotten the better of you, leading to some slightly bloody nails from biting them in anticipation. But all that anxiety melts away when you see Lando step out of the car, grinning ear to ear. As soon as he catches sight of you, he opens his arms, and you don't hesitate for a moment. You rush into his embrace, holding him tightly, relieved that he's safe and thrilled that he performed so well.

"You were amazing out there!" you exclaim, unable to hide the pride in your voice. "P2, front row! That's incredible!"

Lando chuckles, his arms still wrapped around you. "I don’t know how we did it!"

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, your heart swelling with admiration for your best friend. "I never doubted you for a second," you say earnestly.

His grin widens, and he playfully ruffles your hair. "I know you didn't. Seems like you’re my lucky charm, hm?"

“You know what that means?” You ask him return, a playful smirk on your lips.

His answer comes quickly, and his look seems to reflect your own, “Pizza and a movie?”

Your reply is just as enthusiastic as you throw your arms around him and give him a big smile, “Pizza and a movie, baby!”

Eventually, you manage to escape the whole hustle and bustle of the circuit, and you and Lando find yourselves back at the hotel, with you on the couch trying to find something to watch and him deciding to take a quick shower after the stressful day of qualifying. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. You smile to yourself, glad that Lando is taking some time to relax after such a demanding day. As you wait for him to finish, you finally settle on a movie to watch with a small grin on your face, clearly pleased with your choice. Just as you're about to start the movie, you hear the bathroom door open, and Lando emerges, looking refreshed and relaxed.

After he gets the pizza box out of the oven, he walks over to the couch, wearing sweatpants instead of his jeans, and flops down next to you. "That shower was exactly what I needed," he says with a contented sigh.

You chuckle, glancing at him, while also trying to actively ignore the fact that he’s wearing grey sweatpants. "Feeling better now?"

"Definitely," he replies, flashing you a grin. "So, what are we watching?"

“Mamma Mia,” you scoff, “of course.”

“A classic, nice.” He nods in understanding, extending the pizza box to you for you to take a slice. “It’s still warm.”

You wordlessly grab a slice and pass the box back to Lando as you settle in your seat, ready to focus on your choice of movie. The comfortable silence between you feels familiar, like the unspoken language of best friends who have shared countless memories and moments together. Throughout the movie, you can't help but notice Lando's occasional stolen glances at you, and you find yourself stealing glances right back. He even winks at you with that boyish grin every time he catches you staring at him, making you giggle as you quickly turn your attention back onto the screen. You somehow find yourself sprawled out on the couch once the pizza box is emptied and discarded, and it’s harder for you to keep your eyes open. With your head on Lando’s lap, he plays with the ends of your hair as the two of you try to keep your attention on the screen.

‘Try,’ being the operative word here, since Lando realises that you end up falling asleep in the middle of the movie where Sophie realises all of the men she invited to the wedding thinks they are her father, and though he finds some kind of comfort in the chaos knowing that it will get resolved eventually, he can’t help but take his role as a makeshift human pillow very seriously. As the movie continues playing, Lando tries his best not to disturb your peaceful slumber. He leans back against the couch, adjusting his position so you can rest more comfortably on his lap while also trying so hard to not wake you up. He can't help but smile to himself as he plays with your hair, finding himself mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

With a sudden realisation that maybe it is not the best thing to stare at you while you sleep, he tries to occupy himself with something on his phone while also trying to keep still so that you don’t wake up. However, the text thread between him and Max quickly makes him realise that the thoughts that he tries so hard to keep away. He never gave himself the opportunity to think about the two of you that way, he supposes. Not that it would be weird or anything, but in his mind, he’d seen, and been in, far too many relationships form and de-form to know that not all is permanent when it comes to relationships and it’s also not something he’d want to risk when it comes to you. Although the unwarranted thoughts of the two of you together, as a couple, have been haunting him for the past couple of months, he did a great job of sending them away and finding something else to focus on – up until now, that is. And now that he’s pictured the two of you together, holding hands in the streets of Monaco, going on dates, doing more than what ‘best friends’ are meant to do, it doesn’t seem that daunting to give it a try.   

He carefully shifts you onto his lap with gentle movements, surprised that you don’t wake up and also trying to figure out the best way to wake you up without startling you. As he gently brushes your cheek, your eyes flutter open, and you look up at him with a sleepy smile. "Did I miss the end of the movie?" you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Lando chuckles, shaking his head, but not stilling the movement of his hand. “No, we just finished. You fell asleep somewhere in the middle.”

You sit up slightly, rubbing your eyes with a small yawn. “I'm sorry,” you say, sounding apologetic.

“No need to apologise,” he assures you, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You looked adorable sleeping, Tink.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, and you give him a playful nudge. “Stop teasing me.”

Lando grins, but there's a tenderness in his eyes as he looks at you. “I'm not teasing, Tink. I mean it. You always look adorable, no matter what you're doing.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his sincere compliment, and you can't help but smile back. “Thank you,” you say softly, feeling a warmth spreading through you, “I, uh, I should probably go to my room and let you sleep.”

“What? No, you don’t have to go.” Lando’s eyebrows furrow on their own, “I mean, you could stay over, it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

You give him an unsure look, “I don’t know, Lando, you have a race tomorrow.”

“And we’ll sleep,” he shrugs, “the name ‘sleepover’ implies that, baby.”

You end up giving in and nodding, albeit a little hesitant. "Alright, I'll stay over."

Lando's face lights up with a bright smile, clearly pleased with your decision. "Great! It'll be fun, just like old times."

You chuckle softly. "Yeah, just like old times."

And you’d expect it to feel like the old times, because the two of you said it would be like the old times – the times where you’d spend the night over at his house because his mother picked you up and you didn’t want the playtime to be over. But instead of the excitement of a prolonged play date with your best friend, you find yourself anxious in the hotel bathroom over the fact that it’s him out there, and there is no way that he is not aware of the way you feel about him. You take a moment to compose yourself, splashing some cold water on your face to calm your nerves. This situation is new territory for both of you, and you don't want anything to ruin the friendship the two of you have. When you eventually make your way out of the bathroom, you desperately want to go back in, feeling undoubtedly exposed under Lando’s burning gaze.

“What?” You ask, your voice coming off weaker than you hoped, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

It takes a minute for him to answer you, mainly because of the fact that poor Lando is having a brain malfunction at the sight of you in his shirt – which he gave it to you because it was the only logical option for sleepwear, you know? Suddenly regretting his possessive streak, he attempts to clear his throat, “Nothing, you look good in my clothes.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you try not to let yourself become reduced to a blubbering mess, “Oh, well thank you. It’s yours,” after a brief moment of realisation you quickly add, “but you already knew that.”

“Tink,” he calls out, snapping you out of whatever embarrassed state you’re in, and your eyes quickly snap to his. “Come here,” he pleads as he extends one of his towards you, he’s quick to draw you into his arms – and just like that, you find yourself straddling your best friend.

“This is crazy,” you whisper as Lando grabs you by the waist to still your movements as you try to find a comfortable position while not realising just how uncomfortable it becomes for him.

“It doesn’t have to be,” his whisper is just as soft as yours as he looks up to you, “we don’t have to make it weird.”

A compromise, you’ll take it. “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” As much as you hate it when he replies to your questions with his own, you nod your head with a sheepish look on your face, though it doesn’t satisfy Lando as a valid answer. “I need you to say it, baby.”

You answer comes of in an instant. “I do, please.”

“Such good manners,” he mumbles while giving you that boyish grin you love oh so much. When he catches biting the corner of your lip, you’re broken out of your daydream by his thumb pulling your lip free. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” his thumb caresses the side of your lip, “that’s my job, anyway.”

Your cheeks flush at his playful comment, and you can't help but smile at his words. "Your job, huh?" you tease, feeling the tension in the air starting to dissipate.

Lando chuckles, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your waist. "Among other things," he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you give yourself the opportunity to overthink, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Lando’s lips – it’s only a peck, a hesitant one at that, but not completely uncharted territory when you think about it. The two of you have shared kisses before, at Christmas or New Year’s at midnight, but somehow this simple peck feels different than any of those other occasions. Lando doesn’t rush you. He’s a patient man after all, and he knows that the feelings he has for you are reciprocated by the feelings you have for him. So when you look him with widened eyes, he gives you a soft smile and it does wonders to calm your nerves. It doesn’t take you long to press your lips against his once again, but this time the kiss is deeper, more passionate, and filled with the unspoken words that have lingered between you for too long.

It starts off with another peck, but this time you take the initiative to deepen the kiss, and the appreciative groan that leaves Lando’s lips makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. His hands move from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, while yours tangle in his hair, revelling in the softness of his curls – and the fact that all of this feels almost familiar in some kind of a way. He’s not shy as he lets his tongue explore your mouth, in fact, he encourages you to do the same. It’s a messy kiss filled with colliding tongues and mixed breaths, and the hands that were on your waist one moment are now on your hips, encouraging their slow movement against his groin. It’s not a subtle build-up for any of you, either. It a matter of seconds, you find yourself dry-humping your childhood best friend in his hotel room, and in a couple more, both of you are whimpering into the kiss.

You’re both out of breath and breathing deeply as you rest your forehead against Lando’s. Thankfully, his hands continue to guide your hips as their movement get more and more erratic, and you him groan out, “Slow down, baby.”

You let out an objective whimper in return, whispering out a weak, “No.”

“No?” Lando repeats, his breath hitting your exposed neck in a light chuckle, “Do you want to come?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, letting your hands grab handfuls of his hair, “but you can’t fuck me.”

The whine that comes from your lips can only be described as bratty when Lando forces your hips to cease their movements, raising an eyebrow at you as he grumbles, “Excuse me?”

“You can’t fuck me, Lando.” You mumble, trying to move your hips again, but his hold is too powerful against your attempts. “At least not tonight.”

“And why is that, Tink?” He takes in your wide eyes and shuddering breath in, thinking he’d done something wrong, something you didn’t like. “You want to come, no?” He thinks at that moment, as you give him a nod with that dreamy and almost innocent look on your face, he could die and he’d be happy with where his life has led him, but he gives you a confused look, “Then what is the problem?”

“Um, you have a race tomorrow,” you explain as your fingers gently slide down to meet at the nape of his neck, “I don’t want to jinx anything.”

As a respond to your words, Lando gives you a look of disbelief, “You don’t want to jinx me having a good race,” he mumbles.

You give him another nod, “Are you mad at me?”

 “Am I mad at you?” Lando repeats the question, and he flips the two of you over in a smooth motion so that you're lying on the bed with him hovering above you, his eyes locked onto yours. “Answer the question for me, will you?”

You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart racing as you meet his intense gaze. “No,” you reply softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “Why would you be mad at me?”

Lando's lips curve into a playful smile as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours, “Good girl.” As he moves down your body, you let out a protesting sound, but he quickly shushes you as he positions himself between your legs. “I’m going to make you come, and you’re not talking to Micheal Italiano ever again.” He taps the side of your hips to signal you to raise them up as he carefully takes off your underwear and then murmurs to himself, “Pretty girl, too.”

With a blush which is quickly spreading onto your cheeks and neck, you raise yourself onto your elbows as you watch him give you the do-over. “Lando,” you plead.

“Oh baby, you're wet,” he teases, “don’t worry, though, I’ll help you with that.” He also gives you a look while grabbing both of your thighs, “And the shirt fucking stays on.”

After the events of the previous night with Lando working wonders between your legs for the remainder of the night, he honestly didn’t expect to start the morning with you returning the favour. Alas there you were, between his legs, with sleepy eyes and an innocent smile as if you hadn’t just given him the best blowjob of his life. And as the two of you make your way along the paddock, he wishes he was back in his hotel room with you in his arms. You try your best to distract him from overthinking everything and costing himself the race, and Lando is aware of what you’re trying to do – though that doesn’t mean you succeed completely.

You can tell by the small frown of eyebrows that he is lost inside his head, probably double guessing every aspect of the strategy his team debriefed him about this morning. With a deep inhale, you give his hand a small squeeze, halting your movements to stop him alongside you. “Hey,” you call out gently, “you’re going to be amazing out there, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know, it’s just the pressure is getting to me.” You watch him sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to regroup his thoughts, “I’ll be fine before I go in the car, I promise.”

You nod, giving him an encouraging smile, “I know you will. After all, you feel the–”

“Need for speed.” He completes the sentence without thinking, which makes the two of share a short laughter. “Thanks, Tink.”

“You’re welcome,” lifting yourself up on your tiptoes, you give him a soft peck on his lips, “I’ll watch the race with your dad, okay?” You chuckle at his reaction when he lets out a prolonged groan, “What?”

“He’s going to make fun of us, big time.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Go,” you say in between laughter, “don’t be late and for the love of God, be careful!”

Lando chuckles at your playful warning, giving you a mock salute. “Yes, ma'am!”

It doesn’t take long for you to find Adam, who gives you a knowing look, in the sea of spectators in the McLaren garage. And as the race begins, you and Adam stand side by side, your eyes fixed on the track where the race is unfolding. The first four laps as the Lando leads the race makes your heart beat so hard, you can practically feel the excitement coursing through your veins. Each turn and straightaway that Lando navigates flawlessly adds to the anticipation building in the air. Even when he returns to his original position, you’re on the edge, praying to whatever deity up there for him to finish this race without and incident. You’ve told him million times before that you don’t get F1 at all, you’ve always thought the adrenaline linked with the sport to be a negative feeling – too heavy, too much and definitely not something you want to feel every weekend. But in the moment that Lando passes the finishing line P2, you realise why people are so obsessed with this sport. Because when Lando crosses the finish line, you find yourself cheering as loudly as anyone else. The rush of emotions, once alien to you, now feels like a shared celebration of human achievement and dedication.

Lando is all smiles when he finally finds his way back to you, and he’s giving you a kiss the moment he has you back in his arms; celebrating with the team in the paddock was a whirlwind of emotions. As he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, his big smile is infectious.

So you’re honestly confused when he starts dragging you through the hallways of the club you went to for his celebrations with the rest of the team. The beat of the music playing back in the dancefloor echoes in the hallway as he leads you down the hall. The lights, the laughter, and the energy of the celebrations in the main area of the club are still audible, but you can only hear the muffled sounds of the celebration being held for him. “Lando,” in hopes of finally getting some answers, you say his name for the umpteenth time, but he just looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, “what’s wrong?”

He's silent as he wraps his arms around your waist and before you can repeat your question he buries his head in the crook of your neck. While you’re thinking about what could’ve caused his sudden need to be alone with you, he’s very glad that you’ve opted to wear sneakers tonight instead of heels.

“Baby,” you murmur, your fingers running through his curls in an attempt to bribe him, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.” His voice is muffled by your skin and you can feel the breath he exhales on your shoulder.

You purse your lips and give him a few moments for him to break on his own, but when he doesn’t, you sigh softly. “Something is wrong.”

He raises his head momentarily to give you an unamused look, then bury his head back into your neck, “I saw you and Oscar.”

“Yeah, we were talking about the race.” Your confirmation leaves you confused as he lets out a scoff, and you find yourself warily asking, “Is there something wrong with that?”

You hear him scoff again and then, “Well I didn’t particularly like it.”

You gently push him off of you as you try to look past his confused expression and pouted lips, “You didn’t like me talking to your teammate… about your race.”

“Well when you put it like that–”

“Lando he is two years younger than us, and he has a girlfriend you do realise that, don’t you?” Your hands rest on either side of your body on your hips as you give him a small grin, “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

His eyes widen as he nods, “Well yeah, Tink, I think that one was very much obvious when I dragged you here.”

“I mean,” you drawl, “it was kind of cute, you know?”

As his eyes narrow, Lando walks you backwards until you’re pressed up against the wall. “Well I am a cute person.”

“Oh yeah,” you let out a giggle, “the cutest.” Your fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt while you look up at him to meet his eyes, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should probably get back to the party?” He mumbles, his eyes drifting as he looks around the hall.

You fist the collar of his shirt as you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, your voice lowering down for only him to hear even if it’s a deserted hallway, “You don’t have a race tomorrow.”

His eyes come back down to meet yours, “Well yes, it’s Mond– oh,” it takes a moment for him to realise what you’ve meant, and you’re thrown over his shoulder in an instant.

“Wha– Lando put me down!” You shriek, “What are you doing?”

His voice is playful as he starts walking towards the back door of the club, “We are not leaving that hotel room for a few days.”  

It doesn’t take long for you to start laughing, “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs the opposite shoulder, “but I’m your idiot.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, but you can’t help the small smile forming on your lips as you murmur, “Yeah, yeah you are.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff

[neochan]

straight out a romance novel (m) – teaser

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➪ bookshop keeper!jaemin x author!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 ➪ meet cute (read:awkward), sunshine x sunshine, strangers to something, love triangle, jealousy, best friends to rivals, found family in a way, smut, fluff, minor angst, including barista!jeno, ice cream shop worker!mark, barista!haechan, day care worker!renjun.

𝐖𝐂 ➪ teaser is 1.1k & fic is 20-25k est.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➪ i've had this idea in the drafts since 2021 when i saw this note on a bookshop door. ever since then, i've been dreaming about telling this story. today i put fingers to keyboard and wrote a little something.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ➪ comment or send an ask!

A brightly-colored yellow paper clings to the door, its message hastily scrawled in ink: "we're open!" beckoning with a number underneath. You reach for the handle, but it refuses to budge, the lock catching you off guard. If they truly were open, why wasn't the door unlocked? You ponder for a moment whether to dial the number, then with a resigned sigh, you retrieve your phone and punch in the digits.

After a brief moment, the phone rings just once before a cheery voice fills your ear.

"Hello, Jaemin speaking."

You hesitated for a moment before responding, your heart fluttering for what seemed like no reason at all.

"Hey. I saw the note on the door. Mind letting me in?" Your voice wavered slightly, "The door is locked."

There's a shuffling on the other end of the line, and then a long slew of slightly muffled curse words.

You can't help but stifle a chuckle at the colorful language. It definitely wasn't what you were expecting from the boy who answered the phone so joyfully.

Moments later, you hear the click of the lock, and the door creaks open. The boy – Jaemin – stands there, phone pressed to his ear, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

"Hello," he says, his voice slightly louder than expected, the proximity causes a feedback loop that makes your ears sting.

You wince at the sudden noise, but the discomfort is overshadowed by the way he jumps nearly ten feet in the air. He fumbles to hang up the call, hands trembling.

"Sorry about that," Jaemin says, his cheeks flushing pink. "I forgot I was still on the phone."

Jaemin stands in the doorway, caught in a moment of stunned admiration as he gazes at you. His eyes trace the gentle curve of your lips, the way sunlight dances in your hair, and the subtle grace in your movements. He sways slightly, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.

For a moment, the world seems to slow down as you both stand there looking at each other. It's only when you shift your weight that he realizes he's been staring, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.

Just as the silence begins to stretch uncomfortably, you clear your throat, "Um, can I come in?" you ask, voice soft yet filled with a hint of amusement.

The sound of your voice snaps Jaemin out of his reverie, and he blinks, his cheeks reddening even further at his own awkwardness.

"Oh! Yes, of course!" Jaemin steps back hastily, gesturing for you to enter the cozy bookshop.

You offer him a gracious smile as you pass by, feeling a flutter of excitement at the unexpected boyish charm that radiated off him. As you step inside, the scent of old books and ink envelops you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. This was familiar. This was home.

Jaemin shuts the door and follows you inside, his heart still pounding with the exhilaration of your presence. He can't help but steal glances at you as you explore the shelves, his cheeks flushing anew with each fleeting moment of eye contact.

Realizations seem to come slow to him today, because as you pick up a tattered book, avoiding his gaze in the dimly lit aisle, Jaemin becomes acutely aware of how his lingering presence might be perceived as stalkerish. In an attempt to ease the tension, he crosses his arms and leans against the shelf.

"So, what brings you to Seaside Stories?"

You glance up from the worn pages of the book, meeting Jaemin's gaze with a hint of curiosity in your eyes.

"Seaside Stories," you repeat, the name rolling off your tongue as you gesture around the cozy bookstore. "It's a lovely name. Is there a story behind it?"

Jaemin scratches the back of his head again, another sheepish grin gracing his lips. "Yeah, it's, um, the name of the store," he admits, his tone tinged with a touch of embarrassment.

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance towards the entrance. "But the sign outside just says bookstore," you remark.

The boy shifts awkwardly. "Right, about that... I, uh, I haven't gotten around to changing it yet," he confesses.

You can't help but chuckle at his honesty. "Well, Seaside Stories suits it perfectly," you assure him.

"Thanks," he murmurs, his voice bashful. "I'm glad you think so."

You nod, feeling a gentle warmth spreading through the air between you. The moment hangs suspended, the soft rustle of pages and the faint scent of old books enveloping you both in a cocoon of quiet intimacy.

As Jaemin stands, slightly uncomfortable by the wooden shelf that dug into his shoulder, he clears his throat, breaking the silence. "So..." he begins tentatively, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words.

You meet his gaze, "So... what's on your mind?" you prompt, a smirk teasing the corners of your lips.

A faint flush colors Jaemin's cheeks as he gathers his thoughts, his eyes flickering. "You never answered my question... What brings you here today?" he asks.

"Just exploring," you reply with a shrug, "I have a soft spot for bookshops, especially ones with charming yellow notes on the door," you add playfully.

As if his face could get any deeper shade of red, Jaemin's face grows hot again. He nods, excitment lighting up his features. "It's always nice to meet fellow book lovers," he remarks.

"Absolutely."

Another wave of silence passes between the both of you as you continue to fumble through the pages of the tattered book in your hands. The cover depicted what looked like a blue haired pirate aboard a rickety wooden boat. Definitely not what you'd read on a normal day. And absolutely nothing like what you write.

Suddenly aware of the lingering silence for the upteenth time, he attempts to clear his throat, but it comes out in a cackle that sounded like a dying cat. "So, uh, can I help you find anything specific?" he asks, his words stumbling over each other in his eagerness to fill the void.

You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "No, I'm just browsing, thank you."

"Right, of course," he mumbles, his gaze darting nervously around the room. "Well, um, let me know if you need anything. I'll just... be around."

With an awkward half-wave, Jaemin retreats down the aisle, leaving you to explore the shelves in peace. As you watch him go, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

This boy was weird, but in a good way, you think.

Now come to think of it, so was the boy in the coffee shop.

Must be something in the water.

#jaemin x reader #jaemin smut #nct jaemin x reader #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin fic #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct jaemin fic #jaemin fic #nct dream smut

[machiavellli]

Some Lorenzo Berkshire headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Notes: after a month I made them. I am truly sorry, I am the ceo of procrastination. But I had so much fun writing those though, because Lorenzo is my silly lovely boy, I wanna hug him so bad, he too precious. And this song, reminds me of him so bad, like every time I listen to it, my mind immediately jumps to him.

Honestly I got a bit carried away, I wanted to cover maybe other parts, like how he is as a boyfriend, but well-. You read it and of course you can tell me what you think after :)

Pairing: Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Infos: pretty much just fluff, possible dramatic scene, no use of y/n, Lorenzo being cute, mutual pinning, English is not my first language (please if you find any mistake report them to me!).

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Lorenzo Berkshire, the most precious slytherin boy:

You two first met when you were just children because of your families

And I don’t know about you, but I used to despise boys so much when I was little, until I was seven (or perhaps even eight), so I kinda imagine your first meeting to be not that charming.

Like little Enzo panicking because he can’t understand what he did wrong, why this little girl is making such a disgusted face for him

But as you two grow more comfortable around each other, he becomes your best boy friend.

You two have many chances to see each other during your childhood and you always tried to make the best out of each encounter.

The type of kids that would cry when they have to separate after playing all day together.

And also the type of children that would definitely try to pull a prank on little Draco, just for them to get chased down by Lucius Malfoy himself after and cry frightened.

But something inside you two changes when you both are forced into your first ballroom dancing class (I headcanon that all the high-ranking families in the magical society enjoy hosting elegant dinners and balls, so follow me on this)

The proximity between you two, the touch of her hand, totally make little Enzo go all flushed.

Therefore, that soft innocent crush in the heart of the two children starts to blossom.

You drew hearts next to his name in your diary, imprisoning your feelings at the edge of a paper too scared to burn at the sight of the light, too scared to show this growing affection.

Little Enzo would sometimes pick a flower from his garden, trying to build some courage in himself for giving it to you. But that never happens.

When you get to Hogwarts he is your rock.

Perhaps if you an introvert he is the one introducing you to people or literally bringing you inside a friend group.

Ever heard of the trope “extrovert adopts an introvert”? Like that I mean.

Anyway, the crush is still there, of course, but none of you dare to even consider talking about it. Because no one has the guts to risk losing their favorite person.

Lorenzo is very cheerful, a ray of sunshine, and as he grows more people start to notice. And that’s a problem.

You are jealous, terribly.

Seeing those girls approaching him, giggling like infants, even when you are right at his side, hurts you.

He always refuse them politely and you smile in you mind.

Lorenzo is such a gentleman and everybody knows it.

Always giving you his arm while walking, opening doors,

moving chairs,

asking “how did you sleep darling?” or “have you eaten today dear?”

hugging you every time you see each other,

Offering his jacket to you as soon as he notice that it is becoming a little cold

Listening you ramble for hours about your favorite subject or a book you just read, always with that delicious little smile painted on his face.

And if he finds you crying for whatever reason he will take you into his arms immediately.

Listening to you explain through your tears what happened, while one hand strokes your hair gently and the other your back.

Seeing you hurt has an effect on him, definitely will let a couple of tears slip while you can’t see him.

Lorenzo is an empath, he will understand you and he will comfort you.

Also I feel like his love language is debatable, but he will definitely like to touch you, to feel your presence concretely.

Even if you two are not together he will often try to pull out an arm around your shoulders, always respecting your decision to refuse it and your personal vital space though.

Perhaps, sometimes, as you are all focused making your pen run during your studies session, he will look at your hand, wishing to be able to linger over it without an explanation.

He is also jealous, of course, because no one knows how desperate he is for you, how he feels blinded by how beautiful you have grown.

He feels his eyes and heart burning when a guy at a party tries to hit on you.

The golden retriever energy is suddenly gone and Theo will pull out a worried look for his friend.

But you aren’t his, how stupid it is of him to ache himself for something he never had.

After another scene of this kind, Theo decides to ask him about this totally not subtle behavior of his. (You already know that I headcanon Enzo and Theo to be best buddies shhh)

It takes a while for him to confess, but either for the tipsy state or the exhaustion that this situation has brought to him, he confess.

After years, let’s say it happens in the 6th year, he finally tells someone, felling already a bit lighter.

Theo looks at him, trying to not laugh, but miserably fails: “mate do you need glasses?”

And then he explains to him that anyone can see that something is going on between the two.

That you look at him like he is the sun lighting your existence and so does he with you.

Perhaps it is time to act now, to not fear, to be brave.

He won’t ask you directly though, I see him more prone to writing down a letter to you

Pouring on paper his feelings, how exceptionally well you make him feel, in conclusion, his love for you.

The angel sent from above that you are in his eyes, that he always had and always will e have at his side if he seals with ink his emotions.

Perhaps it could look something like this:

My Dearest,

In the quiet corners of my soul, I've carried a secret for what feels like an eternity, my heart dances to the rhythm of your name. Amidst youthful dreams and uncertain tomorrows, your laughter echoes in my thoughts, painting vivid hues in the canvas of my days. With each passing day, your radiance grows, illuminating the path of my existence. Today, in this moment of bravery, perhaps taken by a Gryffindor spirit, I dare to confess what has long lingered unspoken: I adore you beyond measure.

Yours sincerely,

Lorenzo

And do we want the realization dramatic? Of course, is that even a question?

You recive his letter in a moment of privacy, perhaps in a quiet corner of the library while you are studying.

A first year approach you and quickly says “It is from Lorenzo Berkshire, he wants to know what you think then” before running away.

You look at the letter puzzled, looking at the delicate handwriting in which your initials are written on the outside.

You open the letter and everything just stops.

Only your eyes move, running desperately over and over again on the words overflowed by pure love.

How is it that you never noticed?

How is it that someone can love you so deeply?

The clock has continued its tireless dance for too long and you finally had enough.

There it won’t be peace until you found him.

An exceptional energy, filled with excitement, happiness and love, takes over you.

You suddenly snap, lifting yourself up from your cozy spot, leaving everything behind, because your real everything is in front of you.

The sound of your shoes, tirelessly beating against the hard floor as you run, is all you can hear.

People send concerned look in your way as you brush not so cordially their shoulder, trying to make your way to your lover.

The halls are full, the rain is once again pouring outside, you don’t even know where you are going, simply drove by the now fully ignited sentiment.

Lorenzo is repaired outside in the viaduct courtyard, waiting for his friends to be done with their smoking when he sees you.

You, bravely exiting the library annex, making your way to the viaduct bridge, looking left and right, looking for him.

Without a word to the others he starts running in your direction, the rain quickly wetting him entirely.

You are now both running, from opposite side of the bridge, people gathering around looking as the scene consume before them.

It is cold,

It is wet,

The nature is gray under the fog.

But two hearts beat ferociously, desperately trying to approach the other.

Your drenched hair flows with your movement, hands in a fist, your vision lightly blurred.

And in the middle of the bridge he catches you.

An hug full of every word neglect for so long.

He spins you around for has many years he had to wait for this, before he lets you go, moving his hands to cup your face gently as the rain harshly pours on you.

Eyes so desperate to crawl into the other’s spirit.

“I sense my letter has reached you” he will say smiling like an idiot drunk on love

You giggle, like the kids you used to be.

Because you have known each other for a lifetime, but only now he has found you.

“My dear, I love you” he will say before kissing you, warming your body, lighting your existence.

Everything faded then, from the cheers of the other students looking at the theatrical scene, to the screams of the various professor trying to pull you inside.

Your heart finally funded his.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

I hope you liked them🫶✨

my ask box is open btw!

#sorry for the absence I was making these 🫶✨🌷💗 #lorenzo berkshire #my gifs #lorenzo berkshire headcanons #my headcanons #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #Lorenzo Berkshire x y/n #fluff #lorenzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire headcannons #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x y/n #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin boys x you #pure fluff #Slytherin aesthetic #until i found you #Lorenzo Berkshire gifs #harry potter headcanon #Harry Potter #theodore nott #theo nott #slytherin #draco malfoy #louis partridge #harry potter fanfiction

[heavenlyvision]

Mattress

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: Raiden x afab!Reader

A/N: I don't have any excuses, I am apparently feral tonight and decided to write a short fic for Raiden that is basically all smut. I feel bad that he tied in the poll but lost to the wheel :(( Have this as a peace offering <33

Summary: Raiden's bed is more comfortable than your own, which means you are always in it, much to his dismay.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, p in v sex, no pronouns used, praise, Gentle!Raiden, eye contact, no use of y/n

The mattress of Raiden’s bed is significantly more comfortable than your own, something you tell him frequently. Something he tells you is not true every time you bring it up but continues to remain true to you. Whether it’s because it’s actually more comfortable or if it’s because it’s Raiden’s bed, you aren’t sure but it’s comfy here. Safe.

“Go back to your own bed,” he complains from beside you.

You pretend to think hard, humming, “Hmm no, I am comfy here.”

He’s exasperated with you; he just wants to read alone in bed and you are hijacking his peace and quiet. You think right about now he is regretting letting you live with him but you needed a roomie and he is one of your oldest friends, so he caved and let you stay with him.

“I can’t do anything alone anymore,” he sighs.

You huff out at him, “You can to! I am just having a little nap.”

“Do it in your own room,” he complains.

Whinging at him, you protest, “But my mattress is lumpy and weird, plus I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“Do what you want, you are going to anyway,” he acquiesces, this conversation going nowhere.

You smile smugly, proud of yourself, he always caves with you and now you get to nap comfortably in his bed beside him. You weren’t lying, your bed is genuinely lumpy and weird and you prefer sleeping next to him, your sleep is better when you know he’s beside you.

“You always give in,” you prod at his side, gloating.

“Do not push it,” he warns but you still poke at his side, “I thought you wanted to nap?” He asks, slapping your hand away.

You ignore him and sit up, continuing to tease and poke at him. He’s generally difficult to get a reaction out of, too ‘mature’ to stoop to your level but every now and again you push his buttons just right and he’ll retaliate. It’s always fun to watch.

Apparently, today he’s extra touchy and he shoots up, grabbing you and pushing you back on the mattress. He holds you down under him, your wrists being pushed into the mattress.

“You are meant to be napping,” he scowls at you, his face close to your own.

His proximity makes you nervous, this does not bode well for your crush on him. You’re stunned as you look up at him, not expecting him to hold you down like this and certainly not expecting him to do it so effortlessly.

“What is wrong? You normally have so much to say,” his brows are still furrowed at you.

You try to struggle against his hold, attempting to free yourself. Your attempts are entirely unsuccessful, your movements not even affecting his hold on you even a little bit. Which makes you frown at him, the annoyed expression on your face and unsuccessful escape has Raiden’s features lighting up. Seemingly pleased at your realisation of your defeat.

You ask him, “Can you get off me now?”

“Hmm no, I am comfy here,” he smiles smugly at you, repeating your words from before.

Your frown deepens at him but he seems to have done a one-eighty, overly pleased with himself while you are now annoyed with him.

As you gaze at him you can’t help but drift over all of his features, the smugness in his eyes, the definition of his nose, the softness of his lips. You quickly flick your eyes back up to his, hoping he didn’t notice your wandering gaze. But he did, he always notices everything you do, you can’t make an out of the usual decision or move, he notices and he always checks if you’re okay.

When it comes to your feelings you can’t tell if he’s ignoring them or dim but with the knowing look in his eyes now, he seems to have finally caught onto your desire for him at the very least. His head ducks down closer to yours, his lips lightly grazing your own, the slight touch makes you dizzy. You’ve liked him for so long and now he’s so close to you, his skin touching yours.

His lips move against yours as he checks with you, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please?”

Your confirmation has him pressing his lips to yours properly, it’s so soft and so caring and so him. He has you melting for him just from a tender kiss and you really wish you could touch him but he’s still holding you down. His lips are gentle and searching, learning how you like to be kissed. One of his hands leaves your wrist to grasp the side of your face, his lips the smallest bit more forceful as he holds your face.

The increase in his urgency has a light gasp pulling from you and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your free hand reaches up and holds on the side of his face, pulling him down to you more, wanting more from him. Craving all of him, and he provides, his kiss becomes fervent and full and it has you lightheaded. Small whines are slipping from you at the way he kisses you, he’s kissing you like you’re delicate, trying so hard to be gentle but being overwhelmed by his and your own need.

When he pulls back you’re breathless, you’ve never been kissed so attentively, so fully. The desire you feel for him is unmatched and you’ve been so carefully pulled apart by his lips alone. His thumb strokes high on your cheekbone, his eyes captivated by you, they keep flicking back to your lips. Waiting for you to catch your breath so he can kiss you again.

You’re still restrained, hand struggling under his hold to remind him he’s still got you pinned, he releases you at your movements and both your arms reach up, grabbing behind his neck and pulling him down to you completely. His lips crash against yours, eager to kiss you again, his tongue immediately in your mouth again. Exploring you carefully, attentive to how you react to him.

One of his hands slides down your body and holds onto your thigh, pulling it up and hooking it onto his hip. You use the position to your advantage and pull his hips to yours, your core pressed against his crotch. The shock of your movement has a surprised sound exiting Raiden, he moves his lips off yours and rests his forehead against you.

“We can stop,” he tells you, giving you an out. Not wanting to push you into something you don’t want.

You pull him close to you and grind against the bulge in his pants, “I don’t want to.”

The motion has him closing his eyes, having to control himself momentarily, “Then, undress.”

His words bleed with need and desire, you can tell his control waned thin for a second, his tone has an underlying commanding manner to it. It has you throbbing for him. He lets you push him back so you can undress, you slip out of your pants before tugging your shirt off.

“These too,” he comments, lifting the waistband of your panties before letting them snap back against you. The shock of it making you jump.

He had pulled his own shirt and pants off while you did, both equally undressed, “You first,” you retort.

Your apprehension makes him smile at you, he tugs his underwear off first, completely bare in front of you. His cock fully erect for you, the sight of it has your insides twisting, he’s large and thick and, “I don’t know if you’ll fit,” you observe.

“I am not that big,” he dismisses.

You look at him incredulously, “Humble to a fault.”

He shakes his head at you but taps your leg, reminding you to take off your own underwear, which you do, nervously. Chucking them to the floor when they’re off, Raiden shuffles closer to you again, between your legs.

“If you are worried, I will be gentle.” He assures you.

You look at him coquettishly, “You don’t have to be.”

His eyes shut, gathering himself, “I am going to be gentle.” He replies, it’s not a question.

“Okay,” you answer.

He slides the head of his cock through your folds, gathering all of your slick on him. Getting his dick wet to make the stretch easier on you, his movements have you twitching against him. His eyes are alight with satisfaction, enjoying your bodies reaction to him and his minimal touch. He notches himself against your pussy hole before gingerly pushing forwards, the stretch a lot for you.

He notices your struggle to take him, and he rubs his thumb over your clit, the pleasurable stimulation has you relaxing against him. Enough so he can push the head of his cock into you, the feeling has you both sighing.

“You are tight,” he groans, struggling slightly with the grip you have on him.

You argue back, “You’re just big.”

He chuckles a bit but pushes into you more, his cock is a lot to take but he eventually has you stuffed full of him. Your cunt taking him to the hilt, you’re so wet for him that you’re practically drooling on his dick.

Once he’s fully inside you, he leans down, pressing all of himself against you. Skin to skin. The contact has your heart soaring, feeling so full of him and loving the closeness. He looks you directly in the eyes, it’s intense and has you shying away from him, but he pulls your face back so you’re looking him in the eyes.

He watches your face carefully as he pulls out of you, his pace slow and steady, “You are beautiful.” He compliments you as you take his fat cock.

Your legs wrap around his waist, holding onto him. He holds your face still, making sure you keep your eyes on his, wanting to watch your face as you fall apart for him. His cock is rocking back and forth into you smoothly, never speeding up or slowing down, keeping pace. The unwavering manner of his strokes has you craving more but loving what you’re getting. Not wanting him to change anything and wanting so much more, he’s driving you crazy.

His expression is pleased as he watches the way you melt for him, the way your eyes glaze over, and mouth opens letting soft sounds of whimpers and moans fall from it. He offers you compliments the whole time he rocks into you.

“Doing so good for me, look so pretty right now… You always look so pretty,” he murmurs to you, his own eyes glazing over with the pleasure your cunt gives him.

You try to tell him how good you feel but you’re a bit scatter-brained at the moment, “Raiden, you feel –mmph– good, filling me so much –hah–”

He doesn’t seem to mind, enjoying the lost look in your eyes and incoherent compliments. His thrusts are still holding steady but you’re getting closer, his consistent pace working you up gradually. You’re throbbing around him, close to the edge. He’s twitching inside you, close to his own end as well.

“Want to cum at the same time,” his hand reaches down and rubs circles into your clit. His eyes stay on your face, never wanting to look away. The fingers on your clit have you right on the edge, about to fall off. He tells you, “Now, cum for me.”

And you do, very suddenly, and he cums as you do. Grinding into you as he releases his sticky cum inside you, it’s filling you completely. He’s still watching you, carefully taking in your expression as you come down from your orgasm. His own face pleasure filled, eyes lazy and content.  

It occurs to you that you had been subconsciously waiting for his permission to cum, he has a soft domineering way about him that compels you. He’s polite as he tells you what to do, so much so that it doesn’t even seem like he’s telling you what to do.

“You look beautiful when you cum,” he compliments again, genuine as he does.

His compliment is embarrassing and has your cheeks heating up with it, he smiles at you and leans down to press a tender kiss against your lips. He kisses you for a moment, enjoying the closeness of being inside you while pressing his lips against yours, coming down from your highs together.

Eventually, he parts from you, careful as he pulls out. He rolls onto his back and takes you with him, leaving you resting against his chest. He’s comfortable, maybe more comfortable than his mattress.

“Is my mattress really better than yours or was this always your end goal?” His chest vibrates under you with his words.

You laugh a bit, “Your mattress is actually better, this was good too though.”

He hums a bit, “I have a feeling you will be in my bed even more frequently now.”

“Will that be my fault or yours?” You tease.

“Mine,” he answers, kissing the top of your head.

⊹₊ ⋆

#mk1 2023 #mk1 smut #raiden x reader #raiden x reader smut #raiden smut #raiden x you #raiden x you smut #raiden mk1 #fanfic #smut

[doobea]

♡‧₊˚ i got my eyes on you ೄྀ࿐ˊˎ ─ MILESTONE MASTERLIST

HI EVERYONE!! I hope everyone is excited to this milestone event hehe! It ended up being 10 reqs in total and I just wanna send everyone a HUGE thank you again for sticking with me throughout the months on this crazy site hehe. I tried to keep most of the tropes relevant to the original requests but I added my own ideas/flare to some of them!! any of the ✰'s you see are added hehe

For those who are out of the loop, please refer to this OG post about the event! Anyways, I hope you guys look forward to this!! I've been dying to write some new ideas hehe

COMING SOON:

OF THREADS AND RIBBONS ─ MEGUMI F.

synopsis: you can see the red strings of fate holding people together, but no one is allowed to know that. that fact didn't stop you from using your knowledge to nudge soulmates together. of course, this led to you getting a reputation as the class matchmaker, which isn't an issue until your soulmate, Megumi Fushiguro, asks you to set him up with someone else.

tropes: soulmate AU, college AU

ALWAYS BE MY MAYBE ─ MEGUMI F.

synopsis: upon graduating and landing your first job outside of college, you soon realize that being in your twenties suck. outside of working nine hours everyday, setting time for the gym, and making shitty home cooked meals, you have a new stressor joining your team on monday - your ex.

tropes: second chances, office romance

NOT LIKE GOLD IN YOUR DREAMS ─ SUKUNA R.

synopsis: your tycoon family has done you the favor of finding the 'perfect' bachelor, aiming to strengthen their connections and net worth. and who is your future husband? cold, brash, and down right dangerous. he is the definition of devastation poured and disguised in a suit.

tropes: arranged marriage, slow burn, billionaire!sukuna ✰

BUT YOU'RE A MASTERPIECE ─ SATORU G.

synopsis: when your friends urge you to take up a new hobby, you decide on figure drawing. you convince yourself that it'll be a good way to make friends, to let your hands and mind run loose for three hours, and maybe you'll find the passion for art again. what you didn't expect is to fall in love with your nude model.

tropes: slow burn, model/artist AU ✰

NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS ─ SATORU G.

synopsis: the last thing you'd expect after moving to raccoon city is a zombie outbreak. but good thing you have a hot police officer to look after you, right?

tropes: zombie AU, christmas AU, police officer!gojo ✰, resident evil AU ✰

YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MISTER GOJO ─ SATORU G.

synopsis: satoru gojo is spoiled and arrogant. he's also the next in line to inherit his family's fortune. his father sends him far away in a small town for a week in hopes that he'll 'change' for the better. instead of the usual five-starred hilton hotels, he stays at a local inn and starts to befriend the owner's daughter.

tropes: small town romance, christmas au, golden retriever x black cat

SPITTIN' OUT LIKE LISTERINE ─ RIN I.

synopsis: sae is great at a lot of things, his brother... not so much. when sae calls you up to tutor rin for his upcoming exams the first thought should've been 'yeah, sounds like easy money' rather than 'why does it look like he wants to kill me right now'.

tropes: best friend's brother, forced proximity, tutor!reader ✰

FROM NEW YORK, WITH LOVE ─ RIN I.

synopsis: new york city is always depicted as the place to be, known for its big hopes and even bigger dreams. but when you and rin reunite, after being apart for two years, you're both surrounded by broken promises and empty wishes. maybe coming here was a mistake after all. because exs can't just be friends, right?

tropes: second chance, hurt/comfort, college AU

NEW GAME PLUS ─ RIN I.

synopsis: ranked number three on the top streaming platform, twitch, rin hides his secret identity pretty well for a college student. during the day, he's studying non-stop and, when night comes, he's getting headshots left and right while yelling into comms. he absolutely hates losing, which is why you're on his shit list - AKA the second top streamer and the second best sniper in all of asia. so what does rin do when he finds out that you're suddenly his new project partner?

tropes: esport AU, rivals to lovers, college AU, overwatch ✰ (i picked this game bc i know a lot of it lol i hope you don't mind)

ICE, ICE, BABY ─ YOICHI I.

synopsis: you don't do spontaneous and you hate it when things don't align with your routine. so when the school's hockey team messes up their rink and has to settle with the figure skating one, you'll do everything in your power to make sure you'll reach the nationals - even if it means distracting the hockey team's star player.

tropes: hockey player!isagi, figure skater!reader ✰, enemies to lovers

© 2023 DOOBEA. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.

#doobea writing #doobea milestone - masterlist #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader

[jjkeverlast]

seven days a week | jjk (m)

>> pairing jungkook x fem!reader

>> genre/au's friends with benefits | college AU | smut | crack

>> summary jeon jungkook has always had crazy ideas, but wanting to fuck you every day of the week was the last thing you expected.

>> word count 1.3k

>> warnings masturbation | stripping | choking | jungkook fucks reader on her dorm desk | looots of teasing | rimjob (f. receiving) | biting

>> author's note here's some classic fucking from behind for my fellow lovers out thereeee!! hope you enjoy another filthy drabble, see y'all tomorrowwww <33

masterlist for seven days a week

“This better be important.” You say as soon as the call connects, Jimin’s face plastered onto your phone screen. 

“Oh come on. Can’t I just hear how my favorite girl is doing?” Jimin speaks lightly, almost ironically and you just know he wants something. 

“Jimin, what do you want?” You respond sternly. 

Jimin gasps, offended by you saying such a thing. 

“Just spill it—“ Before Jimin can get another word out, someone steps into your dorm. You think it’s your roommate, not bothering to look until the person is standing in frame. 

“Oh. Hey Jimin.” Jungkook greets, hovering over you, his hands on your desk. 

“Hi Jungkook! Wait— Jungkook?!” Jimin is about to scream when you scramble to hang up. 

“Gotta go!” You hang up abruptly. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at how you immediately end the call. 

“Does he not know about us?” You sigh, slumping back in your chair. 

“There is no us, Jeon.” You remind him. “Also, why are you here?” 

Jungkook chuckles, pecking your lips. “To fuck you, like promised.” 

Oh fuck, you almost forgot his stupid idea. Jungkook? Well he hasn’t thought about anything else than fucking you silly since he left your dorm yesterday. 

“You’re insane.” You get up, pushing him a bit away, feeling flustered by the close proximity. 

“You’re not opposed to it. So, come here.” He bites his lip, both of his piercings peaking through the dimmed lighting. You don’t move, so Jungkook grabs you by the waist, inviting your chests to bump against each other in a hard thump. 

“Much better.” He whispers, diving in to give you an actual kiss. There’s something terrible when it comes to Jungkook when he kisses you, you can never stop. You become fully addicted to how his tongue runs smoothly above your lips before tangling it with your own. Jungkook tastes sweet, exciting and overall good. Just something that’s hard for you to keep yourself away from. 

Your hands move towards the nap of his neck, fiddling with the long black strands that curl slightly. His hair is awfully soft, addicting to pull and touch whenever you can. Jungkook loves when you become all touchy, embracing his form in front of you, your hands in need of being everywhere when you’re together. 

Jungkook moans inside of your mouth, feeling himself getting worked up over how you touch him. You smile against his lips, loving how you’re able to get noises out of his mouth. Jungkook pushes you backwards so you land on top of your desk. You don’t ask questions, instead you pull away, tracing your fingers on his lips while you settle yourself down on your desk, spreading your legs for him. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Jungkook mumbles under his breath, moving forward and groping your ass to push you against him while his tongue and mouth runs on your exposed neck. You let out a satisfied hum, running your hands beneath his shirt to feel his warm skin against your palms. 

Jungkook moves upwards, nipping down on your earlobe before he removes you from the desk, turning you around so he’s faced with your ass. You glance behind you, catching Jungkook ogling your backside, licking his lips as he just stands there and watches. 

“Are you just going to look or are you going to do something?” You ask, spoiling that you’re impatient. 

“I’m definitely going to just look. Fuck—“ You begin to laugh, stunned by how much Jungkook loves admiring your body. It does give you some form of confidence, mostly because he’s the first to truly appreciate every curve and edge of your naked body. It’s definitely something you need to get used to. You’re getting there though, somehow. 

“Fine.” You respond coldly, hurrying the process by removing your clothes while Jungkook stands behind you. Jungkook curses under his breath when you bend forward, removing your underwear and sweatpants. 

“You’re actually going to kill me.” You stifle a laugh at the comment, feeling exposed but still comfortable because this is Jungkook. The guy who constantly praises and loves ruining you in the best ways possible. 

He’s not saying anything, so you turn your head and— Oh. Jungkook is undressing in a hurry, almost tripping over himself when he removes his pants. 

“You okay?” 

“Mhm.” Finally, Jungkook touches you. He starts off easy, just letting his palm roam on your back and ass. You push towards him, needing more. Jungkook loves this side of you, there’s something about you silently begging that sets him off completely making him lose his cool — which he easily can control. But no, ever since he met you, he hasn’t been able to tease you like he’s always wanted, needing you as much as you need him. 

He places his tattooed hand to your front, rubbing your clit as he pushes his erection on your ass, allowing you to feel how hard he already is. You moan by the sensation, dropping your head backwards on his shoulder, your hand tugging in his hair whenever you feel the pleasure grow in your gut. 

“Already so wet.” He bites your ear, his fingers touching every inch of your wet slit. “I bet you can take it already, so easily.” He says in a lustful tone, almost hinting that he’ll just slide it right in when he’s become completely impatient. 

“Fuck me, Jeon.” You breathe out on his cheek, arching under his touch. 

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate, putting on a condom behind you before he lines himself by your entrance. He teases you by thrusting in between your lips, making you feel the edges of his cock. You expect him to fuck you right here, but Jungkook has another thing in mind before he does exactly that. 

Instead, he drops down on his knees, spreading out your ass and tracing his lips on your rim. 

“Shi—“ You gasp, clutching tightly on the edges of your desk, loving the wet sensation he’s welcoming. 

Jungkook and his tongue are gonna fucking end you. 

To add stimulation, you start rubbing your clit in circles, imagining it’s Jungkook’s fingers instead. Jungkook quickly notices how you’re touching yourself and grows more wild, rubbing his nose on the curve of your ass and his tongue diving deep inside of you. 

“F-Fuck—“ You stutter, too overwhelmed and losing your composure. Jungkook doesn’t continue, instead he stands back up, steadying his cock by your entrance. 

“You want it baby? Hmm?” He teases, rubbing it between your cheeks. When you can’t form a simple yes, Jungkook slides in with ease, stretching you out. Once he’s bottomed out, he begins to move, placing his hand around your neck and pressing lightly. 

The sounds of skin slapping each other grows louder with each thrust, Jungkook fucking you absolutely silly. You can’t even think, too immersed with how he feels inside of you, his cock moving in and out of you. 

You blame it on all the teasing he’s done, because before you know it, you’re already coming undone. Every limb of yours goes numb, while Jungkook continues to chase his own high. 

With one last thrust, Jungkook grabs your breasts, squeezing as he comes undone. He groans loudly, his voice becoming hoarse. 

You both try and catch your breaths, Jungkook leaning his forehead on the nape of your neck, his cock still inside of you, softening by the second. 

“That was…” 

“Yeah.” Jungkook agrees despite you not finishing your sentence. 

“Five more days to go.” He whispers against your neck, pulling out gently. 

“You’re insane.” You breathe out, taking your palm to wipe out the sweat forming on your forehead. 

“Shut up. You love it.” 

Maybe you do. 

“Want you to pick what we do tomorrow.” Jungkook says, while dressing up. 

Oh this is gonna be fun. 

“It’s a deal. See you tomorrow.” You throw him a wink while pulling your shirt over your head. 

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© jjkeverlast 2023 [do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.]

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fic #bts jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook drabble #jungkook drabble

[luveline]

Hi friend! I just have a small request for zombie au Steve if you’re feeling up for it. I miss him lol. It’s snowing where I live currently and it got me thinking. I would love to see just about anything with zombie au steve and some snow. I’m a little partial to pre-college times but it definitely doesn’t have to be. Fluff or angst bc tbh it could so go either way. Just if it strikes your fancy. And thank you as always for your lovely and warm writing you share!

thank you for reading and requesting, you angel!! some pre-college zombie!au for you <3 —steve acts like a boyfriend even when he isn’t one (officially) on a cold day alone together. fem, 1.1k

It can feel weird waking up next to you. Steve’s so used to taking shifts and sleeping half on top of one another that waking up face to face scares him at first —he flinches and his body fills with inertia as he throws his leg back to stop from falling out of bed. 

You doze peacefully through his panic. Your face is soft with sleep. You have deeply etched lines under your eyes that show how badly you need it, but beside them, Steve can’t find a thing wrong with you. You’re really pretty this close. He finds you beautiful. 

He lifts his hand to your neck in apology though you weren’t awake to notice his fear. “Morning,” he mouths, rubbing the side of your neck gently. 

Your skin is chapped, but his hands are calloused, so it’s not like he minds. He steals another minute watching you sleep, and then he leans forward to kiss your jaw just by his hand. You make a sound he chooses to believe is a knowing pleasure, a happy sigh at being with him. He’d kiss your lips if he thought he could, but he’s been asking first each time for the last few weeks, cautious of overstepping a boundary you haven’t laid. 

The thing is that Steve knew you liked him before he liked you back. Well. He guessed you were attracted to him, then argued with himself that he was being delusional. But one day you were asking if he’d hold your hand, and you wouldn’t admit it but you were scared, and he realised you depended on him for more than just your survival. He realised you were his friend, and now more than that, and it wasn’t that he wasn’t falling for you, but that he just didn’t know how to do that. You were already there waiting for him when he kissed you the first time. 

You’d been so nervous. It was enough to finish him off, compel him forward into whatever this is. (Whatever, but not whatever. He loves it. He’s not sure how to handle it.) 

When he peels away from you, his arms immediately prickle with goosebumps. The room is cold and it has to have been your proximity that was keeping him warm, his breath rising like fog as he stands. “Shit,” he mumbles, mouth glued together with fatigue. “Fucking hell.” 

He stretches until the sore spot at the low of his back clicks and turns to look at you again, checking you’re alright while he scratches the last eight hours out of his hair. You’ve curled a touch into his warm spot but otherwise remain asleep. 

Why is it suddenly cold? 

A white light is emanating from behind the curtains. Steve hopes to god it’s just a bright day today, that the sun is high and reflecting off of a lake nearby, but he pulls the drapes open and startles into silence. 

Powdery snow stretches thick and fast from either side of the landscape. Wind carries it around in drifting sheets, but it seems to have stopped for now. 

He grabs another blanket from the linen closet, a third, and stands with his head cocked by the door listening for sounds. Steve’s more often than not thinking about who or what might be near. 

He closes you both in again, shuts the curtains, and climbs into bed with you, draping the blankets heavily over your body where it makes half a heart. You pull a knee higher and disrupt the image, eyes squeezing tightly closed at his return, and opening sluggishly. 

“Hey,” he says, resting his head on the pillow. Eye to eye like this, he can see the sleep in your lashes. He probably has his own. “You feeling okay?” 

“Are you trying to cook me?” you ask. Now you’ve seen him, you’re relaxing, closing your eyes again. 

“Don’t go back to sleep.” 

“Why not?” 

“‘Cause I’m bored and you’re my only friend,” he says. 

“Ooh, wouldn’t say that. Not sure we’re there yet.” 

Steve cups your cheek. You smile into the pillow. 

He draws a line back and forth. It’s nice to give you something nice, a soft sensation. He thinks maybe that’s what falling in love is; wanting to make someone else happy, wanting them to make you happy. You’re a sweetheart when he’s not antagonising you; you’re nice, and gentle, and you hold his hand like you’ve loved him for years. He’s not stupid enough to miss how awesome that is. Nor can he ignore the way his heart has started to patter when you’re changing, or the contented, near bliss of your face pressed under his chin. This isn’t just about you wanting him or vice versa, it’s love. 

“Maybe you should sleep more. You still look tired.” 

You wrinkle your nose and he leans in, thinking about kissing you again, but you’re not on the same page yet. “I can’t sleep anymore. It’s midday, right?” You squint at the bright square of the window before hiding your face, your forehead slipping against his chin to his shoulder. “We should get going soon.” 

“That’s not happening.” 

He wraps his arm around you. You practically preen, happiness sewn into your words as you ask, “Why not?” 

“It snowed last night. All night, I’d say.” 

You look up at him sceptically. “Really?” 

“You think I’m lying?” 

“I thought it was too cold to snow.” 

“Tell that to the penguins in Antarctica.” 

You laugh into his shoulder. Slowly, your hand is climbing his stomach. After a half second of deliberation, you curl it behind his back and settle in. “You’re not nice.” 

“I’m nice,” he says into your forehead, pulling you closer in turn. “Not making you walk in the blizzard.” 

“Generous.” 

He hugs you tighter and decides fuck it, pressing a generous smattering of kisses into the skin between your brows. “You love that about me. I’m oh so forgiving.” He encourages your head back carefully to kiss the tip of your nose. “Are you warm enough?” 

You’d think he’s told you you’re beautiful, or that he wants your babies, the way you melt. “I’m fine. Thank you,” you mumble shyly. 

He presses his forehead to yours. The snow might stay for days, and eventually you’ll have to brave it, but for now he wants to stay here kissing you and exacerbating the ache that brews in his stomach every time your breath catches. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs. “There’s more linens if you need them.” 

“I won’t need them. You’re going to keep me warm.” 

“I am.” Steve presses a gentle kiss to your lips, endorphins like a rush of heat through every inch of skin as you kiss back. 

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Three: Roommates

summary: eddie proposes you move in with him, and you do — for the baby, duh.

warnings: mentions of morning sickness; brief vomit mention; but other than that 7.2k of fluff.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

——

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

Though you anticipated seeing more of Eddie in the upcoming months, you hadn’t expected it quite literally the next day. Chrissy had suggested a ‘family dinner’ that Sunday evening, but Steve ended up meeting a work friend to play some golf, and Melody had been fussing all day. When she had helplessly mentioned she hadn’t been able to go food shopping, you offered to go pick up everything she’d need.

It just so happened to be that when you drove up, Eddie’s van was sitting in front of the house, his head visibly bobbing where it was above the steering wheel, fingers dancing along the steering wheel. Curiosity got the better of you and you pulled into the sprawling driveway beside him, rolling your window down and looking in until he’d realized he had been caught and lowered the dial on his music.

The window beside you rolled down next, his head leaning over the center console so he could ask, “Need help? Backseat is looking a little full there.”

“We’re gonna pretend I didn’t just see you having your own private concert?”

“Please,” he laughed, turning the car off. Before you could even argue with him about the endless grocery bags, he was already out of his vehicle and heading over to your trunk. “Pop the trunk. You’re not meant to be lifting much anyway.”

“How do you know?” You walked up beside him, unlocking the trunk to reveal the endless bags hidden within.

“Steve gave me one of his dad books to prepare,” he said, lifting some of the heavier bags first. You reached in to grab some of the lighter ones, resting them high on your hip. “I stayed up all night reading up through the fourth month.”

“Eddie, that’s crazy.”

“I wanted to be prepared.” He shrugged, walking beside you up to the house. “Did you know that the baby’s eyes are closed right now, but they move around? Kind of cool, maybe a little creepy.”

“Definitely creepy,” you echoed, a little impressed he’d done all of that as you entered the home and Chrissy came stumbling out, now no longer with Melody in hand. “She finally went down?”

“Yes, thank goodness.” She approached Eddie, taking a couple of bags to lighten the weight loaded in his arms. “Just put everything on the island, I’ll take care of putting it all away.”

The second trip to the car proved different. Eddie noticed immediately the giant box of diapers and bag of baby clothes you’d yet to bring downstairs. Paused as he took in the sight of the tiny clothes, thumb running over a colorful onesie that peeked out of the plastic.

“Here,” he said thickly, lifting the box of diapers in one arm and the bag in the other, “I’ll help you bring them downstairs.”

Exhaling deeply, you closed the trunk and led him to the side entrance to the apartment. Robin had gone out with some friends, leaving the place empty. Eddie whistled as he stepped in, kicking his shoes off near the door, still wet from the snow that had fallen the night before.

“Uhm…where are you sleeping?” he asked out loud, taking in the space. “I mean, I’ve been here before. I know Robin has the bedroom, but where is your stuff?”

“I’m on the pullout couch,” you explained, walking him over, snatching a laundry basket on the way.

Waving an arm out to him, he handed over the bag of clothing and dropped down onto the couch beside you, the diapers already laid out on the kitchen table.

“You’re not serious.” He eyed you as you pulled outfit after outfit from the bag.

“I sleep right here,” you said, nonplussed.

“You can’t,” he stated plainly, voice rising.

“I mean…I can,” you retorted, tossing baby socks into the basket to be cleaned, “and I do.”

“Move in with me.”

Now you were convinced he’d absolutely lost it. The man who you procreated with was losing his mind, because there was no way in hell you’d heard him correctly.

“I can’t move in with you, I don’t even know you.”

“Look — I own a home. It’s not huge or anything, but it’s better than sleeping on a couch. There’s a guest bedroom you could stay in and another bedroom we could turn into a nursery. But you can’t stay here.”

“I was saving up for my own place,” you explained, tossing another item into the bin. “This is fine for right now. I can’t come live with you, take up your space, uproot your quiet. That’s silly, Eddie.”

“It’s not silly,” he argued, reaching into the bag and holding one of the little sleepers in his hands. He marveled for a moment and then shook his head, like he’d remembered something. “I told you I wanted to help out. Don’t you think it would be easier if, I don’t know, the baby woke up in the middle of the night and you had someone else there who could take care of things? I want to be able to bond with my kid too, you know?”

In theory, it sounded nice. The thought of having Eddie down the hall to assist with diaper changes seemed like a dream. An opportunity you hadn’t even imagined possible before bumping into him at the supermarket. And yet, the facts remained the same as they were: Eddie was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger.

“Just…think about it?” he asked softly, “please?”

You thought about it. For about five minutes after Eddie returned upstairs to help Steve fix something with his car. Apparently, when he wasn’t working on music, he maintained a job as a mechanic at the nearby car shop.

It just didn’t seem logical — his whole suggestion. Or, rather, you convinced yourself it didn’t.

Robin, however, seemed to be on Eddie’s side in regards to the whole ordeal.

Traitorous by your standards, and only further complicated your already swirling thoughts.

“I mean, you’ll have an extra set of hands. Someone else to help change diapers. Help with midnight feedings,” she rationalized, trailing off with a grin lining her features, “Plus the two of you probably need to learn to get along for the next eighteen years. That’s a long time, babe. Only way to do that is if you spend time together.”

——

Moving day happened the next weekend. It all seemed crazy when you thought about it. But then again, you hadn’t thought much about it. Your friends had sat around a table with Eddie after dinner on ‘family night,’ and Chrissy had the lovely idea to make a pro-con list.

That pro list didn’t lie, you’d give it that much.

Despite the beginnings of this ‘relationship,’ you were going to need to figure out how best to navigate the next couple months and the foreseeable future if both parties wanted to be involved in the most important person’s life in this situation.

Because when all the pieces had been laid out, despite your innate desire to protect and nurture them, this baby did have two parents.

And both deserved a part in their life — you knew that.

So arrangements were made and you agreed to moving in with the man. Settled on the fact that this was the best option for the baby, as you were not at all inclined to think about that man in any way other than friendship.

Especially not when he’d walked in from (conspiratorially) helping Steve work on his car for a couple days in a row while you waited for moving day, feet up on the couch reading a book, noticing his tee shirt covered in grease, hands the same color, hair pulled back into a ponytail.

It was the hormones, that was all. They were the ones betraying your body, not you. Because in the rational part of your mind, relationships failed. You’d seen it more times than you could count. Loved ones going through a divorce, friends falling in and out of love, your own failed relationships. It wasn’t worth it trying to complicate an already tangled web with feelings. Feelings were fleeting anyway.

The butterflies that kicked up whenever Eddie was near? Fleeting. The way you swore your heart skipped that first afternoon when Steve had helped you unload some of your things on moving day and Eddie entered from the bathroom, shirt pulled up to wipe at his sweaty forehead? Fleeting. The way your insides melted when you perused the living room and kitchen as the guys walked back out to your car to bring in the last of your boxes, only to find his What to Expect When You’re Expecting book perched on his coffee table, and a picture you’d given him from a recent ultrasound on his kitchen? Fleeting, with a capital ‘f.’

Eddie’s home itself was adorable. A small, three bedroom, one bathroom, with one level. The interior was a mix of darker furniture and sparse walls. He’d already agreed that you could spruce things up if you wanted to, and you’d immediately made notes that first day he gave you a tour. You loved the place — from the open plan of the kitchen and dining room, to his bedroom full of music memorabilia and Dungeons and Dragons merchandise (that you definitely teased him about), to your bedroom, with its white walls and olive bedding. There was a tan dresser on the far wall, and a floor to ceiling mirror on the back of the door. Simple, for the time being.

He’d brought you to the additional room next, had smiled at you and leaned an elbow up on the doorframe. “I figure a crib can go on that back wall. The closets are pretty decent sized. Maybe a dresser on the left wall, and the changing table over there. You could probably fit a rocking chair next to the crib, too.”

“Eddie…”

He sounded so hopeful. So expectant of what the future held. Smiled to himself like he could imagine his son or daughter in this room and radiated pride with it.

“We can get paint after we find out what it is.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. Those dark eyes of his met yours. “I know it’s not the biggest, but I think it’s good for now.”

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, brushing at your eyes with the back of your hands, overwhelmed by the thought that in just a few short months your baby would be here, sleeping in this room in this house. “Damn hormones. I am not crying.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he chuckled, moving back down the hall toward the kitchen. “I’m going to start dinner. How do you feel about grilled cheese since we’ve been unpacking all day?”

Maybe you moaned a bit. And maybe Eddie laughed. And maybe you’d actually stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone, but you found yourself hopeful. Excited for the future standing before you, and followed him back down the hall with dreams of gooey cheesy goodness on your mind.

——

The first couple of days proved to be an adjustment. On the first night, you padded into the bathroom, eyes still half-closed, bladder full, and screeched as you fell backward and careened into the toilet bowl.

Eddie sprang up out of bed at your terror, nearly crashing down the door, asking, “What happened? Is something wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“Eddie! Close your eyes, I’m naked!”

“Pretty sure seeing you naked is how we got into this situation.” He clapped a palm over his eyes.

“Do not even go there! You’re on thin ice as it is.”

“Jesus Christ, just tell me what happened, will you?! You scared me half to death.”

“Eddie Munson,” you nearly snarled, snatching a towel from the rack to cover yourself with, “did you leave the toilet seat up?”

“I mean…I may have.”

“Eddie!”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “To be fair, I did live alone for the past five or so years here.”

“I could have drowned.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think, sweetheart?” His lips tugged upward into a grin that made you want to bash your head backwards against the wall. “And I came to your rescue, didn’t I?”

——

The second day brought long hours at work and a special home cooked dinner when you walked in through the front door. The house smelled amazing, like freshly made sauce and spices, mixed with a candle burning on the coffee table in the living room. You kicked your shoes off at the door and dropped your pocketbook on the ground beside them, shouldering off your jacket and placing it on the coat rack.

Eddie turned around as you entered the kitchen, watching as your hands rubbed up and down the sleeves of your sweater, trying to bring back some warmth into your body. He looked…annoyingly handsome. Feathery curls brushing his shoulders as his head bobbed to the music he had filtering through the radio, dark wash jeans, a thin black sweatshirt. An apron was tied around his waist, sitting low on his hips where his shirt had ridden up just enough to reveal the happy trail you knew slipped beyond his boxers.

Annnd now was not a good time to be thinking about Halloween. Not as you stepped up beside him and asked if he needed any help with anything. “You could grab us some drinks. Maybe grab the cheese from the fridge. I think I have everything else all good to go.”

“So you cook?” you mused, walking over to the refrigerator and grabbing two cans of Coca-Cola and the Parmesan.

“Should you be drinking that?”

“I still have food aversions because of your kid,” you said, pointing down for emphasis, “so I will drink whatever I can keep down at the moment. And right now that sounds like Coca-Cola.”

“Point taken.” He nodded, raising the volume a bit on the radio.

It sounded angry. Something metal, you assumed. Curiosity piqued, you asked, “Is this the kind of music you play? It sounds interesting.”

“Yeah. This one is actually ‘Master of Puppets.’ I learned it in a matter of a couple days back in my senior year of high school. Wayne had gotten me the album since I’d been passing all my classes. Was really nice of him.”

“A couple days?” Your elbows leaned onto the counter beside him, listening to the lyrics about obeying your master, and a master of puppets pulling strings. “That’s really incredible.”

“You could watch us play sometime?” Eddie suggested, dialing down the knob on the radio. “I’d…like for you to meet the guys. They’re also in town. We sometimes play smaller gigs at the Hideout. Kind of where we started, back when we were in high school.”

“That would be really cool,” you said, just as Eddie opened the oven and revealed rows of endless garlic bread.

Normally, you’d be over the moon. Ready to consume said garlic bread by the bucket full. But the scent — oh god, the scent had your stomach churning like waves lashing at the hull of a ship. Had your belly tightening, hand coming up to rest over your mouth as you dry heaved into a palm.

Eddie whirled around with the tray in hand and glanced worriedly at your face, feet carrying him closer as he prattled, “Are you okay?”

You held out your other hand in a silent warning of ‘stay back,’ heaving once more into your palm. “Please.”

He tossed the bread onto the stove top and called out your name, but you’d already rushed down the hall and expelled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, grasping onto the porcelain edges for dear life. A second wave crashed over you and you groaned, forehead dropping down against the wall of the shower, the chilly exterior cooling your clammy skin.

Eddie’s head popped in hesitantly as you lay there, curly hair bouncing about his shoulders as he reached around in the medicine cabinet and tossed one of the ginger candies Chrissy had given you by the bucket full, because while her morning sickness had faded after the start of the second trimester, yours had yet to do so.

“Anything I can do?” he asked, dropping down onto the ground, back against the sink cabinets.

“You’ve done enough,” you grumbled, popping the candy into your mouth with one hand, the other running over your midsection to quell the nausea. “I’m so sorry because I know you probably spent ages working on it, and I’m so grateful, but I need you to throw away the garlic bread.”

“No good?” You shook your head and he grimaced apologetically. “Let me go grab you some water and I’ll make sure to vanquish the evil bread before I come back. I’ll let you know when it’s safe, okay?”

You pressed a hand over your heart, feigning a faint. “My hero.”

He smirked, and you hated that fluttering wings stirred in your belly because of it.

——

The third evening brought with it a conversation as you readied for a night out with your friends. Chrissy and Steve had gotten a babysitter, and the two of you decided to meet up with them for some food and drinks at a local restaurant.

It sounded like a double date, and with your life already complicated enough being nearly eighteen weeks pregnant as February grew closer and closer to a close, you needed to make sure Eddie understood your friendship needed to remain the one stable thing in your life.

Because, for all intents and purposes, that was exactly what the two of you were. Roommates and friends. The kind of people who greeted each other after a day of work, maybe shared a bit about their day, ate at the dinner table together, and drifted off to bed separately.

An endless, platonic sleepover — with someone who you just happened to have previously slept with. But that wasn’t happening again; not even with the increased hormones running rampant in your body, insistent on keeping you on edge at nearly all hours of the day.

Luckily for you, the shower stall provided just the perfect sound barrier and proper channel to take care of such…urges, and Eddie remained none the wiser to it.

You could do this. You were doing this.

You found Eddie that evening adjusting the sleeves of his leather jacket in the living room. He’d gone with dark pants, a red shirt beneath, and that signature black leather jacket that should be a crime to society because of how well fitted it was to his body. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, a sparkly earring you’d never noticed before dangling in his ear as you approached.

“Don’t make fun,” you groused, stepping into the living area, “I need to go shopping, my sweaters are getting tighter now.”

You’d worn simple black boots, a pair of your newer jeans, and a cream knitted sweater that maybe only had a few weeks left of use in it.

“You look great,” he reassured. “You always look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You glanced down at your feet, a little bashful, nervousness welling. “And hey — thank you for the past couple of days. I know it has to be weird having me here.”

“It’s different, having another person in the house. But it feels right.”

“I’m really happy that we’re doing this whole…friendship and parenting thing,” you continued, watching the corners of his mouth twitch downward just the slightest. “I just think that’s best for the baby.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked, and you swore you could hear the hurt lining his words.

“Sex complicates things. Obviously, we’ve already learned that,” you began, toying with the ring on his middle finger, “so I think we should keep things friendly. It’ll be better in the long run.”

As in, Halloween was to remain a memory and not something revisited.

“Is that what you think?” He sounded doubtful, but you knew he’d respect it without issue. You’d learned that much in the short while of knowing him.

“Yeah.”

Even though you craved him. Chalked it up to human instinct to want to be nearer to the man, but you pushed it into the caverns of your mind. Locked it away in a box, to remain untouched.

“Then we’ll work on being best friends,” he agreed, stepping forward to loop his arms around your shoulder and tug you in close for a friendly hug, “for the baby.”

——

You found out Eddie wasn’t a fan of spinach in his eggs by the fifth day. You had ended up making extra anyway, and since he was kind enough to cook dinner without even asking most nights, you thought you might do the same. He whistled upon entering the kitchen, face growing pale at the plate you smiled gleefully at when you exclaimed ‘I made you breakfast.”

He still ate them despite your countless protests that he absolutely didn’t have to. Poor guy had grinned at you through what looked like terror in his eyes, swallowing each bite with an emphasized hum of forced pleasure. And damn it he didn’t need to look so good like that, freshly crumpled shirt from bed, bicep reaching up to rub at his neck, revealing dark swirling ink on his limbs, hair in a messy bun at the back of his head since he’d end up pulling it back for work anyway.

“Eddie.” You laughed, pulling your chair closer to the table in the kitchen, stabbing at your own eggs. “You really don’t have to eat them. I just figured you’ve been so kind feeding me literally all week, I wanted to help out a bit. Do my own part around the house.”

He shrugged, popping a blueberry in his mouth. “You really don’t have to. I enjoy cooking. Might not be great at it, but I like it.”

“Yeah, but I want to contribute more,” you explained, chewing at a strawberry and swallowing it down with some water. “You’ve given up two rooms in your home. Maybe I can do some of the chores. Dishes after dinner, laundry — I don’t know.”

His mouth twitched at that, dark eyes rising to meet your own. “Deal.”

“Really? I thought I was going to have to grovel. Seeing as you haven’t let me lift a finger in days.”

“I hate laundry,” he stated plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “you drive a hard bargain, Buttercup.”

“Then great, I’ll start now —”

“Sit down,” he chuckled, hand curling around your forearm before you could rise from the table, hip nearly bumping the corner in your hastiness. “Finish your breakfast. And the water. Please.”

A twinkle gleamed in his eye. Something that made butterflies burst low in your belly. “What is your day looking like?”

“I have work till around four, and then I thought I would invite some of the guys over since it’s Friday. If that’s okay?”

“It’s your home.”

“Yeah, but it’s yours too now.”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Would you want to meet them? I’ve told them about you,” he said, then glanced down beneath the table, “and you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Your back leaned against the wooden chair, a deep exhale falling from your lips. “Do you want to go food shopping together? Get some drinks and snacks?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart.”

——

Laughter filled the home. Loud and boisterous. A sound that had you beaming from ear to ear, shuffling about the kitchen as you familiarized with where Eddie preferred everything to go. Snacks away in the pantry. Cookies easily accessible in another cabinet in case he ever needed one (you didn’t question it). Placed various paper plates and napkins bought for the evening on the kitchen counter, the plastic utensils in a holder beside them, plastic cups face down nearby.

He made quick work of putting everything else perishable in the fridge, making sure to grab what you’d need for the cookies you decided to make. After perusing the aisles together for what felt like hours, the thought jumped to Eddie’s mind to bake.

A perfect bonding moment, he said, and he was right. There was no arguing about the intimacy of baking with one another. A fact made more prominent as he draped his little apron around his hips and grabbed a giant bowl, some mixing utensils, and a baking pan and placed them down in front of you.

While he did that, you rooted around for the ingredients you needed. Vanilla, flour, brown and white sugar, chocolate chips, eggs, cornstarch, salt and the like. The oven was preheated, the pans slicked, and prepped for baking.

Shoulders pressed together as the two of you worked in tandem. Tossing ingredients into a bowl, taking turns mixing, laughing as you accidentally flicked sugar over the lip of the bowl and a streak of white remained in its wake along Eddie’s abdomen. Tongue dipping out to drag along your bottom lip, you steeled your gaze up above, in the bowl, on the task at hand.

In another bowl, Eddie began mixing the flour, baking soda, and salt. Frantically, he’d done it so frantically, with his smirk you’d grown to love lining those perfectly plush lips. Laughter bursted up from deep within you, flour flicking across Eddie’s cheek at the jolt of the sound, his smile spreading wider as you paused in your own mixing and stepped closer to him.

He stilled on the spot, fingers twitching at his sides as your midsection bumped against the harder lines of his abdomen, palm reaching up toward his face.

At his raised brow, you whispered, “Got a little something…right here.”

A low sweep. Your finger arced in a low sweep against his cheek where flour had painted him a ghostly white. Dark eyes trailed your face, over the lines of your mouth, the fullness of your lips — then flickered up to your eyes, and you heard his breath as it faltered.

Cheeks burning, you whirled away, returning to your bowl. “I got it all. Good as new.”

He leaned in closer, bringing both bowls nearer to one another. “We mix the two now. And then it’s the chocolate chips.”

Watching as he did as explained, you reached across the countertop to grab the chocolate chips. Snipped the top edge off the package when Eddie instructed you to do so, and poured the contents within. Before long, you had a perfectly mixed cookie dough, ripe for baking.

“We’re not so bad at this,” Eddie mused once you began spooning small dollops onto the baking sheets strewn about the countertops. “Granted, it’s not parenting. But the working together thing — I think we’ve got it.”

“It’s baking,” you said, wrinkling your nose at his words.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, nudging you with his elbow, “but we communicated through every step, and I think that’ll come in handy.”

“If you’re trying to convince me into thinking you’ll be a good father, you don’t have to,” you said, laughing. “I already know you will be.”

He paused beside you, faltering in his movements, and you wondered if you said something wrong. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you promised, understanding from the look on his face, the nervousness in his eyes, the doubt that there was a deeper conversation to be had here. “You know that too, right? That you’ll be a good father.”

Eddie swallowed, mouth settling into a firm line. “I think I’m still trying to accept that this is happening a little bit. It’s only been a week or so. And I guess it’s probably a little different for me —”

“Because you haven’t seen them?” you asked, recalling at your last doctor’s visit he’d only gotten to hear the heartbeat. His only visual was residing on his refrigerator, in the form of a black and white photo he’d not been present for the taking of. “I feel like…it’s also different because I know they’re there. Always. I haven’t really felt them yet. Maybe a little here and there, but I’m not really sure — I just know they’re there. But you’ll get those moments too, you know? You’ll bond with them, Eddie. They’re going to love you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said softly, a little sadly, placing the baking trays into the oven and setting a timer for the allotted time.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His head perked up, just as you flicked leftover flour at his shirt. “Oh, so it’s going to be like that, huh?”

“Like what?”

Your tone was teasing, light as Eddie backed you up against the counter, his front against yours, him reaching over your shoulder to grab a handful of sugar from an opened container. Heart hammering at his proximity, you allowed yourself a brief moment to relish in the feeling of his form pressed solidly against yours as he sprinkled the dusty sugar over the crown of your head.

“That’s rude, Edward.”

The man reached over your shoulder again and snatched chocolate morsels in his palm, popping one within his mouth. As your head leaned in, body still against the countertop, he took the hint and pressed two against your lips, grinning as your mouth parted just enough to slip them behind your teeth.

Like this, you could feel his breath against your lips. Could see the dark depths of his eyes, the little honeyed flecks that lay within. The dark swirl of his lashes, the arches of his cheeks, the little freckles you hadn’t even noticed the night he’d worshiped your body over and over again, the curve of his bottom lip, the pillowy nature of the top one.

“I’m really happy you —”

Eddie’s words were cut off by the doorbell ringing. Followed up by a swift knock against wood that had you shifting up and away from the counter. Eddie’s hands were there at your biceps to help steady you as your body swayed with the suddenness of your movement.

“That’ll be your friends,” you stated softly, dusting off the remnants of the sugar from your shoulders. “Introduce me, will you? Little nervous here.”

He rubbed at the soft of your shoulder. “Don’t stress about it. They’re gonna love you.”

——

Charmed.

All of his friends were charmed as soon as you’d walked in, holding a tray of various appetizers on a plate and settling them down on the coffee table, smiling prettily and laughing as one by one they’d introduced themselves.

Commented on how beautiful you were, how they couldn’t believe Eddie had ever had a chance, how you were glowing. And damn it, he’d never thought someone prettier than you looked at that moment. You had the room eating out of your palm in minutes, Jeff insisting you join in on the fun, nearly tugging you down onto the couch cushions beside him.

“Careful,” Gareth laughed, tossing a chip in his mouth, “Eddie’s got eyes on the back of his head these days.”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder to shoot a glare Gareth’s way. Noticed as Murphy slowly shifted on the couch as the night went on, as he leaned over and tapped you on the shoulder. Watched as your mouth softened a bit as he apologized, as the words he spoke rolled over the room. That he’d thought it was a terrible ploy when you’d called, that he didn’t mean anything by it, that he could never forgive himself for what he’d done.

When Eddie had gotten home the night he found out he was to be a father, he’d nearly booked another flight back out to California to demand answers.

Instead, the phone call came late at night, Gareth nearly half asleep when he picked up and Eddie growled down the line that someone had to speak up and fast.

Apparently, Murphy had truly thought it was a joke. A prank. Someone trying to foist off a baby on Eddie, just conveniently on the back end of their band appearing in the news as rising stars to watch, to try and obtain some money or notoriety. He’d been doing it out of ‘protection’ and to some degree he understood because of situations in the past and with other bands they’d seen in the business, but on the other he’d been robbed of time.

Precious time that had hurt you in the end. For two months you’d lived with the hurt and sting of rejection — with the thought he had wanted you to do this alone. That this was your cross and yours alone to bear. He hated that. Resented it because it reminded him of his late mother’s face, of the sadness she bore when his father had finally walked out and left them high and dry.

Murphy had cried, because he hadn’t known. Hadn’t known it was the same girl from the party. The fucker had cried and Eddie wanted to hate him, wanted to yell, wanted to shout because of it all — but he couldn’t. Because he pictured that little profile of a face on that black and white picture he’d tucked away in his coat jacket, he pictured your smiling face, closed his eyes and thought of that damn heartbeat and he knew he couldn’t.

Wayne raised him better. Wayne. When everyone else had walked out on him, his uncle remained.

But then you had to go and crush his heart further by leaning over and folding your hand over his bandmates, before dragging him closer for a tight hug, forgiving him.

It was hard being friends with you, harder living with you, when you just continued to do things like that. Loved those around you deeply, openly, even though you kept him at a distance.

Kept what he represented at a distance.

And he understood. Understood that with him it was different, the stakes were higher, there were other parties involved. It never stopped the wishing, the wanting, the waiting and wondering though. The ‘what ifs’ that kept him up at night, when you’d long since shut your bedside lamp, shrouding your side of the hall in darkness. But he respected your desires to keep things friendly for the sake of the unborn child. Understood that if this was what you thought best, he’d put aside his own feelings for the betterment of yours.

So for now he watched as his friends crowded around you. As they welcomed you with open arms into the band, as Jeff mentioned you should come over and meet his wife, June, and have dinner over their place soon. As Gareth invited you (overriding the fact Eddie was still Dungeon Master) to their next planned night (he wanted to ask you anyway). As Murphy waited on you hand and foot, making sure you never had to get up for the duration of the movie you all ended up watching, there with snacks and water at the ready.

And later, as the guys left and you fell asleep with your head on the armrest of the couch, Eddie tried to squash down the ache that formed in his chest when he rubbed your shoulder and your eyes fluttered open, your mouth rounding into a yawn, before settling on his dark stare.

Tried to suppress the affection that bubbled up as he helped you to your feet with a hand around yours, the furrow of your brow as you tugged a pillow close to your chest, the soft shuffle of your slippers against the carpeted floor as you both walked down the hall to your bedrooms.

“Goodnight,” you muttered with a soft wave.

It was a punch to the gut, the way you smiled at him in the night, the lamplight spilling into the hall shrouding you in a golden halo.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He waved back and you turned in for the night, darkness shrouding your end of the hall.

He remained awake for hours.

——

A few days turned into another week.

You entered your nineteenth of pregnancy, tossed some clothes that no longer fit into a bin in your closet, and made room for newer things.

Life with Eddie became almost natural. An extension of what you’d known before with Robin. You came home every day to a cooked meal or takeout with him, shared about your days, watched movies and read books together, and slipped away at the end of the night. Every night.

He was easy to live with. Mostly cleaned up after himself (except for the hair he’d left to sit on the inside of the shower curtain some days and the numerous pots and pans he left out whenever cooking). But he’d been a perfectly wonderful roommate, and an even more caring friend.

You supposed part of that was the fact that, because you were growing his kid, he wanted to make sure you were both taken care of. Always asking if you needed snacks for the work day, if you’d drank enough water, gotten enough sleep.

Already concerned, and endearingly so.

A hum spilled from your lips. A familiar Madonna tune playing from the shoddy radio Eddie kept in the laundry room, connected to the garage. A laundry basket sat propped on one hip, as your hands reached down into the washing machine to pluck whites from within.

With a wrinkled brow, you held aloft one of Eddie’s white work tees. Now an interesting pink color, tinged like the numerous other shirts and socks strewn within. The further you dug, the more you found. A onesie for the baby, once white, now pink. One of your tank tops. The edges of some of your socks.

The culprit? A red pair of his boxers, tossed deep within the washing machine, the same color of rubies. A huffed breath spilled from you, laundry basket propped up on the drying machine before you slipped back down the hall from where you came and entered the living room.

He lay sprawled out on the couch, watching a movie, a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips. His top half was covered in a black tee, and over that one of his red plaid shirts, which resembled that same pair of boxers you’d come to reprimand him about, caught up in the disarming sight that was always Eddie Munson.

That increasingly familiar head of dark hair shifted where his head lay propped against a couch cushion. Dark eyes framed by long lashes lifted to meet yours, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled up at you, holding aloft a bag of your favorite wavy potato chips.

He knew you’d been craving them and bought a few bags on the way home from work. Damn him for always knowing. A hand reached into the bag and pulled out a few, mouth watering around the salty goodness before you once again remembered why you’d come out of the laundry room to find him.

“Eddie, dearest.”

“Yes?” He lifted himself up at that, waving you over to settle down beside his hip on the couches. “Why do you have that look in your eye?”

“I get a look in my eye?”

“Yeah, it’s the ‘she’s going to kill someone’ look,” he explained, and it gave you pause, brow arching, “hey, hey. I can see that little wrinkle above your brow — don’t be upset with me now, sweetheart. You don’t do it often but I’ve seen it before. Like the other day when I used the last of the milk for my cereal.”

“Yeah, because you used the last of it on your second bowl when I hadn’t gotten any,” you said, brows furrowing higher on your forehead, “but I wasn’t really mad. I was just hungry — and I, well I — are you trying to say you think I’m mean?”

“Oh no. No no no,” he murmured, gathering your shoulders in his arms, tugging you into an embrace that you definitely didn’t protest. As your face pushed into his chest, you sighed, eyes on the television ahead, that extremely hormonal sadness roiling in your gut. “I know that look too. I don’t want you to be sad and cry over it. I’m only joking. What did I do? Be mad at me instead. Just don’t wanna see you cry; I hate that.”

“Left a pair of red boxers in the washer when I was doing whites,” you grumbled into his warm skin. “All our whites are now pink. Even the little baby clothes.”

He gasped, “Not the little baby clothes!”

“Edd-ie.” A whine spilled from you and he chuckled, the abruptness of his laugh jolting your head. A sniffle shook your form and Eddie hugged you tighter. “Gosh, I’m so backwards. Morning sickness? Supposed to be gone by now for most people, and I still have it. Crying at the drop of a hat in the first trimester? Try the second too. Whoever said this whole thing was beautiful hasn’t met me.”

“Hey now.” Eddie shifted you on his chest, finger tipping your chin up to look at the ridiculously goofy grin he had on. “Don’t be mean to my friend, okay? I happen to think she’s pretty fucking great. And she’s beautiful. Plus she’s making this whole growing a literal human thing look like a walk in the park.”

“You mean it?” Your head wiggled up along his chest, rumpling the fabric of his shirt, stopping at his collarbone.

“There are many things people have called me through the years, but I don’t think liar is one of them,” he said, and the sincerity lacing his tone had you easing against his chest, watching the people move about on the television screen. “Come on now. Grab that blanket and watch the movie with me. We can always get new stuff, don’t stress yourself out over my silly mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

Lifting long enough to grab the blanket in question, you reached over and draped it over both your thighs, head looming above where it had been against his collarbone. Eyes searched his face imploringly and he tucked you back down against him, exhaling deeply as you laid there, warmth seeping into his skin, the comforting weight of you against him welcomed there.

Friends cuddled, right? And you were great friends with Eddie Munson.

“What movie is this anyway?” you asked, reaching over for the VHS box settled near his opposite thigh. “Star Wars? What’s that?”

Eddie tensed. “Are you telling me you’ve never seen these? Am I about to take your Star Wars virginity?”

A giggle bursted free from your lips, hand coming to rest over his sternum, rubbing idly. “I’m kidding.”

“I was going to say we needed to fix that and have a full marathon. My kid is getting fed Star Wars even before they’re born.”

“We could still have a marathon,” you suggested, nuzzling deeper into his skin, body relaxing further. “It’s raining, I’m just doing laundry. Perfect day for it.”

He grinned to himself, ringed fingers coming to rest at the top of your head. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Now shh, I hate talking during movies.”

“Oh so he’s one of those. Filing that one away for later,” you teased, wincing as he flashed a glare your way.

But he smiled at you right after, and you didn’t know what to do about the stutter in your pulse that followed shortly behind.

——

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader

[withahappyrefrain]

BOB FLOYD CODED

YES IT IS. It's also Bob with a confident woman coded, which I absolutely love.

It was cute how he tried to blend in with the background. His seat may have been in the corner, but his tall broad frame made him stand out. Unlike his friends, he was quiet, occasionally joining in on the conversation, though quite content to just listen and watch.

He was adorable and God, did you want him.

So when his friends got up to go play pool and sing by the piano, you swooped in. His bright blue eyes widened as he took you in, like a deer in headlights.

"H-hello," his voice was deep with a slight rasp to it. You couldn't tell the location of his accent, but it was definitely rural.

Had the Navy not worked out, he could make a killing recording audiobooks.

"Hi handsome," you smiled as you gently pushed a dark blonde curl away from his forehead, "How ya doing?"

"I'm uh, good!" He cleared his throat, trying to maintain some composure, "Just to let you know, the blonde is engaged and like head over heels in love with her. Basically she worships her. The guy playing piano is free, but he's not ready for a relationship, or a one night stand. The girl next to him is open if you're open. If not, you can go for Javy, he's the one who is-"

"Why are you telling me all of this?" You asked, moving so that you were standing in between his legs. The newly close proximity allowed you to take in the scent of his cologne.

"I, uh," he tried scooting backwards, only to hit the wall, "Isn't that why you're here?"

He thought you were here to get information on his friends, not him.

How cute.

You simply shook your head, leaning forward, "I'm here for you handsome. What's your name?"

"B-Bob," his eyes widened again, "Wait, you're here for, for me?"

The idea of being the one a beautiful stranger would go after was foreign to Bob. Usually it was anyone else in his friend group. He was used to being the one that folks would go to in order to get information about someone else. This was a change.

Not that he minded.

In fact, Bob liked it. A lot.

Once the initial shock had worn off, he found himself easily able to strike up a conversation with you. He was so expressive, using his large hands and big eyes to help tell his stories. You found Bob quite knowledgeable, but never cocky. He was born in Montana and raised there until he was ten, when his family moved to California as his dad was part of the Navy, which explained his accent.

Inexperience wasn't his problem. It was just when he was out with his friends, who were stereotypically attracted, Bob tend to got lost in the mix of things.

A true shame, even though it was greatly benefiting you.

"I love your voice," You murmured against his ear, breath hot on his skin.

"You-really?" Bob squeaked, trying not to focus on how soft your skin felt against his, or the sweet scent of your perfume.

You giggled, the noise sweeter than any song Bob had ever heard, "Yeah. Love how deep it is. Could listen to it all day."

"I uh, that's uh, really nice of ya to say," His voice was shaky as your attention to him made Bob remember what was happening. A beautiful stranger went up to talk, wanted to talk to him, wanted to hear him.

On the other hand, you just simply smiled. He was so cute, having no idea what kind of effect he had on you.

Perhaps it was time to let him know.

Your lips trailed down to his neck, the scent of his aftershave absolutely addicting.

The grip he had on your hips increased, fingernails digging into the soft fabric of your shirt.

"Yeah? Could say the same about you darlin." His voice was lower, purposely so, as he cooed in your ear, "Your voice is so pretty, I've been wondering what other noises you can make with it."

So he could play the game after all.

You could too.

Gently, you lifted one left, raising it up and towards his lap. To distract him, you began peppering his jawline with kisses as you continued to direct your lifted knee closer and closer to his crotch.

While Bob's sharp gasp audibly let you know you reached your desired destination, you didn't need the sound to know.

You could feel him.

It's always the quiet ones.

Bob's fingers dug into the soft fabric of your skirt, willing himself to not moan on the stop, trying to remind him how awkward it would be to explain to his parents why he was honorably discharged from the Navy.

So instead, he pulled your hips towards him, practically closing the space between your bodies.

Gone was that sweet, yet unsure smile. In it's place was a confident smirk, that made your thighs clench.

When he stood up from his seat, it was then you realized how tall he truly was. Not that you minded.

"Why don't we go somewhere a little more private," His voice was seductively low against your skin, "I'm not into sharing."

#my writing #Bob Floyd #Robert Bob Floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #Bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x you #robert floyd fic

[lowgothree]

003. ༺RED HANDED༻∘

a/n: i hate this chapter tbh but i'm excited for the next one 👀

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is down bad. paige in a situationship. kinda angsty. this chapter is from paige is pov but it's not in first person if that makes sense 😭😭

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

it’s not weird being this attracted to someone in such close proximity to you. is what paige thinks every time she sees you. after your little late night interrogation a week ago, paige has started to see you differently. it’s an almost out of body experience for her considering she’s never allowed herself to stray too far away from olivia. normally, when she starts to develop these minor feelings for another person she’d just distance herself from them…but that’s kind of hard to do when you live with them.

“i swear you’re never paying attention to anything ever…” azzi chuckles in paige’s direction, shaking her head at the confused look paige gives her. paige is sitting on her gaming chair but it’s faced away from her entertainment system, towards the bed where azzi is laying.

“my fault.” paige clears her throat and shakes her head as if she’s trying to shake away her thoughts. thoughts of you. “what were you saying?”

azzi just stares at paige for a few moments before saying. “is it olivia…again?”

she rolls her eyes and grumbles. “the world does not revolve around olivia.” she says it slowly. like if the words left her mouth with enough conviction, even she could believe them. it doesn’t work.

azzi laughs again. “okay, sure, but your world kinda does…i mean, if she asks you to jump you’ll say how high.”

okay, maybe that’s true… it's definitely true. but even then, it wasn’t like paige relies on olivia.

“sometimes it kinda feels like you rely on her.” azzi continues making paige sigh to herself.

about a year ago, paige met olivia at the library. she was the first and only girl she had been with after she realized she also liked girls. at the beginning, all they really did was talk. about anything. everything. paige told her all the things she’d never told anyone before: her insecurities, dreams, feelings about the little things…and olivia always listened. with rapt attention. paige appreciated how it never felt like she judged her for any of the shit she told her, she just listened and understood and that felt like magic. she had been chasing that feeling for months now but to no avail. maybe that’s why she stays. a foolish part of her feeling like eventually she could get that feeling back.

“you’re annoying…” she mumbles and azzi chucks a pillow at her.

“i’m not wrong though…”

paige opens her mouth to reply but pauses when she gets a call. olivia.

azzi snickers again, shrugging as if to say ‘point proven’ when paige immediately picks up the phone. she gives her friend a pointed look as if to say ‘shhh’. putting the phone to her ear, she mumbles hello softly but guarded –– preparing for either apologies aplenty or immediate hostility considering that they haven’t spoken since their argument last week which caused olivia to stomp out of the apartment.

“why haven’t you called me?” olivia mutters dryly on the other line, paige shuts her eyes and sighs. immediate hostility it is.

“i just thought you wanted space…”

“what? so you can spend extra time with your little ‘roommate’? no way.” 

paige practically flinches at the mention of you. unsure of why the very thought of you gives her goosebumps. it felt like time stopped. as if paige had a moment to process not only olivia’s words but her reaction to them. she clears her throat before continuing.

“oh my god, how many times do i have to tell you it’s not like that, liv!” paige begins to get frustrated at the girl on the other line. feeling herself get defensive as soon as she hears how upset olivia is. azzi puts her airpods in as she tries to ignore the impending argument.

“then what is it like?!”

“she’s my roommate.” paige stresses over the phone, groaning as she speaks. ever since olivia found out you liked women, she’s been overly jealous at the amount of time paige spends in your presence. “that’s all.”

“liar.” olivia scoffs, the simple word is spoken gently but it’s duplicitous. the tenderness of it only meant to mask the true emotion behind it in hopes of getting a genuine answer. only meant to hide the anger.

“what — “

“you’re attracted to her.”

that brings paige pause. she didn’t expect olivia to notice. that got her wondering if it was obvious. was olivia just being jealous per usual or did she actually know. could everyone tell? could you?

“oh? nothing to say now?” olivia spits out, venom laced words mumbled bitterly through the phone and bleeding out of the speaker into paige's ear. it’s whiplash. she gives paige fucking whiplash. going from yelling to gentleness to calm to anger.

“liv…” she sighs. “you’re being crazy again.” 

wrong thing to say…

“crazy?!” she shouts again making paige roll her eyes. 

then it stops. all the shouting and the malice. it melts down until all that remains is a monotone voice which scared paige far more than any of the yelling or mood swings ever did. “so you’re denying that you’re attracted to her?”

paige swallows, not wanting to hesitate but not sure of exactly how to respond. the obvious answer was to lie and say no ––– claim that olivia, who didn’t even want to date paige,  was the only one she wanted. but then she let her thoughts slip to images of her telling the truth. saying yes. ending things with olivia. it almost felt too freeing. like discovering uncovered territory, new and open and terrifying. would it make her happier? that question brought paige pause too and that’s what scared her the most. the what if. so no matter how good it might feel to admit the truth…she goes with the safe choice. 

“of course i’m not.” it’s a blatant lie. purely for survival. 

then came the scariest sound paige hears. far worse than the screaming or the monotone: silence. olivia’s silence means…

“you know what? i’m done.” 

“baby, what?” paige rushes out, eyes widening as her heart starts to beat frantically. 

“we’re done.”

#rock the boat! #paige bueckers x reader

[magici-if]

Attention, viewers. The following program contains content suitable for mature audiences aged 16 and above. Viewer discretion is advised.

[DEMO COMING SOON][FAQ] [RO ASKS MASTERPOST]

MAGICI: WORLDSTAR INTRO POST

A flyer falls at your feet.

Ever wanted to become the best mage in the world? Ever wanted to become famous while at it?

Well, according to this flyer, by applying for this magic academy-turned-talent show, you can.

A chance to develop your magic affinities, get a free higher education from a renowned academy, meet people from all over the world, win the grand prize of 300 000 kubos , AND become mindblowingly famous?

Sign-me-up.

Friends, mentors, rivals, lovers? In the end, the top only has space for one.

Will you be the one standing there?

But more importantly, what will you do to get there?

Find the answers to these questions and more in the third season of:

Magici: Worldstar - Where dreams become Magic.

A ✧ Spellbound ✧ Entertainment© Production

APPLICATIONS NOW CLOSED. CATCH US ON CHANNEL 4!

In a world where magic is alive and widespread, you're one of the few lucky ones who can say they have actual powers instead of the weak energy most people possess. That's because you've had your Awakening, the extraordinary event in which that fragile energy becomes magic.

Unfortunately, Magic Academies are expensive and hard to get into, so you've never had the resources to truly hone your powers.

That changes when you find out that one of the most famous and respected magic academies in the world, Magici Academy, is letting anyone* apply.

How? By joining the famous magic talent show, Magici: Worldstar, you get a free education at the Academy. The catch? Every week, you risk being eliminated**, effectively shattering the dream of a lifetime.

Will you excel, or will you be eliminated, perhaps by the viewers or because you weren't on par with your fellow contestants?

*(See full requirements at MagiciWorldstar.com)

**Continued enrolment subject to Academy approval.

KEEP READING FOR FEATURES AND ROS.

Fully design your MC: pick your magic affinity, tv persona, gender identity, pronouns, sexuality, name, fashion style, personal goals, body mods, and many more!

Pick who gets eliminated by answering to polls!

Romance one of 6 ROs, or pursue casual flings

Will you focus on honing your magic, getting your grades up, winning the talent show, or simply charming the viewers?

Will you learn to control your powers, or succumb in this new and stressful environment?

Affect how the viewers, teachers, teammates, judges, and fellow students perceive you.

Affect how well your team does in the talent show, as well as the relationships between your teammates

Possibly win a talent show and get crazy rich and famous

Become the viewers' sweetheart... or a pain in the ass ^^

Play matchmaker with your class-/teammates ❤︎

❤︎ Romantic Options:

[RO appearances here] (not a rickroll this time I swear)

Martin: He comes from a long lineage of strong mages. Always the family's black sheep, he seeks to make his family proud and finally show them he's worthy of his last name. A gentle but intimidating giant, he doesn't want to get too close to his fellow contestants, can you break down his walls?

Tropes: Stoic, Slow-Burn, Forced Proximity, Roommates, Afraid to Commit, Idiots in Love

Demetra: This one is a mystery. Your brother's best friend, whom you've seen walking around your home since you were a teenager; however, she never made an effort to get to know you. When you see her at the Academy, you realise you know nothing about who she is. She says her only motivation to be on the show is knowledge, but will you show her she can find something other than that?

Tropes: Rivals to Lovers, Brother's Best Friend, Idiots in Love, Everyone Can See It

Evander: Evander is a gifted individual with a big talent for magic, but he's lazy. The definition of "He's smart but he doesn't apply himself", he could care less about being in the academy. Their family has managed to force convince them to be on the show, the fame and money a big incentive. What they secretly hope is that he'll come home as a new person and grow up. You won't fix them, but you can sure seduce them. ;)

Tropes: First Love, Fish Out of Water, Oblivious to Love, Pining

Harley: A social butterfly, it seems somehow she's already friends with everyone at the Academy. Growing up around musicians made her love for music grow, as well as awaken her powers. She joined the show to make important connections and to get her name out there both as a talented musician and a powerful mage. Will you be just another friend for her or will you become her muse? 𝄞

Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Soft Love, Roommates, Idiots In love, Mutual Pining

Echo: Echo is extremely shy and often lost in her own thoughts. Her unique powers make her an intimidating rival and a strong teammate. However, she joined the show for a specific reason: she seeks to learn more about her unusual affinities. Other than that she hasn't really been interested in getting to know anyone. Maybe you'll be the exception and get to know the real Echo. ❤︎

Tropes: Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Idiots In Love, Strangers to Lovers, Hesitant, Crush on MC

Dominic: He is one of the judges at Magici: Worldstar, as well as a professor at the Academy. He is just another judge, and you're just another contestant. Nothing to see here. :)

Tropes: Forbidden Love, Fell In Love with The Wrong Person, Lovers in Denial

possible flings 👀 Other contestants:

Bleon: They already have a reputation as a prankster around the Academy, having competed in Magici: Worldstar's first season. Loved by the student body, hated by the professors, but you'll be sure to like this menace.

Bruno: A shy but friendly presence in your team, he looks forward to getting to know you. After a quick conversation, you already know he aspires to become a respected landscape engineer by perfecting his ability to build and shape landscapes.

Brynn: She aspires to become a Nature Guardian, and to preserve harmony between humans and nature. It is slightly interesting then, that she seems to dislike you the moment she sets her eyes on you.

Chianti: He holds a little secret. Well, not anymore, 'cause I'm about to tell you. He's just had his Awakening, a mere few months before his admission to the show. Will you help him develop his affinities or turn the other way, until he gets eliminated?

Nora: After losing her father to a magic-related incident, she understands that even the strongest healers can't save themselves. She dreams of becoming a mage healer, but also a Guardian, thanks to her rare affinity combination.

Rahim: A disciplined and focused mage, no one in his family has had an Awakening. He hopes he'll be able to get far in the show or to at least stay long enough to develop his powers.

[DEMO COMING SOON... STAY TUNED]

ATTENTION VIEWERS: THE INFORMATION PROVIDED ABOVE IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE AS THE PROJECT "MAGICI: WORLDSTAR" IS A WORK IN PROGRESS.

✧ Magici: Worldstar is a contemporary fantasy romantic drama IF, a first part to the Magici series.✧ Reblogs/asks are crazy appreciated !!

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