#so I think I messed up my friendship with a mutual? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 1 month

Text

ruined.

LN x fem!reader - 4k celebration

based on this request!

in which, why wouldn’t they fall in love?

back with another celebration request! thank u anon, love this one sm! so tempted to make something longer form outta this one omg... lemme know what you think of this, hugs hugs hugs

i had to reupload this! sorry if you already interacted :(

songs to set the mood: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas, you are in love by taylor swift, sofia by clairo, till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas

warnings: 18+!! minors go away dni!! smut, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, voyeurism? kinda? friends to lovers, mutual pining

3.4k words

“i bring gifts!” you call out, throwing the keys on the side. you shuffle your feet against the doormat, awkwardly balancing the bottle of wine you hold in one hand and the box of pizza in the other. it doesn’t help that you feel like the michelin man, bundled up in a jacket and a scarf. you kick off your boots, leaving them haphazardly in the hallway.

“in the kitchen.” lando shouts back, and you trudge towards the sound of his voice, sliding around in your fluffy socks.

“i hate all of those stupid little cars that everyone in monaco seems to drive.” you tut, sliding the pizza box across the counter, the bottle of wine clinking against the granite.

“even my jolly?” lando pouts. he’s waiting with two wine glasses, even though you’ll drink most of the merlot while he scrunches his nose up in distaste, but this is routine, standard procedure.

“i do miss the jolly, to be fair.” you give him that much, grinning playfully.

five minutes later, your coat and scarf are long forgotten, slung over one of the high chairs that line his breakfast bar. you’re in the living room, sprawled on one end of the couch, him on the other. your feet rest in his lap and the pizza box rests across your knees. some series you’ve been trying to watch for weeks is playing on netflix, but you aren’t really paying much attention.

“so, you’re telling me,” you pause to take another bite of pizza, swallowing between giggles, “you’re telling me that you heard oscar through the wall?” you choke.

“yeah, i’m telling you! little oscar is definitely not… little, from what i heard.” he cackles. “and then afterwards, bless them, they were all dishevelled and he would not make eye contact with me.” lando explains, both of you a mess of giggles.

“oscar piastri, what a minx.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“as if that’s what i needed, by the way! the dry spell was not helped by whatever him and lily were getting at.”

“dry spell? you? don’t lie to me, norris.” you kick him gently.

“what? i’m serious! start of the season has been so busy, haven’t had time to… get busy.” he wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes.

“welcome to my world, you prick.” you tease, kicking him again. you catch his ribs as you do, knowing full well you’ve hit the prime tickle spot.

“what’s your excuse?”

“excuse you, i’m a busy gal! we can’t all be famous jet-setting f1 drivers.” you feign offence, and he grins toothily.

“i meant,” he starts, speaking slowly as if you’re stupid, and for a third time, you kick him, a tad harder than the last two times. “you’re a catch, how are you not getting laid?”

you pray he can’t see the way you’ve gone pink.

truthfully, he’s the damn reason. how can any man live up to the one and only lando norris? how can anyone compare to your best friend? world famous, beautiful, down right hilarious, beautiful!

lando’s the guy that picks up the pieces every time some loser breaks your heart. he’s the guy who’s key you keep on your overflowing keychain, the guy who buys duplicates of the skincare products you use, so you can keep them at his place - you still laugh every time you remember the first time he tried to pronounce salicylic acid. he’s basically your guy, but after 10 years of friendship, you’re not willing to tell him that.

“just… not.” you shrug, tucking your hair behind your ear. he hums in response, sounds like he doesn’t believe you, but he drops it.

you sink three glasses of red, the pizza box is on the floor, and your eyes are drooping, heavy.

“bedtime for you, methinks.” lando whispers, gently shifting your feet from his lap. you frown, missing his touch already. you make grabby hands at him, too comfy to move on your own. “want me to carry you?” you nod lazily, a smile stretching across your face.

he slides one hand under your legs, the other under your back, and hoists you up. he holds you close to his chest, your head resting against his heart, so close that you can hear the soft thrum that keeps him warm.

“thank you.” you murmur as he places you softly on your- his guest bed.

“anytime, honey.” he smiles down at you. he thinks you’re so pretty like this, so sleepy and cosy. he fights the demons that tell him to crawl into the empty space beside you. “there’s some water here, sleep well, love.” he walks away, reaching the door when:

“love you.” you coo. he shivers. you always say it, and he always says it back, but lately, it pains him.

“yeah. love you too.”

lando pulls the door to quietly, leaning against the wood for a moment trying to compose himself.

it’s been an hour, and you’re sobered up, wide awake in the dark.

you try to fall asleep, really, you do, but your mind is moving a thousands miles an hour, and all you can think about is his dry spell. your dry spell.

how can you sleep when you know he’s on the other side of the wall, as needy as you are for a warm body. you also know that you’ve soaked through your underwear. you’re wildly uncomfortable, restless, desperate for a sweet release, whether that be of sleep, or something else.

you can’t ask him, it would be a step too far, despite how torturously close you already are. so instead, you drive yourself insane with the thought of him; the image of him, head thrown back, slick and sweaty, cock hard in his hand.

what’s the harm in helping yourself out?

you’re throbbing, hot all over. you lose the war with yourself and your hand trails shamelessly down your body. you’re so sensitive that you’re instantly stifling moans, hand slapped over your mouth. you can’t get the earlier image out of your head, and you pray he’s on the other side of the wall thinking about you. you’re desperate, bucking your hips into your hand, aching for a release. you wish your hands were lando’s, big and rough, toying with every quivering part of you.

you have an idea, a twisted one, the kind that almost sends you over the edge. what would happen if you let yourself be as loud as you wanted, if you tore your hand away and cried out like you wanted to? every shred of rationality leaves your needy body.

you’re whining, clear as day. your resist calling out his name as your high builds, tweaking your clit between your fingers. you’re so dangerously close, hovering right on the edge. that’s when you hear it.

on the other side of the wall, your vision of lando has become a reality. your faint whines through the wall have him rock hard, fucking his own hand. he wishes it could be yours, and with the way you’re crying out, he doesn’t think you’d oblige to sitting on his lap, wet and pretty, and letting him sink his cock nice and deep.

but he can’t cross that line. not with you. it doesn’t matter how badly he wants you, how he’d go to the ends of the earth for you. one night wasn’t worth ten years of friendship, washed down the drain.

his hand speeds up, his head thrown back, at the same time as you slip two fingers inside of yourself. you fingers curl, hitting deep when you hear a throaty groan sounding from the other side of the wall.

you’d think a millionaire would have thicker walls.

he hears the exact moment you cum, a noticeable change in your sounds. they’ve gone up an octave, breathless, and before he can even register, he’s spurting thick white ribbons that land hotly on his skin.

you clean yourselves up, rooms apart but the same exact things running through your minds.

i just got off to the sound of my best friend.

you nibble the crusts of your toast. the kitchen is quiet, painfully so, and the air is still.

lando has his back to you, making you another cup of coffee. he’s forgone a shirt and you try your absolute best to ignore the warm glow of his skin. he looks radiant. you know why; orgasms can do that.

“lando-“

“we don’t need to talk about it, honey.”

“um, i was just gonna tell you that you’re burning your toast.” you snicker.

“oh, fuck.” he slides along the floor to the toaster, burning his fingers on blackened bread.

when he turns to you, he’s tinged red, grinning bashfully.

“moving on.”

“i need to get home but dinner later? i won’t stay the night.” you wink. you crave the normalcy that once was, the light, teasing nature of your friendship.

“i’ll cook.” he’s still blushing.

“ooh, on second thought.” you suck air through your teeth, pulling a face.

“get outta here.” he sticks his tongue out at you.

dinner was… well, it was edible.

he made spaghetti and some kind of sauce, one that you couldn’t quite work out the contents of but it was good enough.

“thanks, lan.” you smile softly, helping him clear the few plates off the table.

“anytime, honey.” he replies.

you’re standing at the sink, placing the cutlery down when you feel him behind you. you spin around, instantly regretting it, because you’re caged in. he’s leaning up to reach into a cupboard, frozen. so, so close. his panicked breath fans your face and you can feel the heat of his body.

you lean in, because why wouldn’t you? and so does he, so, so close. your hand that rests on the edge of the sinks moves so that you can reach out and cup his disgustingly perfect face but then-

a knife that had been hovering between the counter and plunging into the soapy hot water gets nudged over the edge by your clumsy hand and clatters against into the bowl.

the irritating noise springs you both back to reality and he jumps away like an orange cat. you grimace at the awkward tension, and he scratches the back of his neck. and then you’re laughing, hard, and of course he joins in because this situation is utterly ridiculous and your laugh is so beautifully contagious.

“oh my god, what is wrong with us?” you wheeze through the laughter, leaning back against the counter.

“last night was… insane. and now everything feels weird so, let’s just go back to basics.” lando smiles gracefully. you nod.

“that sounds absolutely perfect.”

“netflix?”

“and chill?” you chime in sarcastically. he glares at you. “couldn’t help it.” you hold your hands up in faux surrender.

you don’t know when you fall asleep, but you conk out, head lulling against his shoulder when you do.

he haunts your dreams, fingers thick between your thighs while you whimper his name. you must be out of it, so deep in your slumber that it takes lando a good few coos of your name to draw you out of it.

when your eyes shoot open, he’s looking down at you, a single curl falling over his forehead, taunting you.

“you dreaming of me?” he grins, something in his eyes that snaps you out of your grogginess.

“wh-why?” you splutter, sitting up. he’s still so close to you, coy smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips,

“kept making these little sounds, panting my name. got me thinking.”

“about what?” you whisper.

“how much i wanted to pin you to that bed last night and make you cry for me.”

“is this gonna ruin us?” your voice trembles with a unique blend of fear and anticipation.

“after last night? baby, we’re already ruined.”

his lips meet yours, tentative for just a brief second, and then it’s passionate, warm, lightning. his hands are firm on your body, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s no other option but to clamber into his lap. your hands find his hair, tugging wildly until his curls are a disheveled mess, pulled every which way.

“you’re so beautiful. want to tell you all the time but-“ lando mumbles into your mouth, urgent and hushed.

“but friends don’t do that.” you cut him off.

he pulls away from you, his nose bumping yours. his eyes are so blue today, sparkly.

“i think we’re more than that.” he mutters, lips brushing yours. “i think we have been for a while.”

“yeah.” you pant. “yeah we have. yeah.” your eyes dart between his and his kiss swollen lips.

and then you’re licking into his mouth, sighing at the relief. he paws at your waist, warm hands sliding under your jumper, gliding over your hips and up, up, up, until he’s dragging the material over you head and tossing it carelessly to the side. he kisses over your collarbone, licking and nipping while his hands smooth over your bra. he plucks at the fasten, and you relax as it snaps open, and the straps slide over your shoulders.

“is this okay, angel?” he whispers.

“perfect.”

his thumbs trace over the curve of your breasts, teasing your nipples gently, enough to send shockwaves through your body. you’re subconsciously grinding down on him, dragging your hips over his crotch, mouth dropping open when you hear the way his breath catches in his throat.

“driving me insane, honey.” he gulps, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “need to get inside of you.”

“hurry up then.” you sound desperate to your ears, delicious to his.

“do you know how hard it was to stay in my room last night? when i could hear you making those pretty little noises? you’re so bad.” he tuts, lifting you off of his lap and laying you back against the couch.

nimble fingers undo your jeans and you jolt as he slides them down your thighs, intimate touches on intimate skin. you lace your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, and you moan into his open mouth when his fingers trail beneath your underwear.

lando dips his fingers between your folds, groaning as soon as he feels where your wetness has pooled in your panties. you’re intoxicating, he thinks, and he’s starving for you. he pries his hand from between your legs, lapping at his soaked digits. his eyes fall shut, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks.

your taste sparks something within him, and he wriggles onto his belly, resting in between your thighs. he toys with your panties, just for a second, and he can’t help but latch on. he laves his tongue over the growing wet patch, eyes fluttering shut. he drags your underwear to the side, lapping over your cunt messily.

“taste so good.” he slurs into your pussy, depraved and ravenous. you buck your hips, the sensation of his words sending rumbles of vibrations to every one of your nerve endings.

you writhe against the plush couch, sinking deeper between the cushions as he fucks his tongue deeper and deeper, burrowing his face as far between your thighs as he can go.

“lando, ‘m so close.” you gasp, tugging hard at his curls, taking your nails across his scalp. he whimpers, whimpers, at the sensation and that’s enough to finish you off.

he keeps going, kitten licking you through your orgasm and you pant, nothing but white behind your squeezed shut eyes. you have you drag him away, overstimulated and twitching against the silvery grey fabric of the sofa.

“fuck.” you laugh, breathless.

“good?” he smirks.

“shut up and come here.” you make grabby hands at him, and he clambers over you, smiling wide, his lips coated shiny and red.

“you’re pretty.” he coos, licking his lips clean.

“so are you.” you whisper.

he collapses on top of you, urgently slotting his lips over yours. he slides his hands all over your frame, memorising every dip and curve, while your hands find the waistband of his joggers. you push the material down his hips gently tracing his hip bone; he shudders at the graze, kicking the fabric away and wrapping his hand around his cock.

you glance down, taking in the sight before you. he’s thick in his own hand, red and slick already, as he runs his hand over himself.

“you want me?” he manages to ask through gritted teeth.

“please.” you whine, reaching to replace his hand, but he bats you away.

“patience, baby. wanted you like this for so long, you can wait a few seconds.” he scolds, condescendingly.

you don’t get a chance to talk back, because he’s sliding inside of you, nice and slow. your eyes roll back at the delectable stretch, he’s bigger than you’ve had in a while, and you hum lowly. he kisses over your throat and you can hear his shaky breath fanning your ear. you’re fluttering around him, adjusting to him with small circles of your hips.

“do something.” you beg, hushed and breathless.

“you think you can take it?” lando taunts, but you can hear the way his voice waivers as your walls spasm around him.

“can you?” you whisper, giving as good as you get. something inside of him snaps and pride kicks in, because before you can even truly gloat, he’s barrelling into you.

you cling onto his shoulders greedily, digging your fingertips in to whatever part of him you can get hold of. he thrusts so deep, all the way in, before dragging fully out, leaving you aching for him to fill you up again. he’s going quick enough that you can’t really complain, but slow enough to tease, to drive you insane beneath him. it feels too good to hurry him up, he knows what he’s doing and you want to take it, feel him like this. you’re quivering, his cock hitting every single spot that makes you tick and you think you can die happy now that you’ve had him.

“i’m so close.” you warn, overstimulated from your first orgasm. he ups his pace, just enough to send you spiralling, and you can’t keep your eyes open as you let go, your legs kicking out.

it’s too much when you open your eyes and find him staring down at you, sleepy and sweaty. he’s gorgeous like this, pupils blown, bronze skin glistening in the low light. he feels the way you throb around him, still buried so deep.

“not done with you yet, angel. c’mere.” lando sits back, pulling your limp body along with him until your right back where you started, sprawled over his lap.

he’s so close to his own release, pained and restless, and you can feel the head rubbing against your clit. even in your state of pure exhaustion, you can’t help but grind down against him, and he lifts your hips enough for you to sink down on him.

your sounds of pleasure ricochet off of one another’s, animalistic contentment spilling from between two sets of equally swollen lips. you’re so full like this, rocking tiredly, backwards and forwards.

“just like that, baby. just like that.” he’s breathing heavily, brows furrowed. his head tips back, neck thick and flexed, and you’re thrown back into the deep end of your fantasy.

“oh my god.” you choke, tears of satisfaction building. “lando!” you cry, meeting his shallow thrusts. he’s guiding your hips up and down, just enough to hammer against that special spot that makes you whine his name.

“cum for me, baby, last one. know you can do it pretty girl.” the praise knocks the last bits of air out of you and you collapse forwards into his arms. he holds you tight, groaning sweet nothings and your name like a prayer, right in your ear.

“you’re definitely staying tonight.” lando laughs softly, coming down. you think back to your earlier refusal, grinning lazily.

“guest room?” you joke, kissing his shoulder.

he pulls you back so that he can look at you, cupping your face.

“you’re never staying in that room ever again.”

he kisses you, then. soft. warm. home.

it’s natural, everything you’ve been missing, and somehow the only thing you’ve been missing in your relationship with him. he already gave you everything you could ever need, tonight was the cherry on top.

“are we gonna be okay?” you whisper, so quiet that you can barely hear yourself. fear pools in your belly.

“i hope so. ‘cause i’m never letting you go now.”

i feel so warm inside hehe

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789 @ln4norizz @formulaal

lemme know if you wanna be added or removed :)

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gubsbuubs · 3 months

Text

It’s Mutual

(Throphy Wife Pt.2)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers; Smut; Creampie; Choking; Dirty talk.

Summary: This is Part 2. of my first post Trophy Wife: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. After a figth that proceeded the misson Spencer and (Y/N) give in to the temptation.

Preview: He looked at me and said, "Please, we're not even friends," and then he laughed. "We're just coworkers who despise each other... and normally I can't stand being around you, but right now, I just want to be inside you." He grabbed my face and locked his eyes into mine. "So please, shut up and just let me do my thing." He forcefully kissed me again as we walked through the room.

A/N: Hi, my loves! I´m so grateful for the love my first ever fic got. As I said, this is the second part, but you can read it as a standalone. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated.🍒

My requests are open!

Previously:

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I said. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit. Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I pointed it out. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now?”.

And then, suddenly, his lips were on mine, my back pressed to the door with a thud. I felt the heat of his passion and the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant. He kissed me with so much force and passion that I got breathless and had to pull away.

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"Since I kissed you in the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A small whimper escaped my lips as he opened the door behind me, crashing his lips into mine again. I groaned, "This is so wrong," the words hanging in the air, acknowledging the forbidden nature of our connection.

He chuckled. "Yeah, this is so wrong." Yet he didn't stop, continuing down a path that felt undeniably right in its wrongness.

I hesitated, breaking the kiss. "Reid, I think we shouldn't be doing this."

His voice came muffled as he kissed my collarbone. " Why?"

"This will ruin our friendship." That made him stop in his tracks.

He looked at me and said, "Please, we're not even friends," and then he laughed.

"We're just coworkers who despise each other... and normally I can't stand being around you, but right now, I just want to be inside you." He grabbed my face and locked his eyes into mine. "So please, shut up and just let me do my thing." He forcefully kissed me again as we walked through the room.

We landed on the bed behind me, where he gently bunched up my dress and removed it from my body, leaving me in my matching black lace set. "You look delicious" He sighed. "Cant wait to ruin you."

He pressed his body onto mine, eliciting a throaty moan from my lips as I felt the friction of his clothed erection against my throbbing clit. Each deliberate thrust of his hips intensified the heat between us, the fervent kiss we shared becoming increasingly heated and impassioned.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you sound so pretty like this,” he said while his teeth grazed my neck.

I was surprised Spencer could talk like this, swearing and praising. His words were completely at odds with the Reid I thought I knew. I was a moaning mess under him, and he had barely touched me.

Needing to gain the upper hand in the situation, I decided to playfully tease him, “Who knew you had this in you, Doctor?” I whispered between the kisses.

As his right hand traversed the space between us, his middle finger delicately traced the contours of my clothed core, sending tingles of anticipation through my body.

"It's Spencer,” he replied nonchalantly.

“What?” I asked, confused, barely able to concentrate while his skillful touch continued its sensual dance.

He grabbed my chin, making me lock eyes with his. "You always address me as 'Doctor' or 'Reid,'" his other hand pulled my panties aside, coming into contact with my folds. "Tonight, I want you to scream my name so it's 'Spencer,' understood?" His demanding and authoritarian tone made me want him even more.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped my parted lips as Spencer's long finger gently breached the warmth of my entrance. Our eyes locked, and within his intense gaze, I could sense his growing desire that mirrored my own. It was a shared recognition of the escalating tension between us. An in that moment, he simply smiled, fuck, he was so pretty.

His eyes flickered with a mix of challenge and desire as he responded, "Can't you just take a simple order?"

He teased me relentlessly, pushing the boundaries of my patience, and in response, a desire to further provoke him ignited within me.

"Why do you always have to be so complicated, Reid? Just fuck me already."

A teasing grin played on my lips. "I don't do very well with taking orders, Doctor, let's see if you can make me." With a swift motion I shifted him on the bed, guiding him to lie down and straddling his body

"Do you believe you can tame me just by straddling me?" His voice was laced amusement as his hand found my neck, fingers wrapping tightly, restricting my breath. “I´m still in control Angel, so you better behave, or I won't fuck you.”

"You know you want this as much as I do." I unclasped my bra, offering him a perfect view of my breasts. His hand reached out to caress them, fingers capturing my nipple between his index and middle fingers.

“Be a good girl and grind on yourself on my dick; I want to watch that pretty face of yours." His words were so filthy, igniting a fervent heat within my core.

His dominant demeanor revealed a side of him I wasn't accustomed to, yet I found myself following his orders without hesitation. A symphony of moans escaped my lips, each note drawing his focused gaze. His hands skillfully guided my hips, directing them in a slow, tantalizing rhythm, as I ground against his bulge.

"I always knew you wanted this; just look at you, enjoying yourself as you grind on my cock."

“Are you always this chatty?" I asked breathlessly, my heart pounding in my chest.

"You know you like when I'm chatty." His words came with a confident tone, his voice resonating deep and firm as he held my gaze. A blush crept across my cheeks, a surge of embarrassment confirming his accuracy.

He reveled in the dominance he held over me, relishing the way he held the upper hand in our interaction. As much as I resisted, there was an undeniable thrill that coursed through me, a mix of resistance and a strange kind of pleasure in surrendering to his control.

His hands abruptly halted my movements, securing my hips firmly. His innocent gaze held a promise of something far more provocative as he whispered urgently, "I really want to taste your pussy, (Y/N)." The depth and urgency in his voice heightened the tension. I could only manage a nod in response.

In a swift motion, he flipped me over, his lips starting an exploration of every inch of my stomach. The deliberate pace added to the building anticipation. His skillful hands slid my lace panties off, revealing the vulnerability beneath.

As he undressed, exposing his naked form, it was a mesmerizing sight. His lean, slightly muscular frame glowed with a sheer layer of sweat, and the glistening skin accentuated the erotic ambiance between us.

As he lowered his boxers, a gasp involuntarily escaped my lips. “Oh Spencer, your cock is so pretty.” I bit my bottom lip as my hand traveled to my core, fingers dancing for the man in front of me. “I need it inside me, please.”

My legs instinctively parted a bit wider as he repositioned himself, his head now nestled between my legs.

“Oh Angel, you´re so wet for me,” he said, placing an open-mouth kiss inside my left thigh. “I´ve barely toutched you.”.

I inhaled sharply as he traced a long lick up my slit. "Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined," he murmured, locking eyes with me from between my legs.

I struggled to control my breathing as the room filled with the echoes of my moans and the sweet hums of Spencer's lips against me. He devoured me as if starved, his hands gripping my thighs with force. "Spencer, please; I need you," I pleaded, unable to contain my desire.

"Are you begging?" He questioned me in a teasing tone, his lips brushing against my inner thigh. As my head fell back, I quietly said, "Yes, please, Spencer." He chuckled, the warm breath sending shivers through me. "You'll have to do better than that, Angel. Convince me."

"Spence, I'll do anything. Just don't make me wait any longer," I pleaded

My gaze was fixed on him as he descended, aligning himself perfectly with my entrance.The sight of him sinking into me was utterly pornographic. As he slid completely inside, a shared exhale escaped both of us, releasing a tension we hadn't realized we held. The movement began, It wasn't slow; it wasn't patient.

It was a rapid, fervent rhythm, each thrust driving me to the edge, and with each thrust, my teeth sank into his shoulder to keep me from screaming.

“Fuck Spencer, keep going,” I moaned in his ear.

"See how you crave more even with me already deep inside," he remarked, planting open-mouthed kisses on my lips, capturing the moans that escaped. "Who would've imagined you to be such a beggar for it?""

I struggled to muffle my moans, but each deep thrust hitting my cervix caused my walls to clench around him, drawing delightful whimpers from Spencer..

His thrusts became less controlled as his forehead found solace on my shoulder, the intensity and erratic nature of his movements increasing. "Is that all you got, doc?" With a mischievous smirk, I contributed, determined to play with his mind.

"Shut up," he grumbled, momentarily losing focus. "You just feel so, so good," he confessed, "This pussy is so tight, so wet for me, it's driving me crazy." As his explicit words sank in, I could feel my climax approaching.

"Fuck, it’s like you were made for me." His pace quickened, thrusts becoming more fervent and urgent as the intensity between us escalated. Each movement seemed calculated to elicit a reaction, the force of his movements sending waves of pleasure through my entire body.

The bed creaked in protest beneath us, a symphony of our shared desire filling the room. “You take me so well, baby.” A deep, throaty groan escaped him as his hands sought the curve of my hips, drawing me nearer to him. He watching in admiration as my face contorted in pleasure.

I let out a soft whimper, so overwhelmed by the sensation that I couldn't stop myself from giving in to the overwhelming pleasure. "Spencer, I´m going to cum.”

A soft “yeah?” Was all he said to me as he kept ponding deep into my core. The room was filled with the sounds of our shared desires. Soft moans and whispered words escaped our lips, creating an echo that seemed to linger in the air. Every touch, every gasp, reverberated through the space, intertwining with the raw passion that enveloped us.

His forehead rested against mine, eyes alternately opening and closing with every forceful thrust, our hands tightly intertwined.

"Fuck Spencer, I can't hold it anymore," I confessed breathlessly.

"Cum on my cock baby" I came, my walls squeezing him in the most delicious way. He responded, swiftly pulling out and releasing himself onto my stomach. A mix of exhaustion and satisfaction enveloped both of us.

He collapsed by my side, and we lay there together in a momentary silence. Eventually, he got up and went to the bathroom. Returning with a wet towel, he used it to delicately clean us up.

"Oh my god, I can't believe we just did that," I gasped out, breathless from the intensity of the moment.

"Shhh, just relax," he cautioned, pulling me into his embrace, the lingering tension still palpable.

"But we hate each other, remember?" I teased with an amused tone, locking eyes with him.

His facial expression softened. "I don't hate you; I just find you extremely annoying sometimes," he chuckled.

"Well, the feeling's mutual." My laugh filled the room, causing a warm smile to form on his face, and he nodded in agreement.

Taglist: @translatemunson @unimportantweirdo @katscorner020 @queermaxwooo ❤️

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shibaraki · 13 days

Text

OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. You wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your smile. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way back is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m home,” he says, throat rough from disuse.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #q’d

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toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ oh my!

pairing: xu minghao x reader

description: choosing to be roommates with vernon chwe would undeniably be one of the few life-changing decisions you made in your lifetime. he brought along support, friendship, and most importantly: a hot friend. — or, in which you’re roommates with vernon and you happen to fall for one of his many chaotic friends.

tags: smut (18+), oral (m receiving), just stupid mutual pining, fluff, seriously self indulgent, mentioned past toxic/controlling relationships

w/c: 13.6k

a/n: REPOSTED. this was my first attempt at a kpop fic ever and my first time writing smut so please bear with how awkwardly written it is. a fic that was supposed to be multiple parts but i couldn't come up with a real plot either so ummm … nevertheless i hope u enjoy!

I. OH MY!

Moving in with Vernon is among your top life changing decisions, pretty much ever.

You two met in college, first sharing a calculus class together and occasionally studying together. Your friendship was budding—he was someone you could count on and never had to second guess. Spending more time together, you naturally grew closer, eventually reaching a point that when Vernon mentioned moving out of his shitty studio, you two immediately decided to find a place together.

Fresh out of college, it was the best decision in all ways possible—money was not nearly as big of a burden as before, and it was fun having a friend to talk to whenever you wanted in the vicinity of your own home.

It’s been an enjoyable eight months since you two started renting out this place together, and this evening, you’re in the kitchen cooking some brownies with an old package of brownie mix you found shoved in the back of one of your cupboards. You’re making a bit of a mess, but you can only hope that Vernon doesn’t mind too much—you will clean it, after all.

You’re in the midst of pondering about how long it’ll take you to clean up the little (big) splatter of flour you dropped on the ground when there’s a buzzing that comes from your phone. You huff, looking down at your fingers that are coated in oil and brownie batter. Setting down the bowl you were mixing, you then go to wash your hands as the buzzing dies out. After wiping down any moisture left on your skin, you pick up the phone to see a missed call from Vernon.

Did he forget something? you wonder, pressing the call back button and holding your phone up to your ear. You hear him pick up the line almost immediately, curious to know why he called you. “Hey,” you say casually when you know he can hear you. “Everything good?”

There are a few voices in the background that you hear, and you recall how he told you this morning he’d be hanging out with his friends. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s great. Look, I was wondering if it would be okay with you if my friends came over to our place? I would’ve asked earlier but I didn’t think we would be hanging out more and…well you get it,” Vernon sighs.

Your lips make a little ‘o’ shape, nodding to yourself as if Vernon could see you right now. “Yeah of course they can come over!” you tell him.

“Are you sure?” he clarifies, and you smile at the sincerity. “It’s just—I mean like they’re probably going to stay a while?” It comes out as a question and you laugh. “Don’t laugh at me,” Vernon grumbles, “I’m just making sure because they’re probably going to stay late in the night and there’s a lot of them.”

“Yes Vernon, I know there’s a lot of them—twelve to be exact,” you retort. “Yes, I’m okay with it, it’s not like I do anything these days anyways. I’ll be fine,” you tell him honestly.

“Okay, thank you so much,” he replies, relieved. “We’ll be there in like ten minutes.”

“Ten?!” you shrieked, quickly taking in the giant mess you made around you, baffled when you think about how you’re going to clean this up.

“Yes, sorry,” Vernon murmurs. “These guys change their minds so much and—ugh—you get it. We’re already close to the apartment complex so we’re just going to come up. Is there a problem?”

You hum, looking around you. “I might’ve made a bit of a mess in the kitchen, but…but I’ll figure it out.”

Vernon laughs. “I doubt they’ll care—most of them are dogs.” You giggle at the muffled protests heard in the background before he continues. “Anyways, thank you, I owe you one. See you in five.”

Your phone beeps when he hangs up and you stand by yourself in the middle of the kitchen. “Five?” you whisper to yourself, “Fuck! He said ten! But now five? Fuck!”

You whip your head around to look at the kitchen, grimacing as you’re dawned with the realization that there is no way you’re going to clean this up before they come. It takes you around 5 seconds to debate your options, finally deciding to just give up on trying to clean up and focus on finishing the batter and getting the pan in the oven.

You set your phone back down on the counter, picking up the batter bowl and giving it a few more stirs to rid it of any clumps before spreading it all out on a pan. It takes you a few moments to find the mittens and stick it in the preheated oven, a wave of relief washing over you when you’re done.

That’s one thing out of the way…I guess , you think to yourself, letting your hair down from the tight up-do you had it in earlier. Looking down at your black t-shirt and yoga pants, you take a few moments to try and dust off whatever flour rubbed off on the cloth. Of course, many stains still remain, but you figured this was better than nothing.

You’re about to grab a broom to clean up the floor when you hear a knock at the door. Sighing in defeat, you wash your hands once before heading to the door. You’re placing your hand on the door knob before you hear some clicking, hesitating to open once you realize it’s Vernon on the other end unlocking it himself. You step back from the doorway as the door is pushed slightly ajar, allowing you to poke your head through the small gap.

You’re met with the sight of multiple guys crowding around the door, a slightly frantic and honestly exhausted-looking Vernon leading the group. “Hey,” he greets as you step back once more, pulling the door open fully.

“That was less than five minutes!” you exclaim, trying your best to ignore the gazes of the unfamiliar faces behind Vernon. You’ve seen pictures of them before on Vernon’s social media and stuff but you don’t really know them at all—you’re only aware of bits and pieces from the stories he tells you occasionally.

“I’m sorry!” he puts his hands up in surrender, stepping through the doorway as you back into the kitchen that remained in the chaotic state you left it in.

“I didn’t have time to clean!” you whine, frantically waving your hand at the kitchen, allowing Vernon to take in the scene.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a new voice pops in and you see a hand snake it’s way around Vernon’s shoulders. A man with blonde hair and a chiseled face looks at you sympathetically. “It’s not Vernon’s fault,” he tells you calmly. “You can blame it on us for changing plans quickly. Don’t worry, Vernon feels bad about it, he told us.”

You sigh, a small pout making its way onto your face. “Fine,” you huff as the rest of the boys fill the large room that contains the kitchen and living room. You aren’t sure what to do now, watching them all shuffle around, taking off their shoes and attempting (key word: attempting ) to organize them in front of the doorway. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead—should you go to your room now? Would it be awkward to just hang around here while they’re in the living room (your kitchen and living room are basically one large room, so there’s no real way to avoid them)?

You’re glad Vernon picks up on your uncertainty. He turns to his friends, speaking up and saying your name, which catches you by surprise. “My roommate,” he clarifies, as they all look at you. You smile awkwardly, giving a small wave before averting your gaze. Vernon then turns around, pointing at the couch across the room, “Now can one of you set up the Mario Kart?”

The rest of the boys nod, beginning to break out into small conversations by themselves as they all make their way to lounge in the connected room, finally giving you a bit of space to breathe (not that they were making you uncomfortable or anything—you’re just a little shy).

“I’m sorry again,” Vernon tells you, and you can hear the genuinity in his voice. “What were you making, by the way?” he asks curiously, peering over at the mess.

“It’s okay! And I was making brownies—I found some old box mixes in the back of the cupboard and I figured I should make them before they expire,” you explain, looking over at his friends who have now settled in the living room comfortably. “Do your friends want some? I’ve made a big enough batch for everyone, I’m sure,” you tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Vernon can you stop asking me if I’m sure,” you complain loudly, running a hand over your face. You hear a snicker come from the other side of a room, catching sight of one of Vernon’s friends seated on ground, a playful smirk on his face upon hearing your conversation. You feel your ears burn, quickly turning back to Vernon. “Yes, I just made them for fun. It’s better to share with them than have us eat all of it,” you chuckle, picking up a dustpan from the corner of the kitchen to begin cleaning up.

“Okay fine,” Vernon murmurs. “Thank you a lot,” he concludes, finally turning and joining friends on the couch. You begin your work to clean up the flour you dropped on the ground, getting lost in your own little world after slipping in your airpods, tuning out the noises of rowdy men and Mario Kart sound effects.

You’re practically done with cleaning the kitchen when you hear your timer go off, nearly skipping to the oven to turn it off and pull out the pan of brownies you’ve been putting so much effort into. The aroma floats through the room, and you catch the glances of a few of Vernon’s friends who peek over, trying to get a look at whatever you’ve come up with.

You smile to yourself, placing the pan on the counter before pulling out a knife to make nice, even pieces. It takes you a few moments, but once you’re done, you look down at them happily. Slipping on your mittens, you carry the tray over to the living room, a small, upwards curve pulling at your lips.

The boy you remember from earlier—the one who laughed at your reaction to Vernon—notices you first, and you can’t help but wonder how you didn;t recognize him from any pictures because holy hell he’s pretty. His eyes are looking at you through heavy eyelashes and there’s a coy smile tugging at his lips—he’s charming .

It takes you a good five seconds to realize you’re staring at him and another five to realize he’s caught you in the act. You whip your head away, looking at the rest of the boys, some of which who are intently focused on the game on the screen, others of which who are indifferent.

“Um, I made some brownies, if you guys want,” you tell them all, clearing your throat. “They’re fresh, so they’re a little hot, but you can wait for them to cool down.” You set down the pan on the table as the rest of them quiet down, some immediately spewing out words of gratitude.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” one of them asks, and you recognize him as the tallest. Mingyu? You recall some stories about him.

You shrug. “I kind of just made it because we had the boxes left…I think it’d be better if you guys shared it.”

Another boy with glasses sitting on the armchair speaks up. “You can eat it with us—our way of saying thanks,” he encourages. You throw out a close lipped smile, glancing at Vernon as if to ask if this was all just a show of politeness or an actual offer. He offers the slightest nod, and your once tight smile is let loose. You nod your head cheerfully, looking around you to find a spot to sit.

Noticing your confusion, the boy with the blonde hair and sharp face from earlier points to your right. “Sit next to Minghao, I’m sure there’s room there.”

You look down, met with the gaze of him , trying your best to hide your twinge of excitement as you silently shuffle over and sit down at the edge of the rug. Minghao . You like that name, you say to yourself in your head before shaking your head lightly—what are you thinking? You can’t be crushing on a guy you just laid your eyes on!

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head to the screen, grateful to see everyone else’s attention has also averted to the heated one-on-one match between the glasses guy from earlier (you now have learned his name is Wonwoo) and Mingyu.

They’re a loud bunch, but you can’t find it in you to mind—watching them all get along so well, so freely, is liberating in itself. You feel relaxed in a way you didn’t know you could be.

As content as you feel right now though, there’s an anxious thought buzzing at the back of your mind, and no matter how desperately you try to push it back, it keeps crawling its way up, especially when you feel your thigh brush Minghao’s .

Stop it , you chide yourself. Stop it! A little more harshly. Stop thinking about him!

“Hey…” the first time he says it, the words don’t quite reach your ears. “Hey,” he says again, nudging your thigh with his knee, increasing the minimal physical contact you two already had. You’re snapping out of your daze in an instant, whipping your head up to look at him . “You good?” he asks, and while you can tell he’s being sincere, there’s an almost playful smirk gracing his lips.

“Huh…oh, yeah,” you murmur, bashful that he caught you lost in your own head, thinking about him. “Just zoned out for a second,” you explain with an awkward laugh, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your chin on your knees.

“I could tell,” Minghao replies, and you can’t help but gaze at how cool he is as he reaches toward the coffee table, cutting himself a piece of the brownie. You watch him carefully as he takes a bite—you’re honestly just admiring his face, but you think you can brush off your shameless ogling as looking to see if he likes the brownie. He catches you staring, and you’re unsure of what he thinks of it, opening his mouth to talk again once he’s swallowed it. “It’s good,” he tells you, and you smile.

“I’m glad…it would have been kind of embarrassing if it wasn’t.”

“Don’t worry—chocolate isn’t even really my thing but I like it,” Minghao compliments, and you can’t tell if he’s being genuine or faux out of sincerity. Your grin brightens nevertheless as you sink back into the front of the sofa behind you, averting your gaze to the screen once again.

You’re feeling a little shy, of course, and the silence that now sits between you and Minghao isn’t uncomfortable or awkward, rather it’s…heart-warming. Your smile doesn’t leave your face as the room is full of cries and laughter and taunts as the results of the first round are revealed.

You sit in an amused silence, watching them for around another twenty minutes and even getting to play once (albeit your minimal effort—Mario Kart always gives you a headache anyways), before quietly standing up as the boys are cheering over Wonwoo winning yet another match. Minghao looks at you as you raise yourself above him, and your stomach churns at the way he raised a brow.

“Leaving already?”

You shrug casually. “I think it’s about time I get to doing my own stuff,” you explain, throwing out a small smile before retreating to your room before Minghao—or anyone else—can notice or say anything. You’re grateful Minghao didn’t make a scene about you leaving—it’s not that you don’t like the boys (far from it), but you’ve been tired the whole day and were looking forward to a nice nap.

Settling into your bed after shutting your blinds, you pull the covers up to your chin shooting a quick text to Vernon to make sure he wakes you up for dinner if you didn’t wake yourself up in time. You shut your eyes tight, doing your best to ignore the tight feeling that settles at the bottom of your stomach.

The second you identify the feeling, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Your words don’t aid you, of course, because all you’re thinking about his stupid fucking Minghao and his stupidly hot face and his stupidly cute smirk and the stupidly handsome way he looks at you and— oh my god you need to turn your brain off right now.

You settle on not breathing, trying to pretend you’re dead, in hopes it’ll lull you to sleep. Of course, the effect is the opposite of your intentions—the lack of oxygen only reminds you of the way Minghao took your breath away when you first noticed him.

You huff to yourself, rolling your body over so your face is pressed into the pillow as you quietly curse to yourself. “God, I’m so fucked,” you whine, childishly pounding your fists against the plush of your mattress.

You’re being immature, you know you are—like a child throwing a tantrum—but who can blame you? He’s just so pretty and that smile of his is so endearing and you can’t help but find yourself so falling for him.

It’s a miracle that you fall asleep at all, let alone so quickly. You figure the exhaustion from the past week has finally caught up to you, even with the onslaught of attraction that came your way after seeing Minghao.

When you wake up, it’s much darker. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but the sky is painted a deep red which is bound to morph to purple within a few more moments before finally sinking into nighttime. You glance around and you realize that the only thing besides the outside light that’s illuminating your room is your bed lamp that you forgot to turn off.

You rub your eyes a few times, still in a bit of a groggy, drowsy daze, before remembering what woke you up in the first place—the knock on your door. “Hello?” you croak out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth at the mangles sound that leaves your mouth. It’s quiet for a moment and you’re able to identify the faint voices in the rest of the apartment as Vernon’s friends.

Your mind is suddenly racing through the possibility of who could’ve knocked on your door and— oh my god! What if it’s Minghao?! What if he heard y—

You hear your name being called out softly and your speeding train of thought falters. It’s Vernon. Thank fucking god. “You up?” he says through the door and you pull the covers off of you to meet him at the door. Poking your head through the crack as you open it slightly, you squint immediately at the intrusion of light to your unadjusted eyes.

“Good morning,” you joke, stepping back to let him in. “Thanks for waking me up…jeez, I was knocked out,” you murmur to yourself, rubbing a hand over your face as you walk to your dresser to find yourself a comb. “What time is it?”

“It’s like six…the guys were worried that they were being too loud when I told them you were sleeping,” Vernon muses, pulling up his phone to scroll through something. “But I was like nah she sleeps through everything—and I was right,” he says with a laugh as you roll your eyes, trying to make yourself more presentable as you pull your hair back into a low do.

“Whatever…did you guys have fun? I’m assuming so since they’re still here…”

“Yeah, we’re ordering dinner right now. I told you they were gonna stay for a while. That’s why I woke you up too: I was gonna ask if there was anything specific you wanted—if you wanna eat with us of course,” he explains, holding up his phone to display the food delivery app he had opened earlier.

“Would that be okay? If I had dinner with you all?”

“Yeah of course, no one would mind,” Vernon assures you as you look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair, narrowing your eyes at your roommate.

“You sure?”

“Okay now you need to stop asking me if I’m sure,” Vernon huffs with a roll of his eyes followed by your laughter.

“Okay okay, fine,” you reply. “Give me like two minutes I’ll come out and we can decide something with everyone,” you say, ushering Vernon out. He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around to join his friends in the other room. After he leaves, you debate with yourself whether or not you should change or join the rest with your pajama pants and loose fit t-shirt.

Overcome with the still lingering drowsiness from your nap, you choose comfort, and decide to just throw on a loose cardigan over whatever you’re wearing now before stepping out of the room. A yawn escapes your lips as you enter the living room, catching sight of all the boys lounging around—some are seated on top of the kitchen island, legs hanging over the edge, while others are laying down on the couch with their feet kicked up, the rest with their legs folded on the ground.

You try not to stare at Minghao too much when he enters your line of vision, but the task is becoming impossibly harder the longer you look: he’s laid back on the couch, feet resting on a blonde boy—Jun, you think is his name’s—lap, and you don’t miss the way his arms are crossed behind the back of his head, shirt lifting up just enough to reveal a little bit of the skin that dons his torso.

You begrudgingly peel your eyes away from the marvelous sight when you hear someone call your name, heads turning to you once they realize you’ve finally joined them.

“About time,” the boy with sharp features from earlier—Jeonghan—says as a greeting, waving you over as he stands next to Vernon. “Come on, help us decide what to order.”

“D’you sleep well?” another asks, and you turn your head to see who’s speaking as you approach Jeonghan. You recognize the boy now as Seungkwan, and you smile while nodding. “I swear me and Chan thought you were dead!” he exclaims jokingly as you furrow your eyebrows.

The boy next to him shoots Seungkwan a death stare before speaking up, much to your amusement. “What Seungkwan means is,” Chan begins with a huff, “we were playing a game and Mingyu lost and he yelled and we were scared we woke you up but nothing happened!”

“I told you, she sleeps through everything,” you hear Vernon mumble from behind you, not missing the joking look that’s toying with his face. You roll your eyes and hit his shoulder, loud enough for everyone to hear and cause them to laugh, smiling internally at the reaction you were able to elicit.

“That’s not true!” you whine, looking over his shoulder to see what restaurants they were choosing from.

“Joking, joking,” Vernon mumbles, turning his phone so you could see better. “We’re choosing between Mexican and Thai. You can choose which, since we’re all pretty evenly split.”

You hum for a second, thinking about which you’re craving more, finally settling on, “Thai!”

There are some cheers that erupt behind you, and your face heats up right away when you turn around to see some of them (Minghao in particular) with cheerful smiles and fists of victory in the air. “Thai it is!” Vernon announces. “Tell me what you guys want,” he says before looking at you. “The usual?” you nod with a grin, backing away as he places the order while the others call out the array of dishes you want, making your way to the seating area to sit down by one of the sofas (totally not because that’s where Minghao was sitting).

As you settle down onto the ground, Minghao speaks up. “Do you want to sit here?” he asks, sitting up from his horizontal position, pulling his legs back to make space between him and Jun on the couch. Your eyes shoot up, darting between Minghao’s deep brown eyes and the space on the couch.

“Are you sure? You can lay down if you w—”

“Nonsense,” Jun says with a chuckle, and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on until you feel Minghao’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you up slightly as a direct invitation to take up the spot next to him. God his skin is so soft and his touch is demanding yet so gentle and it’s just enough to get the butterflies that you thought died off to be resurrected once more. “Our way of thanks for choosing Thai,” Jun tells you.

“Yeah,” Minghao agrees, and you try your best to focus on what he’s saying even if it’s impossibly hard with the way his body is pressed up right against you. He leans back as if to stretch his body, arms reaching back behind the couch and settling in the space behind you,

God, you feel like you could die on the spot—it’s not like he’s got an arm wrapped around you or anything so why does this feel so intimate? You can only hope and pray that he doesn’t feel the immense heat radiating off of you as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably on the couch. In hopes to diffuse the tension that you’re kind of sure you’re the only one feeling, you speak up. “Do you guys want to watch something? A show? A movie?” you suggest reaching forward to pick up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“I’m down,” Wonwoo says with a shrug.

“Oh yeah!” Seungcheol speaks up, “I’ve been wanting to rewatch Batman for a while!”

“Batman then?” you, looking around at everyone as you click the remote to pull it up after you see the nods of their heads. You put on the movie, sinking back into the couch as you do your best to focus on the screen in front of you, and not the faint touch of Minghao’s arm to the back of your neck.

You’re successful for a bit, thankfully, but your peace of mind hardly lasts when the food comes in and everyone settles on the ground to eat—your and Vernon’s rule that there’s no eating curry on the couch. You, Minghao, and Jun slip from your spots on the couch and sit on the ground where your feet lay just a few moments ago, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of the little space you three are squished up against.

It’s a miracle, you think, if Minghao doesn’t notice the way your skin burns against his as his thigh is pressing right up against yours. This touch is different from the one in the afternoon—that one was…light…innocent. This one…this one’s different—it has you burning and yet shivers run down your spine. If you were a little bit more in your senses, maybe—just maybe—you would notice the tight lipped smile that tugs at Minghao’s li ps as well.

Oh my! Now the crush begins.

II. COME TO ME

That night, after the movie, the food, and some beer, the twelve boys shuffle out of the house at around eleven, murmuring soft and tired “thank yous” and “goodbyes.” You can’t deny that you’ve been…a little stiff the entire evening. Sitting next to Minghao for a good 2 hours wore you out—it was a constant battle between your moral consciousness and your…budding feelings.

Stop looking at him! You’d say one moment, but then, god—oh my god his hands! No! Stop! He’s so close to me —stop acting like you’re in middle school! But his smile is just so pretty, god he lights up the room , but wait, stop being so cliche!

Naturally, you're convinced you’ve gone insane. Once the boys left, you and Vernon are left in the comfort of each other’s silence before beginning to make small conversation as you guys begin to clean up (the others honestly didn’t leave that much of a mess, you were just a bit of a clean freak).

“Your friends are fun,” you tell him quietly as you throw out the food containers that you finished earlier. Vernon looks up at you with a small smile, and you can tell that he’s been anxious about you not enjoying your time.

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Why haven’t you brought them over before?” you ask curiously, pondering about how there might have been a chance you could have laid your eyes on Minghao ages earlier. “Aren’t they like your best friends?”

Vernon shrugs. “Well yeah, they are, but there’s a lot of them, like you saw. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that, today just happened to be a day where it was hard for me to say no to them.” You laugh heartily at that—the image of Vernon being persuaded by twelve guys looking at him with puppy eyes. “I really am glad you liked them though. If it’s okay I’d like to have them over more,” he puts out tentatively.

Of course, you perk up at that—maybe a little too noticeably. “I’d love that!” you say excitedly, before shrinking back down at how eager you sound. “I mean like, of course I won’t barge on your time with them but they’re really fun to be around and I’d like to see them more often,” you explain, placing your hands on the counter now that you’re done cleaning all the dishes. Vernon seems to catch onto something and you want to die from embarrassment with the way he’s raising a brow at you.

But if he does notice anything, he doesn’t say it, instead choosing to shrug again and trudge away from the kitchen. “That’s great. Can I have them over next Saturday?”

You blink once then blink twice. “Of course,” you reply without a second of hesitation.

Saturday can't come soon enough. With your own work to do, you find your mind drifting constantly to the face of a pretty man who you can't seem to stop thinking about. You need to scold yourself every single time you realize you're daydreaming—god no, more like fantasizing—about a man who you've not only seen only once, but is one of your roommate's best friends.

Daunting as it is, you're finding this whole situation quite...fun. You can't remember the last time you've felt something so pure and rejuvenating as this crush—gosh, you feel childish for calling it that but what else can it be? Your heart palpates when you think about him, your eyes ache to see his beautiful face again, and holy hell you don't even want to get started on the raw goosebumps you get when reimagining the moment where his skin brushed up against yours.

It's Friday night now, and your stomach swims with anticipation of what tomorrow will hold. You're sitting on the couch in your living room when Vernon comes home from the gym, dropping a bag of food on the kitchen counter. "Hey, I was at the gym with Mingyu and he got me some leftovers that his mom made," he tells you as you look up at him.

"Oh sweet," you say, relieved you won't have to go through the effort of figuring out what to make for dinner. "Your friends are coming over tomorrow, right?" you ask, feigning nonchalance—fucking acting like tomorrow hasn't been the only thing on your mind for the past one week.

"Yeah, they're gonna come up pretty early actually. I was gonna ask you actually, if you wanted to come with us since we're planning on going to the beach later. It's gonna be pretty hot and we haven't gone down in a while," he explains, beginning to open the bag of food as you get up and join him, trying to ignore the endless thoughts that run through your mind.

"The beach? Of course I'd want to come—wait, would that be okay with them? I wouldn't wanna intrude in on your day."

Vernon shakes his head with a chuckle. "Oh my god can you stop?" he says jokingly, "they were the one's who suggested, actually. Not that I don't want you to come either—I do—I just want you to know that they enjoyed you being there last week just as much as you did."

"Really? Who suggested it?" You hope you aren't coming off as too curious—Vernon is perceptive, and you'd be a fool to think he couldn't figure out exactly why you're so insistent on figuring out who asked for you to be there.

He seems preoccupied though, taking the food out of the containers, much to your relief. "Uhh, it was Minghao I think. But like everyone agreed after that, Jeonghan even said he'd pay for your ice cream if you came."

You're convinced the universe is bullshitting you right now. Minghao? Your Minghao? Asked if you could join them? At the beach?

You might just pass out.

Naturally, Vernon looks at you funny. "Are you good? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

You shake your head nervously with a smile, turning back to grab a piece of fried chicken he pulled out. "No no, I was just thinking about if I even have any swim suits—I think I threw them out last summer because of Jungho," you murmur, and while it's not the full truth about what you were just thinking about, it is something that's on your mind. Vernon looks at you with a frown.

"You threw them out because of Jungho?" he asks sadly. "Fucking hell, I forgot how crazy he was," he murmurs, looking down to take his own bite of the food. You shrug solemnly, finding yourself in a mood a bit more down than you'd like.

"Weird times," you reply simply. "Think I could just go to the beach in like some shorts and a shirt? It's just water after all."

"Yeah that should be fine. We'd be leaving before noon so I don't think you'd have the time to buy new ones anyways," Vernon agrees, pushing himself off the counter.

You nod with a smile, ignoring the small pang of sadness you felt just moments ago. "Sounds good."

You're a heavy sleeper—you always have been—and given that it's a Saturday, it's no question that you're bound to sleep until Vernon is banging your door to make sure you aren't dead. Seriously. Saturday morning, despite your excitement, kicks off with a groggy start. You're rolling around in bed, ming hazy as you aimlessly try and figure out what time it is and what exactly woke you up since you know you don't set alarms for weekends. It takes a few seconds for the knocking on your door to register in your brain.

You blink once and rub your eyes, squinting so that they can adjust to the light as you peer at the clock, realizing that—shit, oh shit, it's almost 11. Didn't Vernon say that his friends were going to be here in the morning?! And that they were gonna leave before noon?! Shit!

You're scrambling out of bed, digging through your drawer as you call out a meek, "I'n up!" to whoever's knocking on your door, throwing on the only swim suit that you—thankfully—found tucked away in your closet the night before, covering it up with some shorts and a loose top that you picked earlier as well. You're quickly faced with realization that you still look like you just rolled out of bed which, to be fair, you had. That doesn't stop you from frantically brushing through your hair, trying to put it into a simple braid before finally feeling ready to open the door.

You're expecting to see Vernon, in all honesty, since that's how it went the last time they were all over. The man standing in front of your door is, in fact, definitely not Vernon. No, the man in front of your door is Xu fucking Minghao, and you think you're absolutely fucked by the way your knees go week.

"Hi, sorry, I hope I didn't rush you," he greets politely, stepping back, allowing you to take a good look at him. He's wearing a white sleeveless shirt that hugs hugs his body tightly, followed by a blue hawaiian shirt that sits loosely on his upper half. His lower half is adorned by simple swim trunks, and you do your very, very best to not stare at his calf muscles.

"I, uh..." your voice trails off, in a haze from how attractive he is as well from your fading drowsiness. You rub your eyes once under your glasses before responding. "It's okay, I don't know why I didn't get up earlier," you huff to yourself, looking down, "I thought I would."

"Don't worry about it," Minghao murmurs, and he brings a hand up to your head on top of your hair to ruffle it a bit. You might just scream. "It's good that you slept," he continues, walking back to the living room as you follow him. "We thought you'd wake up from how loud we were," he says with a chuckle as you enter the room with everyone else in it as they turn to you.

"Yeah," Seokmin agrees through a mouth full of muffin, Joshua lightly hitting his shoulder and chiding him for talking with his mouth full.

"She's awake!" Jeonghan cheers playfully.

"i know Vernon said you'd sleep through anything," Chan begins to admit, "but literally do not understand how you didn't wake up until now. I swear, there was a moment where Soonyoung was just screaming at the top of his lungs and we were all wondering if that was gonna get you to come out but Vernon didn't even bother to check."

Your face burns at the comment, but there's a warm sort of feeling that bubbles up in you when they all laugh—it's not a mean laugh, no, it's friendly and it's kind, and it's making you feel welcome.

"You guys just don't listen to me," Vernon huffs, tossing you an orange from the kitchen. "We're going to head out in like five minutes," he tells you. "We need to figure out the car situation because I think Wont's car and Joshua's can only five each and mine can hold four."

The next few minutes are spent trying to figure out who's going to go in which car, everyone deciding that Seungcheol, Seokmin, Chan, and Jun would be going in Wonwoo's, Jeonghan, Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Minghao would be going in Joshua's, and Mingyu, Seungkwan, and you would be going in Vernon's. You won't and say that you aren't a teensy bit disappointed that you don't get to sit with Minghao, but the beach is only a twenty minute's drive away anyways, and you feel this is also a chance to get to know Vernon's other friends better too.

The car ride is fun, and you enjoy Seungkwan's cheeky remarks to everything, laughing along to pretty much everything he says, as well as Mingyu's oddly calm hyperness...? You aren't sure how to explain it but there's a constantly endearing and jumpy aura radiating from the tall boy, yet he seems quite tame for the most part. Nevertheless, you're entertained and excited to spend more time with them as Vernon parks the car on the beach, pulling out his phone so he can figure out where the other's are.

"Ah" you murmur, as the fourteen of you are grouped up finally, making your way into the hot sand and towards the water. "This is like the perfect weather for the beach," you say, wiggling out of your slippers so you can walk on the sand with your bare feet. Seungkwan is standing next to you as you both trail behind the rest of the crowd a little, the both of you immersed in the warm feeling of sand between your toes.

"I love the beach," he says, throwing his head back to look up at the bright side. "I'm from a beach town, so when I found out that the beach—and all my friends—were here, I just had to move here too, you know?"

"The beach is nice, but I won't lie, it always makes me so exhausted after I spend a day out here," you admit, dragging your feet across the sand, basking in the hot feeling it brings. "Who knows, I'll probably go home and sleep so hard tonight that even Vernon might think I'm dead," you joke, causing Seungkwan to chuckle.

You two continue to talk about the beach and Seungkwan's home town as your group nears the water, everyone beginning to set up their towels and the picnic blankets you bought. Everyone helps out, and before you know it, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Seungkwan are ripping off their shirts and running towards the water. You watch them with amusement, standing up to shimmy out of your shorts and shirt.

Vernon looks at you, speaking, "You were able to get a swim suit?" he asks, confused considering your conversation with him last night. You smile somewhat sadly, and Minghao, sitting next to Vernon, can't help but notice.

"Uh, not really," you mumble, looking down at your black bikini. "I think Jungho just never knew about this one so I didn't get rid of it, and it was just shoved in the back of my closet or something. Anyways, I'm burning and I really want to get into the water," you conclude, turning around without giving Vernon a chance to respond.

As you run off into the water, Minghao turns and looks at Vernon him. "Who's Jungho?" he asks, shameless about his curiosity.

Vernon frowns as soon as he hears the name, and Minghao wonders just what kind of person this Jungho guy might be. "Just some ex. A really shitty one," Vernon murmurs, looking out at the sun. Minghao feels something uneasy churn inside of him. He gives Vernon that look, which tells him he wants to know more. "Like he just sucked. Didn't treat her right and shit. I didn't like him at all. None of her friends did. He tried to get her to throw out all of her swim suits and stuff because he didn't trust her at the beach or some bullshit like that."

"Goddamn," Minghao hisses, leaning back on his hands as he watches you play in the water. You looked like you were having so much fun—you were so at ease. He wants to chide himself for looking at the way your skin glistens in the sun, your bikini hugging your body in all the right places and in all the right ways. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about you like this, especially when he's only just met you a week ago, but that isn't to say he hasn't missed your quick glances. The way your eyes dart towards him, his body, his eyes, his lips, and quickly jump away when you realize he's caught you.

You feel the same way, he's sure of it. Minghao knows you feel the same tingles, the same sparks, the same rush of pure happiness when you see each other.

His thoughts are interrupted by Joshua speaking. "He made her throw out her swim suits?" he exclaims incredulously. "Insecure much," he mutters under his breath, and Minghao laughs along with that. "Good thing he's just her ex now—that sounds horrendous."

"Agreed," Minghao replies while Vernon nods, standing up to pull off his hawaiian shirt and top. "I'm gonna go into the water," he tells the rest of his friends before jogging lightly, following in your faint footsteps.

You're feet hit the water, and you stop in your tracks as you take a few moments to get used to the temperature change. You're looking up to see Seungkwan and Jeonghan waving you over to around twenty feet further into the water, but you call out to them to tell them to wait a second as you just melt in the feeling of the water against your toes. You stand there for a few moments before you hear a familiar voice coming up from behind you.

Oh. My. God.

You don't even want to turn around because you're scared of your reaction to seeing him shirtless—god, you aren't even sure if you'll be able to contain yourself! You think if you pass out, you'll just have to blame it on the heat, but still, how are you going to be—

"Hey," Minghao says cooly, stepping next to you in the water and holy crap, he's toned and he's practically glowing in the sunlight, the shadows hugging every peak and curve of his chest, his arms, his hands, his collarbone, his v-line—oh my god you need to stop. Practically ripping your eyes away from the wondrous view that is Minghao's body, you're forcing yourself to look up at his eyes (not that it's any less of a view—his eyes sparkle just as much as he does).

"H-hi." Did you just stutter? No fucking way you just stuttered. You think you might have to drown yourself right now. "I thought you were going to stay around with the others a bit longer," you say sheepishly. Minghao smirks at you, and he thinks now is his chance to try and fluster you up a bit more.

"Well I can't just let a pretty girl go into the ocean by herself, now can I?" he replies smoothly, taking a few steps in front of and waving you to follow him, and you would only if you hadn't just stopped breathing. How could he say that so casually!? How could he—wait. Wait! He just called you a pretty girl. He thinks you're pretty. Xu fucking Minghao finds you pretty, and he's saying it to your fucking face. You actually might die right now.

You can't even formulate a response, just tearing your gaze away from him and smiling shamelessly at the ground as you follow behind him slowly. Mission accomplished, Minghao thinks to himself, and something inside of him goes batshit crazy by seeing you so smiley and undone.

"W-whatever," you finally say as the water near to your hips as you two start nearing the others guys who are currently splashing each other with water. Minghao watches them, and get an idea, playfully splashing some water your way. You jump back quickly, eyes widening before you gasp. "You did not!" You quickly splash water back, but Minghao seems to see it coming and he moves out of the way. "Get back here!" you yell, running after him as he nears Mingyu, hiding behind the larger boy. With your eyebrows, you pay no mind to this, continuing to splash water everywhere, hoping that at least some of it will get on Minghao.

Mingyu puts his hands up, eyes scrunched up as he tries to block the water that's inevitably going his way. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Not me! Not me!" he cries out as the others laigh.

"Get Minghao!" you call out to the other boys who catch on quickly, joining you on your rampage against Minghao. Eventually there's just so much water splashing everywhere that within minutes you're all spent, gasping for air as you all try to rub the water away from your eyes. Once your vision is no longer blurry, you blink hard a few last times before turning your vision towards Minghao again and holy hell, you didn't think he could look any hotter than he did sitting in the sun but wow. His hair is wet and hanging low on his forehead but it's so messy and so hot and all you can think about is running your fingers through those locks yourself and making a mess in your own little way and—okay stop, you can't be thinking about this, especially not in public.

It takes a moment for you to fully calm yourself down before you're laughing with the other guys as they start to play a new game. You try to ignore the butterflies you get whenever you near Minghao, but it's a painfully hard task. You grow to accept the feeling as the minutes go on, simply existing alongside the bubbly feeling instead of pushing it down.

The next hour is spent in and out of the water, everyone else eventually joining those of you in the water, and you find that time is passing faster than you can even think. Time with them is fun, it's carefree, it's liberating, it's refreshing. Once you're all too tired and too spent, you're trudging back to the little spot you all have set up as everyone begins to pull out the food they packed. As you snack on your lunch, the fourteen of you sit in a circle and talk about the plans for the rest of the day.

"Let's play beach volleyball," Wonwoo suggests after everyone's finished eating, and it's no doubt that everyone else pretty much agrees immediately.

"Yeah, I saw a court in that direction, and I'm sure we'd be able to find a ball," Jihoon adds on as everyone stands up.

"I think i'll stay behind," you tell them all, leaning back on your hand as you fan your face with the other. "I'm kind of tired and I think I just need to sit down for a bit," you explain.

"That's okay, but you sure you won't be lonely," Vernon clarifies as he stands up.

You shake your head, but right before you're going to respond, Minghao speaks up. "Don't worry about her, I'll stay behind too." God, someone save you—your poor heart can't take much more of this.

"Oh okay, great!" Joshua says happily, the others standing up as well to go follow Jihoon to the volleyball court. "Catch you later!" You and Minghao wave at the rest as the drift off into the distance before being left in the silence that sits between you.

Minghao speaks first. "It's nice that you came, it's refreshing to have someone new, especially if they're like you."

You raise a brow at him, turning your body so that you're completely facing him, legs crossed as you lean forward. "Like me? What does that mean?"

Minghao gives you a sly smile, like he was expecting this. "Fun. Easy-going." He pauses. "Pretty."

"Is this your way of flirting or do you just enjoy being very direct about what you're thinking."

He laughs at that, throwing his head back. "Nice one. Those two are actually the same thing for me, so take that as you see it," he says with a shrug. You're face is on fire, and you're sure he can tell by now. Minghao catches on and he leans forward. "Is it working?"

"Maybe it is," you murmur nonchalantly.

"I think it definitely is," he shoots back with yet another smirk. God, you can't do this anymore. He's just so close to you and you don't know if it's because it's hot or if you're flustered or whatever but you're burning and not thinking straight and before you know it you're leaning in so close that you can feel Minghao's soft breath on your lips, stopping right before you two can connect.

It's the silent words now: kiss me, kiss me Minghao, and you almost think that this is true love when he leans in immediately after, heeding your silent requests.

Minghao's lips are plump and soft and taste slightly salty from the remains of the ocean water, in contrast to the sweet way he's got one hand cupping your chin. His thumb strokes at your skin and the touch is so light that you think you might go insane, gripping onto one of his biceps as you try to ground yourself in reality—in this moment, that you're scared might almost just be a figment of your imagination.

News-flash, it's not. In fact, this moment is very much real, very much happening, and very much one of the closest things to heaven you've experienced.

When you pull away, his hand is still on your chin and yours still rests on his arm. "I won't lie," you whisper, "I've been thinking about doing that all week."

"Me too," Minghao admits almost immediately, the revelation sending both shock and relief coursing through your veins. You let go of his arm, finally, and he drops his hold too, but you scoot closer to him so you're not sitting side by side as you face the ocean. "We shouldn't do anything else right now," he says quietly, and you know he doesn't have to say to know what you're both thinking. "I don't think you'd want the others seeing anything."

"You're right," you say with a nod, but you still interlace his fingers that are next to you with yours on the ground. Minghao squeezes your fingers back slightly in confirmation that this is very much okay. "Do you want to get something to eat? I saw some people selling fruit on our walk through the sand," he suggests after a few moments. You nod along, shuffling through the pile of clothes that are everywhere so you can find your shorts—it's sp warm out right now that your skin and swim suit have already dried off.

While you're fishing out your shorts and slipping them on, Minghao finds his hawaiian t-shirt and slips it on, although his bare chest is still very much on display, despite your poor heart's cries for him to cover it up—no! Don't let anyone else see! You blush bashfully at your newfound jealousy of others seeing Minghao the same way you do, but those thoughts are soon pushed away as he reaches out a hand to you to help you stand up. You grab his hand with a smile, following after him as you both head toward the fruit stands at the front.

"What do you want to get?" he asks you when he sees you squinting to try and see what they're selling.

"Pineapple!" you cheer when you realize one of the stands has your favorite fruit, and Minghao can feel his heart swell at the sound. "Can we please get pineapple? It's my favorite fruit and it's the best for hot days."

Minghao smiles and nods, and your heart nearly pops out of your chest. "Pineapple and mango?" he suggests as you stand in front of one of the stalls, pulling out his wallet. You nod before thinking for a moment, pulling out your own wallet before he has a hand a hand on your waist, pushing it away. "I'm paying," and it's not a question when he says it. You slowly push your wallet back into your pocket, mind racing with the thoughts of how a man can be as perfect as Minghao.

"Okay well," you reply, pulling your wallet back out in defiance, "I want to buy some fruits for the others too," you explain. "And I don't think it's fair for you to pay for all of that."

Minghao huffs, letting go of your wrist before turning back to guy at the stall. You two end up splitting the cost of five cups of fruits before returning to the set up on the sand that you have with your arms much fuller than before. Back once you're both sitting, you chat about whatever and you definitely forget how to breathe the multiple times that Minghao picks up a toothpick and feeds you the fruits himself. There's something so domestic and so comforting about the way you both smoothly speak, move, flow—being with Minghao is languid and despite your racing heart at the thought of being with him, you feel...relaxed.

This feels right.

After around an half an hour of talking, you find yourself laying on your back as you have Vernon's hat on top of your head as you listen to the ocean. "Should we go to find them? They'll probably be hungry by now and beach volleyball is starting to sound fun," you say, sitting up and readjusting Vernon's cap on your head.

"Bored of me already?" Minghao teases, sitting up as well, readjusting his shirt.

You roll your eyes. "You know that isn't it. The fruit isn't gonna taste as good later, even if we keep it in the cooler. It tastes better fresh," you reason.

"Fine fine," he murmurs in defeat and you grin, getting up to pick up two of the cups of fruit while Minghao grabs the other two.

"You know where they went?" you ask him, looking to your left and right, trying to recall which direction the boys left in.

"This way I think," Minghao says, pointing to your left and you squint, nodding excitedly when you see some volleyball courts in the far distance.

"Wow, that's pretty far," you think out loud as you both start walking in that direction.

"Can't handle it?" he coos, looking down at you as he takes his effortlessly long strides.

You scoff, turning your head away as you feign nonchalance. "Whatever."

"I'm joking," Minghao says quickly, reaching one hand over to pick up the cups of fruit your holding so that he's holding all four now. You're about to protest but he simply turns his arms away from you so they're out of your reach.

"Thank you," you say sheepishly, holding your hands behind your back as you two begin to speed up your pace when you both realize that the fruit will grow warm soon. It takes around seven to eight minutes for you guys to reach the volleyball courts, calling out to Vernon when you reach hearing range. "We brought fruit!" you yell, pointing at the cups that Minghao graciously carried for you.

The boys run over, almost all of them in a panting, sweating mess.

"It's like you read our minds," Seungcheol tells you and Minghao, picking a strawberry and stuffing it into his mouth.

Seokmin nods along, picking up a piece of mango. "We were just talking about how we're already hungry again."

"Yeah," Chan agrees, "and I think Mingyu was gonna pass out in the next five minutes if you didn't bring him something to eat." You all look at Mingyu who's sitting across from you, legs out and upper body leaning on his arms behind him as his face is scrunched up—he nearly looks like he's dying.

"Fuck you all!" he groans, falling back onto the sand. "I swear, Jun and Cheol were targeting me! They kept hitting the ball in my direction!"

Jun laughs at that, throwing a hand up to Seungcheol for a high-five. "Damn, I didn't think you'd catch on."

"How could I not!?" Mingyu whines, sitting up again to pick up another fruit. "I was on the verge of the death because of you guys."

Jeonghan ticks his tongue as everyone laughs, "Ah, don't be so dramatic Gyu, we were just having fun. Plus, who doesn't want to win."

Mingyu grumbles as he kicks some sand Jeonghan's way as everyone retreats back into the normal conversation of the plans next. After a few moments of discussion, you all decide to go back to your set up and stay there until sunset before heading home.

Once you all make your way back, the hours are spent chatting, building a moat (Mingyu and Chan seemed especially interested in this for some reason), and playing in and out of the water. As the sky begins to merge from blue to yellow to a deep orange, you begin cleaning up. At the moment, you aren't sure who brings it up, but the word "sleepover" gets thrown around and everyone is practically on their knees, asking to sleep over at Vernon and your place.

"Why our place?" Vernon complains. "Why not Minghao and Jun's? Or Joshua and Jeonghan's?" he begins throwing out the other's names.

"Because we like yours the most," Joshua says simply, everyone nodding their heads vigorously in agreement. Vernon huffs and looks at you for help, but you only shrug—you aren't sure how to respond to this and you aren't going to pretend like you aren't a teensy bit excited about the chance of Minghao spending the night (even though there'll be 12 other guys in your home).

"You guys owe us," Vernon finally says with a deep sigh, "big time."

The car ride back begins by Vernon, Joshua, and Wonwoo yelling at all of the passengers to not get sand into the car, and while you all desperately try to heed by their wishes, it's nearly impossible. You should've expected that nothing with this group is ever especially peaceful, but you're pleasantly surprised by how every event with them somehow has you bursting into laughter until your stomach hurts.

When you all return to your apartment, it takes a messy, chaotic hour or two for everyone to sort out when they would be taking showers, realizing that you should have planned this better once you knew that fourteen people would be scrambling to try and use your and Vernon's single shower. Once you're all washed up, you're left sitting in the living room, trying to figure out how you're going to pass the next few hours. Of course, one brings up Mario Kart, and suddenly they all perch against the couch trying to see who can beat Wonwoo.

It's now when you start to feel the exhaustion of the day catch up to you, recalling how you told Seungkwan that beach days make you tired. You excuse yourself to your room, locking the door behind you before slipping under the covers and nuzzling against the pillow.

In the silence—well not really silence, since apartment walls are thin and boys are loud, but still—of your own room, you find yourself catching a moment for you to properly think. And then it all comes crashing onto you.

Minghao. His lips, his eyes, his arms, his hands, his fingers, his lips (yes, his lips again), his touch, his gaze—and holy hell do you need more. You almost whine out loud into the sheets at the thought of having to wait for him any longer, your brain fuzzy from both your exhaustion and the tingling feeling that courses through your nerves.

Your mind races through the endless possibilities of what has happened and what can happen and before you know it you're falling asleep.

It's two hours later at around 8pm when you hear your phone buzzing by your chest, hardly lifting your head to see who it is. When you recognize the caller as Vernon, you hit the answer button, putting minimal effort into lifting the phone up to your ear as you grumble.

"God, do you ever stop sleeping?" he huffs on the other end, and you can faintly hear someone in the background laugh. You rub your eyes as you push yourself out of bed, rummaging through your drawer to pick out a cardigan to throw on.

"Sorry," you grumble with a yawn. "Beach days make me tired."

"I can see that. Anyways, we're in the living room ordering takeout, so hurry up if you want to have your choice," he threatens playfully.

"Alright alright," you mumble, trying to make your bed a little neater before leaving your room and heading towards the living room. They're all there, as expected, some movie playing on the TV as Jihoon is playing something on the guitar (where the hell did he get a guitar from?!) and Wonwoo and Mingyu are playing yet another game of Mario Kart on the Switch tablet.

"And she's here!" Chan exclaims, causing some eyes to turn to you. Minghao, sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen island turns to you quickly, and the eye contact has you turning into mush immediately.

"When you went to your room," Vernon begins to say, distracting you from your thoughts and placing a hand on your shoulder, "I thought you were just going to chill for a bit. I didn't expect you to be napping."

Seungkwan comes in and swats Vernon's hand away from you. "You're so judgemental Sollie! Let her be!"

"Thank you Seungkwan!" you agree immediately, turning to raise an accusing eyebrow at Vernon. He rolls his eyes and steps away, holding up his phone which has the food order on the front screen.

"Hey, I'm ordering your food!"

You step back, putting your hand sup in surrender. "Okay fine! Fine! What are we getting tonight?"

"Mexican!" Jeonghan calls out. "It's my treat!" Everyone cheers as you tell Vernon your order, sitting down on the ground in the living room as everyone bunches up in the middle to begin discussing the next big problem you all have—sleeping.

It seems like no one quite thought this out earlier but your apartment is small and fitting fourteen people into this space seems near impossible, especially when you know that they'll all insist on you sleeping alone in your own room. It's a hassle to pull out all the extra pillows and bed sheets that you have, everyone trying to clear space to make as many makeshift beds on the ground as they can.

Somehow, you're all able to fit eight "beds" in the living room, Chan and Seungkwan being the lucky ones to squeeze into the extra space that Vernon has left on his bed and Jun and Jihoon calling the spots on the sofa and arm chair. From there on out, time seems to pass easily with the thirteen of them, and you're starting to understand how Vernon's been able to be their friend for so long. The hours pass quickly and by ten p.m., you're spent and tired from the day—too tired to go on.

Before you know it, you're helping them all make the final touches to the makeshift beds, bringing out as many extra comforters as you can in hopes to make sleeping on the ground a bit more comfortable. Bidding goodnight, you wave to them all and retreat to your room, but not before staring at Minghao for maybe a little too long. He stares back, of course, and anyone else would miss it, but you don't—the way he nods slightly, before turning away to say something to Jun.

III. OUR DAWN IS HOTTER THAN DAY

It's eleven when you hear the knock on your door, and it's embarrassing how quickly you scramble out of bed to open it. On the other side, as expected, is Minghao. You're pulling him in without a second of hesitation, grabbing his neck and slamming his lips onto yours hard. His hands are making their way onto his hips immediately, moving up and down along your waist and torso to feel every inch of you that he can. You've both been waiting for this for ages, and it's about time you lose control.

"Hao," you whine softly as he presses you into your wall, his tongue running against the corner of your mouth. His only response is kissing you deeper, teeth clashing as you seek to explore every last bit of each other. Minghao swears he feels his dick twitch at the way you call him by his nickname, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

"You'll drive me crazy," he murmurs, kissing down your neck as you run your hands up and down his arms to feel the curve of his arms.

"That's the—ah—plan," you grunt as you sucks at one spot on your skin. Minghao continues peppering your skin with kisses before you feel like enough his enough, intertwining your fingers in his hair and pulling his head up so he can look at you. "Can I suck you off?"

Minghao is, undeniably, taken aback by your forwardness, and while his head his telling him to take his time with you right now, his other head is telling him to give in. In any other situation with any other girl, he would be denying you, taking his time to at least finger you first but he's been too pent up and too horny since the first time you kissed him to say no.

You're surprised when he quickly nods—you aren't the type to dive right into this kind of stuff but Minghao has been doing something that's reconnecting the wires in your brain, causing the overwhelming urge to sink to your knees for Minghao to crash into you.

The second you're on your knees, you have your hands on the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down at once with his boxers to reveal his length, long and pretty and hard with a bead of pre-cum dribbling off the end. You reach up, holding the base with a hand as you look up at Minghao to meet his eyes.

"Fucking hell," he groans, throwing his head back before you reply with a hiss.

"Quiet! They can't hear," you remind him, before adjusting yourself on your knees so you're in a better position to prod his tip at the front of your mouth. You drink in the way Minghao's breath hitches as your lips wrap around him, tongue swiping at the tip softly before pulling back.

"Don't—" he takes a deep breath, "don't be a fucking tease."

"'m sorry," you mumble, pulling your head back. "Can't help it." You kind of mean it and you kind of don't. Honestly, you aren't sure what to think—all you want to do is make Minghao feel good and do it now. Minghao notices the desperate glint in your eyes, and he takes this chance to wind his fingers into your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift pony tail so he can move your face in the face that he wants. The thought has you both going down into a spiral.

Minghao looks down at you so intensely that you think you just might cum from the look alone, but then he's speaking. "You okay with this?" he asks quietly, running a thumb along your lower lip with the hand that's not holding your hair back.

"Yes," you reply almost instantly, and your eagerness has his eyes darkening—you can see it.

"Fuck," he groans, leaning back again while he takes your hand that isn't wrapped around his length up to his thigh. "Tap twice if you want me to stop, 'kay?" You nod quickly, hoping Minghao will get the idea that you're beginning to grow impatient.

Message received, it seems because before you know it, Minghao is guiding your mouth back to the tip of his length, so you can take him in. Once you have your lips wrapped around him, he pushes you forward more, causing your eyes to widen as you realize he's nearly hitting the back of your throat. You take this as your chance to do exactly what you've been aching for, and you begin to bob your head back and forth.

The moan Minghao lets out is near perfection, and you're immediately encouraged to push more, to push deeper, to do whatever it takes to make him make that sound again. You're about to do it again before you feel your hair being tugged so that you're fully pulled off his cock. "Fuck," he chokes out, looking down at the sight of you with red, puffy lips and blown-out eyes. "Do that again," he demands, and you don't waste a second before you wrap your mouth around him and push down as far as you can. His hand is pushing at the back of your head, his soft words from above encouraging you to go harder to go deeper because you're his angel and he knows you can do it.

God, the words that are spilling out of his mouth are downright filthy but they're messing with your head and before you know it your moving your head back and forth in sync with Minghao's hips that are snapping forward slightly, causing him to batter the back of your throat. It's not the most comfortable feeling but the discomfort definitely not what you're thinking about when you hear Minghao's pants—his soft groans that escape his lips now that you've got him so desperate.

There's drool running down your chin and it's so messy but it's so hot and it has your pussy aching but you can't even think of relieving yourself—not when you can feel the vein on the understand of his dick against your tongue, not when his hand is laced in your hair with such a tight hold you think you might just pass out, not when you know he's so close to his release within minutes all because of you. "Fuck," he grunts again, snapping his hips once more, particularly harder and sloppier this time. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'll come soon."

Your jaw is aching by now but it doesn't compare to the throbbing you feel in your panties—god, you're going to go crazy. You use your hand to rub whatever of his length you can't fit in your mouth, using these last few moments to let Minghao jut his hip and shove your mouth further onto him and holy hell do you love it. You can feel it coming with the way he twitches inside your mouth and you can tell he's about to come when he pulls you off of him, before you're opening your mouth wide again, eyes silently begging him: inside my mouth.

It's like earliedirtr, when you kissed, except now it's so much more frantic, so much more ecstatic—Minghao hears your silent requests and only takes a second to push himself back into your mouth. You only need to suck once or twice before you feel it in your mouth—his cum, hot and shooting down your throat. He pulls out after that, you taking a second to swallow and then lick the glossy tip, your body filling with pride at the way you see his leg twitch.

"God—fuck," Minghao finally manages to say between sputtered breaths, "You're so hot." He pulls you up by the arm as he slips his boxers and shorts back on, placing a hand on your hip as he brings you up for a fierce kiss. Your lips are all swollen and Minghao is extra gentle with the way he runs his tongue along them, kissing you so softly you almost forget that he just face-fucked you less than a minute ago. He's pressed up against the wall right now, but takes this moment to flip you both so it's you who's leaning back.

Minghao pulls away from your lips, chuckling at the way yours chases his in the few seconds after, before connecting his lips to your neck like earlier. "Let me give you something in return, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, nodding dumbly the second you feel his hand slip down your shorts, ghosting over your panties.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans as he pressed down through your panties.

"Hao," you moan, as he rubs little circles on your clit over the fabric, "please, please, hurry." Minghao chuckles and usually you'd be embarrassed but then again, there's nothing usual about getting fingered by your roommates best friend while all of his friends are asleep in the next room over. Minghao still is going slow with you, taking an extra moment to slowly push your panties aside. You're growing so impatient, the throbbing between your legs getting so impatient, that you think you might start sobbing. "I've been so good, Hao, please? I wanna cum," you beg, meeting Minghao's eyes as you look up at him.

God, you're doing something to him, he thinks—you might just be the death of him. You just look so cute and so desperate and the way your eyes are already glossy has his dick hard again. The fact that he didn't even have to ask you to beg for him is more than enough for a million thoughts to be racing through his mind, but in all honesty, the only thing he wants to focus on right now is making you come.

"Angel, fuck," he murmurs, into your skin, placing a kiss on your collarbone as he uses one hand to lift your shirt up to your neck so he can hold one of your tits, the other hand running through your folds so he can coat his fingers in your slit. "You wanna come?" he coos, prodding one finger at your entrance, and he thinks he might tease you a little longer but then he sees how quickly you respond and it has his resolve crumbling. He sinks is finger in and it's so long and so thick and reaches places in one go that you can't even even imagine of reaching with your own fingers.

You let out a deep sigh, instinctively grinding down on his hand so that your clit is also brushing against his palm adding to the stimulation. Minghao is gentle in the first few moments, moving his finger in and out at a steady pace before you murmur his name once more, causing him to push a second finger inside. "Oh my god, Minghao," you moan, and his eyes shoot up at yours, using the hand that was at your tits to cover your mouth.

"Quiet," he demands, as he continues to fuck you with your fingers. The sound of your wetness and his fingers against your gummy walls is echoing though the room and all you can think about is how dirty and how erotic this feels, and you moan again quietly again at the thought. Minghao's fingers still inside of you at the sound, and you feel your eyes widen and tear up once more. "Be quiet, or I'll stop," he murmurs, resuming his ministrations once he sees you nod.

"Minghao," you say quietly, throwing your head back when you feel him start to play with one of your nipples. "Feels so—so good," you hiccup, doing your best to keep quiet. He's fucking into you ruthlessly now, the pads of his fingers hitting spots you didn't even know existed, and you know your end is close by the way your vision nearly goes white. You grind against his hand harder, and Minghao picks up on the subtle movement.

"Gonna cum?" he breaths out and you don't even have it in you to say anything, your only response being your quickened movements. "C'mon angel, cum for me," he whispers into your ear and maybe it's his voice or maybe it's the way his fingers have you seeing stars or maybe it's the stimulation of your clit against his palm or maybe it's everything combined but you're cumming hard and fast within seconds around his fingers, and holy shit you think that might just be the best orgasm of your life.

You're left panting as Minghao's fingers slow down inside of you, twitching every few seconds from the overstimulation, before he's pulling them out of you and your panties completely. You want to hide your face, looking away when you realize how wet they are. "Why're you looking away?" Minghao asks, grabbing your chin so you can look at him. "It's hot," he tells you with a shrug, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, raising a brow. You're slightly embarrassed, yes, but you'd be a fool to try and deny him, opening up your mouth and suck your own wetness off him when he presses his fingers into your mouth.

After you swirl your tongue around him a few times, he pulls his hands back, replacing his fingers on your mouth with his lips, kissing you sweetly. You bring your hands up to his hair, moving your lips in unison as he places one hand on your waist, pulling your shirt back down to cover you.

"That was fun," you finally say when you're both pulling away.

"You're gonna drive me up a wall," Minghao mutters under his breath, taking a small step back. "But it was." He's silent for a moment before speaking again. "I'm gonna head back—wouldn't want anyone to wake up and find out I'm not where I supposed to be."

"You think someone would wake up?"

Minghao chuckles, and you feel those butterflies again. "You were pretty loud," he says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of your neck.

"Whose fault is that again?" you ask.

"Dunno," Minghao says casually. "He must be super hot though."

You click your tongue as Minghao walks backward toward your door. "Hmm, I'll have to agree with that."

He smiles and kisses you hard one last time before ruffling your hair. "Sleep well angel."

a/n. not even going to bother reading this through because i'll get embarrassed. dw guys i'm working on a better hao fic soon >_<

#xu minghao #xu minghao smut #xu minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao drabbles #minghao imagines #minghao smut #minghao fanfic #minghao #seventeen imagines #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #📝 writing

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luveline · 2 years

Text

𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary jealousy makes people do crazy things. when steve finds out you’re going on a date with eddie munson, he devises a plan involving one pair of binoculars, one robin, four adopted children and an important question. [7k]

warnings gn!reader, ditzy reader, protective steve, childhood friends to lovers, pining steve, mutual pining, fluff, love confessions, slight hurt/comfort, soft steve, steves pov, eddie fucking munson ♡ tw for toaster bathtub joke

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Steve knows you're outside not because you told him you'd be visiting him at work today, but because you're talking to yourself. You quieten as you pull open the door, a smile on your face that hasn't changed since he first met you in the third grade. Some kid had pushed you down and when he'd asked if you were okay you'd smiled just like that, like you hadn't been pushed at all.

"What are you talking about?" he asks lightly.

You stop in the middle of the store and blink. "What?"

He skirts around the front desk and wraps you up in a hug. You're still at first like you usually are, though you slowly relax under his touch and hug back.

"What were you saying? Before you came in?" he asks, rubbing your back with both arms.

"Um… I don't really remember."

Steve holds you at arm's length to assess your face. You're lying to him. He can tell from the way your top lip twitches towards your nose, almost pouting.

You drop your arms from his waist and take a step back. Steve has years of knowledge on your whims and whiles and is reluctant to let you move away from him just yet, his hand clasped loosely around your wrist.

You smile and your hands float at your sides like lily pads bobbing in the air. He decides not to pry, returning to his station behind the Family Video desk. You hop up onto the counter and watch him from over your shoulder.

"Where's Robin?" you ask.

"I'm starting to think you like her more than me."

You smile at him softly and he doesn't know what it means. It's alarming. Robin appears from the backroom before he can work himself up over it, a crate of tapes in her arms.

She groans as she puts them down on the counter. "I miss Scoops Ahoy."

"Cute uniforms," you mumble.

"It's not the uniforms I miss," Robin says, letting her forehead fall to the counter. "My arms hurt. I'm not cut out for manual labour. If Steve were a better man he'd do all the heavy lifting for me."

"Where's the equality in that?" Steve asks, looking to you to see if he's made you laugh.

He has. Your lips quirk up into a startled smile as a rush of breath escapes you, a lilting miracle of sound.

He realises then that he's doing something he's not allowed to do and decides to be a better man. "I'll do the rest, Robs."

Robin looks up, surprised at his charity. "You will?" she asks, not trusting his genuineness.

"Sure. Keep Y/N entertained while I'm gone."

Once he's securely in the backroom he starts to freak out. He's been harbouring a mess of feelings for you ever since he hit puberty but has discarded them time and time again. Your friendship is longstanding and special to him, even when closeness with you has been hard to obtain. Not because you're purposefully distant, but because you're a total dreamer.

Head in the clouds your entire life, Steve has wrangled through hoops to try and protect you from bullies, from bad friends, from your own distraction; you forget to eat, you're lucky you graduated because your attention span for anything that doesn't interest you is non-existent, and you hate parties so your circle is a closed loop consisting of just Steve.

Now you've both graduated there's a lot of time to be spent together.

Steve is suffering through it. His life feels like a constant game of look but don't touch.

That might be unfair. He's definitely very touchy.

You're giggling to yourself as he carries the second box of tapes in and heaves it down by the first. Robin's laughter is much more evil.

"What's funny?" he asks suspiciously.

"I'm giving Y/N tips."

"Tips?" he asks, so used to Robin's absurdity that he starts to unpack his second box, elbows brushing Robin's as she hums.

"Mm-hm." She taps her nails over a plastic case and leans towards him. "Boy tips."

"And what would you know about boys?" he asks her.

"I'm not stupid. Boys are like… frogs."

"Frogs," Steve repeats dryly.

"Slimey. Predictable. Easily disected."

"Green," you say seriously.

Steve chokes on a laugh and drops the tape in his hand back into the box of new arrivals to cover his mouth with a fist.

"Babe, what?" he asks.

You look at him and shake your head lightly. He knows he's not gonna get any answers from you, trying for nonchalance as he asks, "Boy tips? For who?"

"They have a date."

"You do?" Steve asks you. He almost snaps his neck. Robin coughs to cover a laugh.

A knife in his chest. Twisting. Steve's definitely been stabbed. He looks down to his sternum and doesn't find a wound.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, pretending that's why his lungs have exploded. He's gonna suffocate to death any second now.

"I didn't think you'd have any boy tips," you say, clearly surprised at his surprise.

Whatever. Steve takes a huge breath in through his nose and becomes your friend again, rather than a jealous idiot.

"Y/N," he says, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I am a boy."

"I've noticed."

"So I know what boys like."

"No, you know what you like," Robin says. "You don't know what Eddie Munson likes. You're different genres."

"You're going on a date with Eddie Munson?" he asks you, almost shouting. Not his smoothest moment.

"Friday," you say, in the sometimes infuriating way that you do, like you have no indication that he's shocked. And he's shocked.

"When did he ask you out?" Steve asks.

Robin smirks behind her hand. Steve would love it if she had, like, a miniscule amount of compassion. An atom's worth, for his struggle.

"I asked him," you say.

Steve needs to flee. He can't because he would look insanely obvious so he cracks on his customer service smile and tries to stop asking questions.

He fails. "You like Eddie Munson?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm going on a date."

An insane wave of jealousy sloshes around inside him. Or maybe the slurpee he'd had a half hour ago. Whatever it is, he's nauseous.

He's also confused (a common theme when it comes to you.) He'd had no clue you were dating, or looking to date, no clue this was a lane that was open. And you're so pretty, so magnetic, so disgustingly special and this Munson kid is gonna snap you right up if he has any sense at all.

Steve isn't proud of anything that he does next.

"I heard he's a drug dealer," he says.

Your eyes are wide. Not in horror, as he'd hoped, but puzzlement. "Is he?"

"For sure. The devil's lettuce, Mary Jane, marijuana, everything."

"I thought they were all the same," you say, perplexed, your voice like an ebbing wave.

They are all the same. He was hoping you didn't know that. "Right. What if he gets you hooked on something?"

Robin frowns at him. "Since when are you so judgemental? We've been high together. Like, fifty times."

He steps on her foot. Robin, unused to him fighting back so quickly, gasps in outrage and steps on his foot right back. What ensues is an undignified battle of shoes that has him throwing his arm out and hitting her in the stomach.

"What's your problem?" she asks, eyebrows pinched.

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Sorry! I think you broke my foot."

He flinches when he remembers you're there and watching, only you're not there and you're definitely not watching, having made your way to the two boxes of new movies on the counter. You're sorting through them slowly and singing something to yourself under your breath so quietly he can barely decipher the words. The loudest part is your inhales, familiar, small intakes of air.

"I told them boys like it when you slip them the tongue," Robin whispers smugly.

Steve steps on her foot again and gets promptly slapped in the arm, hard enough to ache.

Later, when Robin's left and the store's finally closing and you're waiting at the door for Steve to drive you home, he tries to slander Eddie again. He almost feels bad.

"You know he's still in high school, right? Isn't that a little young for you?" he asks.

He flicks up the collar of his jacket and switches off the neon lights. You hold the door open, leaning against it with your back arched, like a doll that's fallen down. He pokes the naked skin you've accidentally exposed, a taunting sliver of hip, as he walks past you.

"He's twenty."

Again, Steve knew that. He was just hoping you didn't.

"The whole still being in high-school thing doesn't bug you?" he asks as he locks the door.

You shift from foot to foot beside him, cold now that the sun has disappeared for the night. You shove your hands deep into your pockets and kick the floor.

"I don't know," you say.

He feels bad for trying to dissuade you when you sound like that, insecure.

Despite his selfish wants, he says, "No, I mean. It's totally fine. You're the same age."

"Right," you agree quickly.

"Right," he echoes.

The two of you climb into the BMW and the silence feels unnatural. Conversation between the two of you has always been easy. Now it's stilted.

He sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair furiously and starting the car.

"You know… I've heard he's really nice," he says.

You perk up. "Yeah?"

"He's in a band, too. A rock band. You like that stuff. You'd be good together," he says, unconvincing even to himself.

Each word could be demonstrated as a plier held to his teeth, slowly pulling. It's agony to stick up for his competitor. No, he corrects himself, not a competitor, because you don't like him. Steve's alone in his pining.

"I don't know about all that," you whisper.

"You don't have to be nervous, okay? I'm sure he's a nice guy and that you'll have fun."

You don't seem very cheered up.

He unclenches his jaw and sneaks a look at you. You're picking the hemming of your long sleeve with a thoughtful look in place. Steve thinks, Fuck, they must really like him.

"Seriously, babe."

You drop your head against your shoulder. "Can I sleep at your place?"

He should say no. "Yeah, of course you can."

"I think there's a racoon living in my attic."

"I'll come take a look tomorrow."

"Thank you."

You tumble out of the car and up the gravel to Steve's house, unlocking the door with a practised ease before running up the stairs. Steve follows with little urgency behind you.

"Babe?" he asks, closing the door behind him.

"I need the bathroom," you call.

Steve nods and beelines for the kitchen, looking for something to make that you'll enjoy and that won't take a year off of your life expectancies. If Steve were by himself he'd skip dinner or order something greasy, but he thinks you should have a proper meal.

He's got a can of soup warming over the burner when you come back down, having switched your outfit for something comfy, clothes you keep in the bottom of his wardrobe for such occasions.

"Pee your pants?" he asks, grinning.

You hit your hip into his on purpose and hoist yourself onto the counter to watch him stir.

"Watch it! Can't you see I'm performing a culinary miracle?"

"It smells nice." Your face floods with happiness.

"It's your favourite one."

"They don't sell my favourite in Bradley's anymore."

"It was at the back of the cabinet. Might get food poisoning," he says.

He's lying through his teeth – he'd gone up to some fancy Indianapolis grocery store and bought a fuck load. He prays that your attention stays on him and not the cabinet behind your head where evidence of his affection hides in wait.

"Yum," you say.

"There's ciabatta in the bread bin. Do you want, like, the works?"

"Balsamic vinegar," you nod your head sagely. "Yes."

He feels a tendril of fondness curl around his heart.

Fed and watered you crawl into Steve's bed like you always do, smack dab in the middle, sheets pulled up to your nose. Your moaning nonsense to yourself about being greedy and evil demons that cause bloating.

"I told you to slow down," he murmurs as he climbs in beside you, the two of you smelling like spearmint toothpaste.

Your hands smell like soap as you bat at him uselessly. "Shut up, Steve."

He moves onto his back and sighs. "You have such an attitude problem."

"I do not."

He throws his hand out fast and squeezes your sensitive waist. You gasp and pull away, giggling as his hand chases you. He digs his fingers into your ribs until you're panting for air, your legs kicking him away from you.

"Stop, Steve. Steve, Steve, Stevie, please stop." Your words are garbled with laughter.

"I can't hear you."

"Stop!" you cry out. "Please."

He pulls his hand away and feels smug at how little effort it took to get you that badly. "I didn't know you could shout that loudly, babe."

"Only for you," you say, catching your breath.

Steve feels his cheeks go red. Physically feels the blood blossom under his skin. He clears his throat and turns away from you, flicking off the light fast so you can't see his embarrassment clear as day.

You calm your breathing and Steve calms his heart. After a few minutes there's a dead silence. Not even the sound of a passing car.

"It's so quiet," you say.

"It was."

Your hand at his back. He suppresses chills as your knuckles move over the dip of his spine and then over, your palm smoothing down his arm until you find his hand. Another one of your quirks when you're tired and dizzy with content, you search for his fingers and twine them with your own as you talk.

"Thanks for dinner. You're a better cook than you'd think, Steve. S'like being at Enzo's but with none of the tables and chairs. Or the music."

He rubs his thumb gently over the back of your hand where it rests on his thighs and chuckles. "I'll give the chef your compliments."

"Thank you."

Another stretch of silence, broken up only by the sound of your breathing. Steve's more familiar with your breathing than his own. He thinks of nights where he'd feigned sleep and watched the rise and fall of your chest through barely parted lashes.

With his back to you it's easy to pretend you're more than friends. He pulls your joined hands to his chest and worries your skin with the pad of his thumb, a thousand thoughts rattling around his brain.

"Y/N," Steve says suddenly, unsure if you're still awake.

"What?" you ask quietly.

"Don't listen to Robin, okay? Don't… don't try and tongue kiss Munson the first time."

You inhale weirdly. "I won't."

"Good." He moves your hand back to your chest and drops it gently. "Goodnight," he says.

You don't say anything back.

Dustin sits under the Family Video desk with his radio contraption that Steve doesn't understand, him and Robin having entered a surprisingly easy conversation. Less surprising upon discovering the topic: Steve's ineptitude, Steve's idiocy, Steve's hopelessness.

"I feel sorry for him," Dustin says conversationally.

"Really sorry for him."

"Because it's his third snub in as many years-"

"And that's not counting each Scoops Ahoy disaster-"

"Exactly. And, it's like, going on how many years of being friends?" Dustin asks.

"Twelve," Steve says, resigned to his fate and feeling very pathetic where he manually ticks through returns on the computer. He doesn't even look up.

"Twelve years to make a move and now he's too late," Dustin says.

"Well, never say never," Robin says, her voice high.

Steve frowns and looks through the screen for a moment before turning his gaze over his shoulder to where Robin lounges on the floor, legs crossed and a book between her thighs.

"What?" he asks.

"What?" she repeats.

They stare at each other. Steve's expression changes from depressed to incensed.

"Oh my god, you know something."

"I don't know anything."

They stare at each other more. Steve doesn't believe her even slightly. He knows Robin. They've been friends for an entire year by this point. Steve would even say that they're best friends. He knows when she's lying.

"'Never say never?'" he quotes.

Dustin has stopped messing with his technology to watch. His head moves one way and then the other like he's following a tennis ball, his brown curls bouncing around his ears.

"It's a common saying-" Robin defends.

"But why did you say it?"

Tense silence.

"You do know something," Dustin says. Excitement gives his face a boyish charm.

Robin closes the book between her thighs and smiles awkwardly. Steve feels his heart leap into his throat when she tilts her head to the side guiltily and sighs.

"Shit," she mutters.

Operation Stakeout is redundant, according to Mike.

"An operation and a stakeout are basically the same thing," he mutters.

"That's not true," Dustin says, know-it-all tone in play. "A stakeout is always an operation but operations aren't always stakeouts."

Lucas eats a handful of chips noisily. Max groans.

"It feels redundant," Robin says.

"It's about to feel jeopardised," Steve says scathingly, forcing her head back down where the six of them hide behind a trimmed hedge outside Enzo's.

"When's it my turn with the binoculars?" Robin asks.

"Never," Dustin says. There isn't a trace of sympathy in his voice.

"Sexism?" she wonders to herself.

Max snatches the binoculars from Dustin’s hand and brings them to her eyes, looking through the painted window of Hawkins best Italian restaurant for any sign of you and your date.

They must look like a group of idiots. Half the gang are in dark clothing where Mike, Robin and Max had all refused to bother. Dustin had brought a camouflage net and strewn it over their heads, though most of them had shrugged it off, holding it to their shoulders like a terrible blanket.

Steve waits impatiently for Max's report.

"There they are," Max says.

He can't himself as he springs up and searches for you. They'd all watched secretly as you'd arrived and met Munson outside. He scrubbed up well. It boiled Steve's blood. In a totally fun, carefree way because he's being very normal about this whole thing. You know, if you ignore Operation Stakeout.

"Where?"

He holds his hand out for the binoculars and Max drops them heavily into his palm. Steve almost blinds himself as he brings them to his eyes, squinting for a glance at you.

"Toward the left."

"They're ordering," he says.

"They're on a date," Mike says.

Lucas makes a sad sound and eats more chips. Steve feels a sharp wave of pity for him though he quickly forgets it in favour of the look on your face. You're smiling wide but insincerely.

"Y/N is not having a good time," he says happily. "Is it evil to feel relieved?"

"Yes," a few voices say.

Dustin shrugs. "Let's hope Eddie makes them cry. Or the other way around."

"Dude." There's a silent conversation that Steve isn't privy to then that ends with Lucas and Dustin shoving each other.

"Why are we expecting this to end badly?" Max asks. "Because I'm still not convinced."

Steve watches you reach for your drink and tries not to recant his explanation with any bias. Tries. "Y/N doesn't like Munson."

"We already knew that, to be fair," Robin says, still trying to defend you now that she'd possibly exposed your secret. Guilt is a new look on her.

"Right, but not liking Eddie and liking Steve are two different things," Max says.

"Well, why wouldn't you like Eddie?" Dustin says.

"If you like him so much why don't you marry him?" Steve asks, deadpan.

"Shut up."

"I know who I'd choose," Max says.

Steve waits for a follow up because he has no clue who Max would choose. When she doesn't answer he peels his gaze from your upturned mouth and finds that the rest of the group are giving Max the same curious look.

"What?" she asks furiously. "One is clearly more attractive."

"Which one, Maxine?" Steve asks.

"Eddie," Mike and Dustin say.

"Steve," Robin and Lucas say.

Max is saved from having to answer by the ensuing argument. They can both drive. Steve is wealthy - "Generationally!" - where Eddie's less so. Steve graduated - "Barely!" - and Eddie's in his third senior year.

"He's in a band," Robin says unhappily, like she's sad that Steve isn't measuring up.

"Have you heard them play? Steve's definitely winning," Lucas says.

"Steve doesn't know who Gollum is," Dustin points out. "He's, like, socially misplaced."

"Does Y/N?" Max asks.

The group ponders. Robin takes the binoculars from Steve's hands and aims them at you again. "Wait, did Eddie get the carbonara? That's a point for Steve."

"It's an Italian staple!" Dustin defends.

"You'd think a cult leader would order something a little more adventurous."

"Hellfire isn't a cult, Steve, don't be fucking offensive."

"Okay, watch your mouth, Henderson," Steve says testily.

His knees ache from hiding and his hands are frigid. It's dark enough for Lucas to switch on a torch as he offers Max his pringles. She wrinkles her nose in disgust and the poor guy looks dejected beyond words.

A disgruntled old lady complains behind them at having to walk around them. Mike complains louder. "This is pointless."

"It's not pointless," Steve says.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't." He glares at Mike.

"It totally is! You're wasting our night to perv on someone who couldn't be less interested in you."

"I didn't ask you to come!" Steve shouts.

"I wanted to see you be wrong in person," he says.

Steve sighs because maybe he is wrong. He doesn't know what he believes anymore. He's working on the tiniest evidence that you like him, a slip of the tongue.

When you'd walked into Family Video a few days ago and asked Robin for 'boy tips', you'd said something suspicious. Steve doesn't think you know what you said. Robin thinks you're both idiots, though she thinks you're pathetic in the loveable way and Steve the pathetic way.

"Why Eddie?" Robin had asked you while he was hidden away in the backroom. "I didn't know you liked the rock and roll type. I was thinking, like, Steve's calibre. Homegrown boy next door who's a little misguided."

"Well, Steve's never gonna ask me out," you'd said.

"Thank god for that," Robin had joked awkwardly. Steve doesn't hold it against her.

When she'd relayed the conversation to him he'd been happy at first, because in most situations this would imply that you're waiting for it. That you want him to ask you out.

But you're not like most people, and you might've meant Steve in place of someone like Steve.

"I don't think he's wrong," Dustin says now.

"You're the same IQ," Mike says.

"You might be right, Wheeler," Steve huffs, holding his hands out for a turn. Robin passes them obligingly. "Y/N's so literal. They might've just been stating the obvious."

"Or maybe they thought Robin was implying they liked Steve and got defensive," Max adds.

"Or maybe it's exactly like it sounds and they have a crush on Steve," Lucas says. He wilts under Max's fierce scowl. "Or maybe they were being defensive."

"Defensive isn't really their style," Steve says, not sure what side he's on, sick with hope.

"What is their style?" Mike asks. "Delusion?"

"Shut the fuck up, man," Steve says.

"You're such an asshole sometimes," Max says.

They dissolve into bickering and Steve spies on you, watching through the binoculars with one eye pinched closed as you set down your cutlery. You're laughing.

Steve pulls the binoculars from his face and feels maybe every stage of grief as he hands them off to Dustin. "Mike's right, we're wasting the night here. If Y/N liked me, we wouldn't be camped outside Enzo's right now under the world's most threadbare throw blanket."

Mike clears his throat, and Steve knows he must have sounded pathetic when he, at odds with the cold indifference he usually sports, says, "I mean… People are complicated. El broke up with me last summer because my grandma died."

"That is not why," Max says. She sounds like she wants to be mad but can't manage it. She sounds about as happy as she has all year, so Steve decides maybe the night isn't totally wasted.

"Your grandma died?" Lucas asks.

"No."

"He just grabbed Y/N's hand," Dustin announces, one eye pressed to the binoculars.

His head is smushed against Lucas', who peers into the binoculars with his opposite eye and hums thoughtfully. "More of a caress than a grab."

Steve snatches the binoculars. "Give me that," he demands.

"You still haven't explained the spying," Max says.

Steve finds you in the restaurant. Your hand is extended across the table. You're twisting the rings around Eddie's fingers, saying something he doesn't have the talent to lip read.

"I thought that," he starts, morose, heart stomped on with every second you spend fawning over Munson's rock star hands, "if Y/N likes me, the date would be a total failure."

"Right, like halfway through the date Y/N was gonna have this amazing epiphany and come crashing through the doors, like a rom-com," Robin continues.

"That's stupid," Mike says.

Steve agrees with him. It's stupid to expect you to throw away a good chance at happiness and keep a candle burning for him instead when he's never showed any interest in you before. But, in his defense, he didn't know he was allowed.

"Whatever," he sighs. "I'm sick of thinking about it. Let's just go home."

There's an awkward silence then where everyone feels sorry for him and nobody knows what to say.

"Plenty of fi-" Lucas starts, voice lilted up in question until he's socked hard in the arm. He clears his throat. "Plenty of time left. On the clock. We can go get food?"

"Steve needs ice cream," Robin says cheerily. He scrubs his face until his eyes hurt as she continues. "He needs to eat through the heartbreak. Ice cream, pizza, moon cakes, cheese balls." She turns to him fully. "I'm really sorry your love life is so sad, but look on the bright side! You now have an excuse to watch Splash on repeat."

"Oh, goodie," he says.

He gets a round of sympathetic shoulder pats and then everyone starts to pack Dustin's spy equipment and the snacks away. There's a pounding headache between Steve's eyes and his back pops in three places as he stands. He's getting too old for shit like this. I need to go home and sleep for twelve hours, he decides. And have a self flagellating bubble bath. With a toaster.

"Shit, they're coming out."

They dive back behind the bush. Steve locks eyes with Robin. She holds her hand over her mouth as the door to Enzo's creaks open.

"What size are you?" Eddie's asking.

"I don't know. Do I have to wear the shirt?"

A handsome laugh. "No, you don't have to. It's just for club morale. Plus, it's pretty sick."

"It's not sick, it's cute."

"No, no." He's being so nice it makes Steve feel terrible for wishing bad things upon him. "Not bad sick. Good sick, like awesome."

"Right," you laugh.

Robin starts to lift her head. Steve shakes his vehemently, begging her not to. She does anyways, her eyes shifting up over the green hedge line. He tugs her shoulder urgently.

Robin starts to push against his face with her hands. It's increasingly difficult to fight her silently, especially when she smacks him straight in the soft part of his nose.

He winces and covers his face with both hands. God, are you there? He thinks urgently. It's me, Steve.

Robin gasps.

Five sets of eyes whip to her and Steve yanks her hard to the ground, covering her mouth with his hand. She licks his palm and Steve throws himself back, sprawled on the ground with his elbows stinging, his heart hammering because there's no way you didn't hear all that. He waits to be caught.

"I'll get it printed for you. Everyone has one. Like a uniform."

"Thanks for dinner," you say.

"You're welcome. I'll see you on Friday, yeah?"

"Yes. Thank you, Eddie."

Your voices stop. Steve lets himself collapse onto the sidewalk beneath, hair crushed under his neck. Your date must've gone pretty fucking well if you're going on another.

Robin's face above him. Her hair hangs down, blocking slices of her face from view.

"Don't sulk, Steve."

He glares at her. "You heard that, right? They're going on another date. Leave me here to die."

Robin's beaming. "Steve."

"It's too late. I should've- I don't know why I thought this was a good idea. I'm a loser."

"Could you stop feeling sorry for yourself for a second?" she asks.

"What's the point?"

"Steve," Robin laughs. "They didn't kiss." He swallows around the dryness in his mouth. "They didn't kiss," she repeats. "Eddie tried it, but…"

"Total head turn," Dustin says, the top of his head touching Robin's as he comes to stand over Steve, his shoes at Steve's shoulder.

"Doesn't mean anything. They're still going on another date," Steve says.

"Dummy," Max says, joining the two hovering above him.

Mike and Lucas join soon after. "You're definitely a loser-" Mike says.

"Dude."

"If you don't try," Mike finishes.

Steve looks up into the circle of their faces. They look super weird from this angle. Too happy. It's never a good thing when they're all smiling the way that they are. Hope in this family turns into stupid decisions.

"The head turn was on purpose?" he asks.

He's crushed by their hesitation.

"Well, it's Y/N," Robin sighs. She rolls her eyes at his expression. "Nah, I'm messing with you. It was definitely on purpose."

He covers his face with his hands and stares at his friend's through parted fingers. "Shit."

A ruckus of laughter and smiles as Robin offers a hand to pull him up off of the ground. "Alright, come on, dingus, we have work to do."

"Work?" he asks.

"T-minus six days and… twenty two hours until their second date," Dustin says, checking his watch. "Six days to make a move, Harrington. Can you do it?"

It only takes him three.

Saturday and Sunday are spent feeling sorry for himself and sick with worry that he can't make a move or that his move won't be reciprocated.

But then he sees you on Monday and can't really stand it anymore. You'd turned your head. You hadn't let Eddie kiss you.

Steve needs to know if you'll let him.

You're all in blue today with your eyebrows pinched up, looking sad. He knows from experience that you aren't sad at all, only thinking, sitting on the hood of his car with your legs pulled up. You're demure. You're probably an angel.

"How long have you been out here?" he asks, coming to a stop in front of you.

"I'm too afraid to come see you," you say. It's more honest than Steve had been expecting. Certainly more straightforward than you tend to be.

"You're seeing me now."

You look up into his face. The sun behind you, your face in shadow and your hair kissed by golden light, you open your hands over your thighs. Steve thinks of Lovers Lake, the Victoria flowers bobbing on the surface. Green, soft cups over dark water.

"I'm seeing you," you say.

You twist your fingers together and the lily pad turns to a water lily, your fingertips a tight bud.

You're nervous.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and leans back slightly to take you in.

He lifts his chin at you. "How did your date go?" he asks.

"It was okay. Eddie's a nice guy. He's… interesting."

"Yeah?"

You hum. "Why are you asking me?"

"We're friends. I want to know if you had fun."

You shrug your shoulders and turn your haze to the hood of the BMW, scratching your nail over an imperfection he can't see.

Steve's unnerved to see you so still. He waits for your legs to kick or for your hands to fidget, to wear holes into the hem of your shirt.

"I don't think we're friends, Stevie," you say finally.

He actually feels mad. It shocks him, but he does, and he won't shy away from it. "Why did you ask Munson on a date?"

"He can drive. He's nice to girls. He's good looking." You stop scratching but don't look at him. Your ankle swings towards his car, stops before it hits the front bumper.

Your answers hurt his feelings, little pinpricks of annoyance? Jealousy? He doesn't know what he feels. He was hoping you'd say something reassuring.

He kicks himself quickly. You're not going to reassure him because you don't know he needs to be reassured. You don't know anything because he hasn't told you.

You mumble something too low for him to hear.

"What?" he asks gently. "I can't hear you."

"I asked him because I thought if-" You stop. Steve watches your hesitation turn to distress and steps forward to take your wringing hands into his.

"Don't do that," he says quietly.

You stop rubbing your wrists. "I'm trying to tell you."

"I know you are. Don't wind yourself up over it. Tell me slowly." He doesn't like this expression you're wearing. So unlike you. He wants to see your quiet face again, your features settled, your eyes bright. He bends at the waist to talk to you. "What did you think?"

"I thought if anybody in the world could make you jealous, it would be Eddie."

He works your clenched fingers open, rubbing his thumbs over the small creases in your skin. His heart thrums in his chest.

He smiles at you. "Now why do you wanna make me jealous?" he asks fondly, a hint of smugness creeping in.

You raise your eyes to his and squeeze his hands. "Steve," you say pleadingly. "Don't be cruel."

"About what?" he asks, his eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

"I know that I'm- I'm stupid, and distracted and-and I miss things, and-"

"Hey. That's not true."

You overflow.

"No, it is, it's true." You pull your hands out of his grip and cross them over your torso. Your eyes squint in efforts to stop the tears he can see gathering from spilling over, and your mouth twists up into a bitter smile. "Everyone says so. I- I don't know why I thought you would like me back."

"You like me?" he asks weakly.

You stop. "I thought you knew."

Steve's eyes flit in disbelief from your eyes to your lips, wondering if you've truly just said what you said.

Fine, whatever, he can be brave too. "If I tried to kiss you, would you let me?" he asks.

The upset wanes from your face and is replaced by a lighter kind of lovely. You pout. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Do you want me to kiss you?" he tries again.

"I don't know what the right answer is."

"I could…" Steve taps under your chin with his knuckle and lifts your face to his, eyes skipping between yours, the circle of your pupils dilated and shining. "I could never be cruel with you."

You wrap your hand around the crook of his elbow.

Understanding moves between you. He can pinpoint two realisations on your face as they happen. The first, that he isn't toying with you. That Steve had no idea how you felt, and that he hadn't known you were trying to make him jealous. The second, that you're about to be kissed.

"You were right," he says, his thumb sliding over the apple of your cheek.

"About what?" you ask, your eyes restless, clicking over each of his features in turn and getting caught on his lips.

He leans in, your mouths an inch apart. "Your date with Munson – I was jealous. But it's not about him. It's about you. You could've," he stops to laugh, bringing his second hand to the curve of your neck, "could've gone on a date with Keith and I would've been sick with it."

"Really?" you ask.

"Mm-hm," he hums lightly.

Your eyes close. Steve hesitates still, can't believe that he hasn't moved in, but he needs to say it.

"If I tried to kiss you, would you let me?" he asks again, voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Yeah, I'd let you."

His hands tremble with anticipation, a long time spent longing. He moves in, his ears pricked at the sound of your sweet inhale. A hitch, the same sound you make when you sleep beside him. The same sound you make when you're dreaming.

He spreads his hand over your thigh and kisses you.

Your lips are soft as a downy feather beneath his. You're shy, moving back as he moves forward, pliant under his guiding. He pets the juncture of your neck soothingly and pulls back fast, a short, chaste kiss. His lips burn.

"Again?" you ask.

He wades in carefully, worried to overwhelm you. You're like a wave cresting sand, falling back to push forward quickly. He's so elated to have his kiss returned that he sighs into you, palm spread wide over the dough of your thigh and squeezing carefully. He can feel your smile grow, your lips parting with it, the kiss inadvertently deepening.

You pull back. "I'm sorry."

His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. "For what?" he asks, rubbing your thigh.

"Boys don't like it when you slip them the tongue on the first kiss."

He blinks owlishly and has to step away from you to stop from laughing in your face, never at you, but laugh all the same. He smothers it with a cough and then doesn't bother, chuckling as he stands between your legs and throws his arms around you in a steel-armed hug.

You giggle and bring your forearms to the back of his head. Your wrist craned, you sift your fingertips through his hair, nails running over his scalp fleetingly.

"Right," he says. "Duh."

"I remembered," you say, sounding infinitely pleased with yourself.

He feels the heat of your body sink into his and wants to scream. The indescribable heat of your kiss plays over his chest, snaking tendrils. He feels weightless.

"The second kiss though," he says. Strictly informative. "They don't mind it, the second time."

He moves his head away from yours to meet your eyes. They're lit with mirth.

"Don't mind it, huh?" you ask knowingly.

His cheeks ache with a grin as he pulls you back in.

"You know, I saw you spying outside Enzo's," you say much later, your head tucked into Steve's chest.

He didn't know but he's not surprised. "Gonna cancel your date?" he asks.

"What date?"

"On Friday?"

"That isn't a date. I joined Hellfire Club."

Oh my god, he thinks. Eddie fucking Munson. "You're gonna have to kiss me again," he says morosely. He cheers up considerably quickly as you lift your chin, beaming.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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nariism · 9 months

Text

my brother's best friend

pair. miya osamu x gn!reader

content: fluff, attempts at humour, miya atsumu is a little shit, first loves, mutual pining

synopsis. miya osamu takes pride in the fact that he’s the smarter of the twins. he, in fact, is not (especially when it comes to you).

wc. 3.1k

a/n: om nom nom nom nom brother's best friend trope nom nom nom... ok i have to come clean about this fic i literally wrote the first draft for this in 2021 on WATTPAD and it's been sitting dormant forever up until recently. enjoy 🫶

‎oh my god, how did i end up here?

it’s the only thought repeating over and over again in osamu’s head as he sits there staring at you. you’re too preoccupied with the menu in your hands to notice his unwavering gaze, scanning through it and muttering to yourself indecisively about what to order.

of course, the question of how he ended up here on a date with you could be summarized in one simple sentence:

miya atsumu is the world’s biggest idiot.

if kita or aran were here they would surely be poking fun at him right now, lecturing him about how his dna is a perfect carbon copy of atsumu’s. and while they would be right, osamu is convinced his brother has at least 70% less brain cell capacity.

the thought makes him feel a little smug. (he’s in the class under atsumu.)

you were friends. at least as far as how often you saw each other, he considered you good friends. maybe. not that he knew all that much about you other than the fact that you were constantly... around. if he didn’t know that atsumu was the biggest knucklehead on planet earth, he would have assumed you were dating. but he knew his brother was too invested in volleyball to be seeing anyone seriously, and you didn’t didn’t seem like the type to mess around with guys like him anyways.

you were way too level-headed for that despite the raunchy, head-turning jokes you liked to tell, which honestly might be the reason why atsumu keeps you around.

whenever you came to their house, you would stick to lounging in atsumu’s room or the living room. you typically avoided disturbing osamu and the rest of their family — not like they minded having you around. no, in fact, their mother had a strange soft spot for you. you were quiet and well mannered, until it was just the three of you and suddenly an onslaught of fierce attacks on poor atsumu would commence.

for the majority of your friendship, you have stayed out of his way and he stays out of yours. you only talk to each other when deemed necessary, like when walking home from school or when you shyly greet him at the door because atsumu is on the toilet. he does, however, rejoice in the fact that there is another person on the atsumu hate train, and appreciates that you’re at least colourful with your insults. it’s impressive, really.

(he would never admit it. never. never ever. but it warms his heart a little that there’s someone out there just like him, expressing their love for miya atsumu in less conventional ways.)

you were quick witted and funny. a free source of entertainment when he would grow bored of his brother’s shenanigans. and it was a two way street, because when you needed a break from atsumu, osamu was always right there.

you were noticeably gentler with the younger of the miya twins: asking him how school was, and if he needed help with his chemistry homework, and what he had for lunch. menial little things, but sometimes he found himself thinking that it was the highlight of his day.

otherwise, your presence in his life is, as osamu considers it, indifferent.

sure, he likes to look at you. and sometimes, maybe, he wishes you and atsumu would invite him around more often. it also doesn’t help his heart when you’re so nice to him, like when you’re all having dinner together and you pretend you don’t want the last dumpling on your plate and shovel it onto his. he likes that. or when you invite yourself into their freezer for ice cream, you always make sure to grab an extra one for him. there have been multiple occasions in which you’ve wordlessly slid him your notes to copy, too.

you were good at that; knowing what others wanted and being more selfless than the average person. you’re a people pleaser, and though he and atsumu used to make fun of your type when they were kids, your charm is undeniable.

unfortunately, actually making any sort of move on you is out of the question. not only would it potentially complicate things between you and him, it would also risk putting a strain on your friendship with atsumu. making his brother’s life a living hell is what miya osamu was born into this world to do, but for some reason his stomach turns at the thought of ruining your friendship.

you were just atsumu’s cute best friend. nothing less, nothing more. and he would very much like to beat the “i fell in love with my brother’s best friend” allegations, thank you.

he realizes he’s still looking at you intently with his arms crossed over his chest. he watches as your nose scrunches a little in thought, trying to decide between their two best sellers. he sighs in relief when you get up to order for yourself, tucking a stray hair under his cap before going back to sulking with his thoughts.

atsumu had a lot of bad ideas. so many that if they sat down and listed them all out they might be there for a couple days. but this? this is his worst one yet. and how osamu managed to get roped (bribed) into this, he will never know. but here he is, and here you are, and here atsumu is not.

he really should get better at saying no to atsumu.

(“c’mon, ‘samu! please? for me?!”

“what the hell? no. that’s a shitty thing to do. just tell them ya can’t go.”

“but it’s their birthday! they were lookin’ forward to this. they’ll hate me forever if i bailed!”

“and? why would i help you? ‘specially with somethin’ so stupid. it’s your fault you didn’t plan better.”

“don’t be like that, y’know it was a last minute thing!”

a beat of silence.

“pretty please? it’s their birthday… you guys are friends too, right?”

osamu can’t believe he’s entertaining this stupid idea for even a second. you’re not an idiot. you’d know it’s him with a single glance.

“this is an all time low, even for you. they’ll notice it’s me right away. are ya crazy, ‘tsumu? hit your head or somethin’?”

“it’s just this one time! i’ll never ask ya for anythin’ ever again. never ever ever ever, i swear it.”

“...’tsumu…”

“don’t sound so tired with me! do this for your big brother. have i mentioned it’s their birthday?”

big brother? osamu scoffs loudly.

“you actually mentioned it three times. and yer only a couple minutes older than me. but... fine.”

“don’t be such a jacka- wait, what?”

“i said fine. but you owe me lunch for the next two weeks.”

“deal!”

“... are ya sure they won’t know it’s me? i mean, i really think you should reconsider-”

“oh shut up, ‘samu, we’re identical!”

“just know that i won’t hesitate to throw ya under the bus if shit hits the fan.”)

what a terrible plan. pretending to be atsumu was proving to be harder than he initially anticipated. he would have thought that spending every agonizing, waking, living hour with his brother would have trained him well enough, but atsumu is so no-chill that it’s somehow making this already horrible idea even worse with every passing second.

surprisingly, you haven’t said anything. you haven’t acknowledged the massive elephant in the room. this could only mean one of three things:

1. you’ve noticed, but you’re desperately trying to spare atsumu’s feelings and osamu’s embarrassment by not bringing it up.

2. you’re dumber than he thought. dumber than a rock, actually, if you didn’t take one look at osamu and know it was him.

3. you are a cruel, wicked, evil, deranged human being who finds osamu’s situation entirely hilarious and wants this to go on for as long as possible.

judging by your casual banter, he’s willing to bet it’s either option one or two. you’re twirling a lanyard around your finger when you finally return with your drink of choice in tow. next destination: the local aquarium. atsumu put a surprising amount of effort into planning the day.

it’s a shame he hadn’t accounted for planning himself into it.

‎he shouldn’t have agreed to come here.

spending time alone with you like this was bound to stir up feelings he’d long ago buried in the hollows of his heart. of the miya twins, osamu was always better at keeping his emotions under wraps. there were rare occasions in which he lost his cool, in which he was actually somehow worse than atsumu, but in general he was as level-headed as you were.

you’re ruining him and his plans to never acknowledge his feelings for you.

it’s unfair, really, how his heart seemingly gets lodged in his throat when you cling to his arm so tightly, laughing and pointing out all the funny-looking fish. and when you point at something called a vampire squid, raving about how long it took you to find one in animal crossing, he nearly crumbles to his knees and puts his head in his hands.

(in other words, he’s totally whipped. he’s not beating those allegations.)

osamu thought he could get used to looking at anyone’s face. he always found people boring — he grew up being the other half of his brother, after all. the miya twins are many things, but boring is not one of them, and to entertain them you have to be someone with a special brand of humour.

but now, as he looks at you with the soft blue glow from the tank shining against your face, he can’t help the thought that crosses his mind:

i could never get tired of this.

“... hailing from the depths of tropical and subtropical waters, the vampire squid feeds on marine snow.”

he blinks back into reality, eyes drifting from you to the sea creature you’re admiring, then back to you. “marine snow? sounds gross.”

“it’s the debris that falls to the lower levels of the ocean. lots of deep sea creatures feed that way since it saves them the energy of needing to go hunt.”

osamu seems skeptical. “they really just eat anythin’ like that?”

your head turns to look at him. there’s a little smile playing on your face, like you seem amused by what he just said. “sounds like someone i know.”

he makes a strange expression in response. were you talking about him? did you often bring him up when you were alone with atsumu? the soft and fond look in your eyes doesn’t help his racing heart. the idea that you and atsumu talk about him in private so sweetly makes his face burn slightly in embarrassment.

he shakes his head to get the thought out of his brain before stuffing his hands into his pockets.

your arm finds his again, locking together. it’s an oddly intimate action, even if you think he really is atsumu. he doesn’t know you to be the most touchy person on earth, though he supposes he can’t see what you’re like behind the closed doors of his brother’s bedroom. his blood boils for some reason.

you stop at the next tank, the one situated in the centre of the room filled high with kelp and schools of tiny fish. you’re looking at them with wide eyes, light shimmering in them. he could cry right now. you look like an angel bathed in the shadows of dancing fish as your gaze carefully follows a school circling around the top of the aquarium.

there’s a feeling swimming inside of him, unfamiliar and oh so dreadful. he can feel it in raging in every part of him — in his heart, in the fiery pits of his stomach, in his throat — and he knows exactly which word comes to mind.

miya osamu may be in the lowest class in his year, and he might share a single brain cell with his brother, but he’s read enough books to describe this feeling. he’s listened to enough love songs to know this ache in him.

if you asked him ten years from now, he’d tell you exactly the same thing as he would right now; that your first love is always petrifying.

“pretty, aren’t they?”

“yeah. real pretty.”

but he hasn’t looked at them even once. how could he when there’s a living, breathing angel standing next to him?

‎osamu delivers you to your doorstep that night.

it feels like a dream, the whole day and having the privilege of holding your hand and feeling your body against his.

maybe it was just the greedy monster in him speaking. the laws of the universe dictate that if it’s you and osamu, atsumu needs to be there, too. the miya twins have always come in a package. a duo. there is no just atsumu or just osamu, at least there wasn’t until you came along.

suddenly it was you and atsumu. it was atsumu and osamu, and you. but there was never just you and osamu. it didn’t work that way.

well, screw the universe and its laws. osamu never believed in that astrology shit anyways.

he’s fully prepared to keep this day an untarnished memory — something to cherish when life goes back to normal and he’s unable to stand shoulder to shoulder like this with you again.

when you lean in to kiss him, there is only one thought repeating in his mind like a mantra:

it’s just once. just one day. one last perfect memory.

you’re so close that he can feel your breath filling his lungs. his heart hammers where it rests in his chest, so loud that he can hear it thundering in his ears. it’s then that he realizes this is wrong. all of it is wrong.

he recoils back with lightning speed, and his heart aches at the sight of your disappointed and puzzled expression. but it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to atsumu either.

he cares about both of you too much to be selfish right now.

how could he possibly risk hurting two of the people he cared most about in the world? he couldn’t be that self-centred, to be able to steal a kiss from you just to keep his memories of this day perfect.

perfect doesn’t exist if none of it is real.

“i’m not… i’m not who you think i am.”

he slides the hat off his head with shame burning in his cheeks, avoiding your eyes like a child who got caught with his hand in a cookie jar. it was time for him to be honest, both with you and himself.

“look, yer really cool. and i– crap, it’s complicated, ‘kay? i might like you. like– like you, like you. i wasn’t thinkin’ straight. 'm really sorry, i know it was wrong to string you along, i was just havin’ so much fun today that–”

his mouth suddenly comes to a halt as you reach forward and capture his cheeks between your fingers, squishing them together so he’ll stop rambling.

you look at him with a confused but amused smile. “um, ‘samu? i like you, too.”

“what?” he sputters out as much as he can with his face still held in place. his brows furrow, but all rational thoughts have stopped flowing in his mind. he’s staring at you like a flabbergasted idiot, so you continue.

“why else would i agree to go on a date with you on my birthday?”

“but– i– huh?”

your head tilts. “this was a date, wasn’t it?”

it dawns on him then. it had never occurred to osamu that there was another explanation for your strange lack of acknowledgment that he is painfully easy to see through:

4. you like him and simply thought this was a date. you like him as much as he likes you, which is a stupid amount. after all, he likes you enough to go through with an infinite number of atsumu’s terrible ideas just to make you happy.

of course you weren’t that dense. of course he was found out the second you laid eyes on him. of course he had misread the entire situation because he was blinded by his brother’s boisterous claims that they were indistinguishable.

“this is ridiculous. i can’t believe you–… atsumu somehow always pulls through even when he doesn’t mean to.”

“what do you mean?”

“whadd’ya mean, what do i mean?”

“about atsumu?”

“oh, he was freakin’ out about missin’ today and wanted me to go through this whole thing pretendin' i’m him so ya wouldn’t be mad at him.”

“but he already told me he couldn’t make it today? you really didn’t have to do… all this,” you gesture to his whole body with a flick of your wrist.

at your words osamu finally crumbles to his knees in pure agony. he looks up to the sky, to whatever god has forsaken him by making atsumu his other half, and sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. he can just imagine the shit-eating grin his brother has right now.

“i’m…” he pauses, carefully selecting his next words, “going to smother him with a pillow.”

you blink at him for a moment before all the pieces fall into place.

all the times you’d gushed to atsumu about your massive crush on his twin and the way he’d complain to no end about neither of you making a move, forcing him to watch on with mild disgust as his best friend and brother made goo goo eyes at each other. all the times he would “forget” his shoes at the gym and need to run back to grab them, pushing you into small talk with osamu. all the times he would suffer through your teasing just to see the two of you walking side-by-side sharing proud little smiles.

atsumu’s resume looks something like this: world’s biggest idiot, volleyball player, third-wheel, and tired wingman.

you’ll have to thank him later.

“no wonder you’ve been acting so weird all day! i thought you were just one of those guys who gets nervous on first dates!” accompanied by this statement is a laugh that makes osamu weak.

he grumbles. “what’s so funny?”

“say what you want, but you’re as dumb as ‘tsumu.”

“no… please… don’t compare me to that nitwit… i might have a heart attack at this rate.”

you snicker quietly as you help osamu back onto his feet, eyes shimmering with joy as you let his confession sink in.

“you’re right, he is an idiot.”

“dumbass.”

“moron.”

“he’s gonna hate us even more from now on,” osamu smiles uncontrollably, inching closer to you again.

“yeah?” your lips brush against his daringly, “i can live with that.”

EXTRA:

🏷️ @hyomagiri (im dead like actually dead)

#— whispers in the wind ✧#he's so stupid i wanna kiss him so bad #haikyuu #haikyu #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x you #osamu miya x y/n #osamu miya x reader

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sainzfilm · 1 year

Note

Toto + mutual pining (maybe with driver!reader?)

pairing: toto wolff x driver!reader

a/n: HELLO I AM BACK. this has been so long and overdue but school has been fucking me over honestly. but also man oh man…ive been in such a toto mood lately like i am head over heels for this man and i need him in my life thank you very much

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

When Ferrari had announced their newest recruit for the upcoming season, Toto didn’t expect anything out of it. He couldn’t help but think that the newbie’s going to undergo much pressure having to race against the Tifosi’s Il Predestinato.

But if someone were to ask his thoughts about it in a few months time? Toto would simply chuckle nervously and shrug it off before walking off and thinking that he was completely fucked.

“So, Toto, we want to know your piece of the pie,” Lissie asked the Austrian, “What are your thoughts on the grid’s newest red Stallion?”

“To say that I’m impressed would be an understatement,” Toto chuckled softly, putting his hands in his pockets and quickly glanced your way to the media pen before turning his attention back to Lissie, “She’s easily rising up the ranks, I could say that she is a lingering threat to our fight in the championship.”

Lissie nodded in understanding, a smile playing on her lips as she noticed the sneaky glances that Toto has been giving you, “Would you consider her to be a future driver for Mercedes?”

“I think it’d be a better fit to ask her if she’d consider a future with Mercedes,” Toto replied, a twinkle in his eye as he saw you finishing your interview and waiting at the side, “She does have a bright future in motorsport.”

As Lissie wrapped up the interview and exchanged thanks with the Austrian, who was immediately walking out of the media pen to mess up your hair from behind, “Someone finished media day quickly.”

“Stop messing with my hair,” You frowned, playfully punching his arm and eliciting a laugh from the Mercedes team principal, “I could say the same to you.”

“I figured I had better things to do,” He shrugged, walking beside you, “You busy for the day?”

Putting your cap back on your head and adjusting it, you shook your head, “Not until the evening. Why? You got something in mind?”

Toto stopped walking for a moment, turning his attention to you with a sly smile on his face, “Would an afternoon with your favorite macarons, matcha latte, and Austrian be enticing enough?”

As you threw your head back laughing from the idiocy of the film, Grown Ups, on your laptop, Toto couldn’t help but admire the way your eyes turned into crescents and snicker at the way you snort from getting a few laughs out.

Toto put his arm around you on the couch in his office at the motorhome, “You’ve seen this film a million times yet you still laugh at it.”

“And you still watch it with me throughout the duration of our very odd friendship,” You poked your tongue out, reaching over for a macaron, “That is dedication.”

Very odd friendship. Sure, maybe that’s what Toto would call it – the lingering touches, the way your eyes meet in a room full of people, getting on a Facetime call most of the time, even when either one of you would fall asleep during it.

It was fair to say that Toto felt his heart skip a beat when you situated your head on his lap, yawning in the process as you rubbed your eyes, “Is this okay? I just want to take a nap.”

“Not a problem at all,” He cleared his throat, shifting to a more comfortable position and carefully reaching under the coffee table to grab a blanket to drape it on your figure, “Get comfortable, Y/N.”

With a soft sigh escaping your lips, you snuggled the blanket while Toto softly combed his fingers through your hair in hopes of getting you to fall asleep quicker. It was as if a lightbulb went off his head that prompted him to hum your favorite song all of a sudden.

As your eyes started to close with a soft smile on your face, you sleepily reached out for his free hand and intertwined it with yours. Neither of you said a word but it could easily be seen by anyone that your hearts were content with the way things are.

“I still think this is a…” You mumbled sleepily, your breathing starting to even out, “Very odd friendship.”

Toto chuckled quietly, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently and resumed his position by leaning his head back on the couch, “One where the Mercedes team principal likes the stargirl of Ferrari?”

Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you couldn’t help but try and fight the blush by clearing your throat, “I heard the stargirl of Ferrari likes the Mercedes team principal too.”

bonus scene!

Toto smiled proudly at you, standing on the topmost spot of the podium and holding your trophy up high. It’s been three months since the situation that kickstarted your relationship with the Austrian. Nobody had to know just yet – it was better that you two just kept it to yourselves for the meantime.

Looking down at the sea of people, you smiled brightly as you spotted your lover and traced the letter ‘T’ over your heart, which would definitely cause a commotion all over the paddock.

“Interesting sight up there, boss,” Lewis nudged his shoulder, a smirk on his face, “So, I definitely figured out the mystery girl now.”

“We weren’t trying to keep it a secret,” Toto replied nonchalantly, his eyes never leaving you, “Just a bit discreet about the actual label of our relationship. People would figure it out.”

Toto chuckled from the confusion on Lewis’ face, but also at the fact that no one really pieced the puzzle pieces together – how you always came to the paddock together, the way rumors of you having a mystery guy on your lockscreen spread, a keychain of the initial of your name hanging from Toto’s car keys.

But then again, Toto wouldn’t really mind whether or not the world would know your relationship. All that mattered was that you were his girl.

#sainzfilm drabbles #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff drabble #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff oneshot #toto wolff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x you #mercedes #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #fluff

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bunnybunbun0 · 6 months

Note

Can you please write a Michael smut where he takes readers virginity with a lot of praise or mutual masterbation please plz

TO DE-STRESS A FRIEND

Anon,that ask rocked my shit! and lucky you i love writing about virginity loss! hope you like it! <3

Summary: Living the life of a young adult was stressing you out,you needed your best friend Mike to help you relax

Warnings: Smut , minors DNI,unprotected sex,fingering,virginity loss,mutual masturbation,afab!reader,let me know if i forget any.

You are responsible for your media comsumption.

You swear that one of these days you will make it to the front page of the news,the headboard will say "local college girl goes insane".

The stress were just over the board for you,the pressure at college,maintaining a minimun wage job to pay rent of the cubicle appartment you called a home. You needed to relax. So you just did the best thing you thought off.

"Hey,i picked up pizza!" Mike greeted at the door with a smile as you let him in.

Mike has always been your best friend,he was the only one that would be kind to you when you had to change schools for junior year,and youve been inseparable since,it was weird to see one without the other,and all you needed to calm yourself down were your best friend.

"Thank god you´re here! i think i´m gonna explode!."

You sank yourself on your old couch on the small living room sighing deeply,hearing Mike´s chuckle from the kitchen as he fetched you both plates for the cheesy delight.

"Relax,two more years and youll have your degree." He smiled at you with those sweet brown puppy eyes that could easily melt your heart.

You´ve been into Mike since the first homecoming you two attended together,its been you two in all events since,graduations,proms,homecomings,halloween parties,always matching outfits and always glued to one another.

As just friends of course! It´d be way too awkward to ruin the best friendship you ever had,but the caring way mike always made those nights special for you,even tho he thinks they´re lame,he always proteced you from creepy guys and mean girls at school,he listened to you ramble about your interests,he made you feel confortable and safe,and happy...

...but just as friends of course!

"Ugh,all that suffering for a lousy piece of paper!" You reflect while getting your plate of pizza (your favourite flavour of course,mike always remembered which one it is) "Just pop in the movie already!"

You took a bite of your dinner and watched as mike popped the cd on,then sitting by your side while the movie started.It wasnt a very interesting one but it was good enough to keep you both entertained. Your leg lazily hung on top of michaels and the mood was peaceful,until it wasnt.

You knew this movie were r-rated,but you didnt expect to see that,that one hot actor that been distracting you the whole movie is the one getting it on in the scene,you squirm a little,wishing you could excuse yourself to your room and let your toy do the job of settling the throb between your legs.

Mike´s eyes on you were´nt helping said throb either,you knew he could tell what happened and weirdly enough the shame of it was thrilling you more.

"You okay?" He asked suspiciouly

"Huh? Uhm,sure...." Making eye contact with him while the moans kept going on the background proved to be a hard task.

"Really? You seem...agitated" To say that was an understatement,your thoughts of mike were running wild,to the point where you could feel your underwear cling to your soaked heat.

"I´m...uhm...i am...." Mike´s sincere concern about your well being and how sweet he was about it were thriling you on even more,to the point where you couldnt muster up any words.

"I get it,you´re into that short guy on the screen" He said jealously "The scene clearly messed you,its okay if you need to...yknow...reliev yourself"

You were mortified by his words,but something about the thrill of being watched by michael´s sweet puppy eyes were making your fire burn higher.

Without taking your eyes from his and unsure of how he´d react,you slowly slid your hand into the hem of your pyjama bottoms,his lustful eyes following every movement of yours carefully,his breathing getting heavier by the moment.

"Fuck..." He whispered when you let out a low whimper as your cold finger finally found your needy clit.

You kept on staring at each othe while you pleasured yourself and after a few minutes the tent on his pants were hard to miss,and the way his hands tended to it were even harder to miss.

The movie behind you were long forgotten,the gasps and whimpers of you both were drowning the small space,eyes glued on one another and hands unable to stop pleasuring yourselfs.

"God,i cant wait any longer!" Mike pulled you suddenly on his lap kissing you deeply and passionately,swallowing your whimpers as you grinded on his lap,frenetic hands locked on the hem of his shirt pulling it over his head.

Your eyes lock on his shirtless figure and his hands caressed your waist below your shirt,goosebumps coming from your back. His hot lips went down with open mouthed kisses on your neck,a satisfied grin on his face as he took off your pyjama shirt and met your braless torso.

"Youre gonna be the death of me..." He huffed out in a breath.

You could´nt even think about responding before you felt his hot tongue on your nipple,he sucked on your breasts like his life depended on it,erupting multiples whines from you,the fire getting higher and higher between the both of you.

You snapped back to reality once you felt his hand grip your thigh strongly,inching closer and closer to where you were soaked for him.

"Mike wait!" You breathed out and he immediately stopped his ministrations,staring at you wide eyed.

"I´m so sorry,the sounds you were making,i thought you were liking it" his voice leaked of honesty.

"I´ts not that mikey,it feels great im just...i...never did this..."

"Oh,youre..."

"A virgin,yes,pathetic i know" The weight of being a twenty two year old vigin sank on you after that.

"Hey hey its fine!" He cupped your face gently and looked into your eyes,so tenderly you nearly forgot you were both half naked. "It´s all right...you should have told me sooner...if you wanna move on with it,i wanna make it special for you,like you deserve" He strokes your cheecks lovingly and you dont even need to think twice.

You threw your hands around his neck and pulled him closer kissing him with all the need in your heart.

"Please michael...make me yours"

He got up with you on his lap bringing you into your bedroom laying you gently on your bed,slowly peeling you off your shorts,you were only in your underwear now,laying in bed in front of your best friend.

"You look beautiful."

He dives into another deep kiss sliding his hands closer to where you need him the most.

"May i?" He asks teasing your hips with the elastic of your panties,you nod giving him acces to your whole body.

He slides a first finger into you with ease,revelling at the sweet moan you let out.

"Fuck baby you´re so wet"

Baby. You liked being called that,specially when mike did it. His kisses were growing desperate and erratic,just as the pace of his now two figers inside you.

"Mike,please,stop" You mutter almost out of breath opening your eyes and seeing his worried expression "Wanna cum on your cock,please."

Michael´s painfully hard cock nearly busted hearing those words come out of you,how could he deny anything you asked for? He was always putty to your wishes.

his hands quickly fumbled with the fly of his pants,making you giggle at his eagerness to get undressed,when he finally did your laugh got stifled at the sight.

His big red angry cock sprung free hitting him back in his abdomen,there was no way in hell that could fit inside your tiny virgin hole,he could see the worry in your eyes clear as day.

"Relax,ill be gentle..."

He kissed you again removing your panties now leaving you bare for him,the sight itself of you naked and wet for him,with that adorable blush on your face was driving him nuts. He drew his body closer to yours until his tip was teasing your entrance.

"You ready baby?" He asked,you nodded,and his fat tip was inside you.

You both gasped in unission at the feeling,his hands holding yours giving it a slight grip,signaling he was gonna push more in. The moan you let out were other wordly,busting his usually low ego and egging him on pleasuring you.

"Fuck baby youre so tight" With a final push and a guttural groan he was fully inside you.

The disconfort and euphoria were fighting to see who would take place on your expressions. Mike gave you a few minutes until you got used to the feeling of his shaft deflowering you,the pain turned into needines at any growing second,until it was unberable for you to have him inside you and not moving.

"Mike please,i need you to move" Your wish was his command.

He thrusted in you slow and deep,every time he bottomed himself you let out a moan,and each time you moaned he moved faster,making you moan more. It was a vicious cycle and before you could even register he was fucking you senseless.

You were flirting with your orgasm,only needing that one final push to send you over the edge.

"Mike,fuck,i´m so close" you whined out,only needing his sweet final push.

"Come on baby,be good and cum for me,feel good for me."

You couldn´t hold it at his praise,moaning his name loudly followed by a string of profanities. He was hypnotized by the sight of your orgasm,seeing you trash and moan underneath him,his hips moving on his own as you ride your high.

"Oh,fuck baby,watch me cum so good for you"

He pulled it out jerking off quickly on top of you painting your pretty tits white his seed before collapsing tired on top of you.

"So..." He rolls to your side holding your hand and laying close to you "Did you liked it? Are you okay?" You chuckled at the shift in his personality.

"It was amazing..." Your voice was hoarse from all the moaning "My legs will definetely be sore by the morning and i have class tomorrow" You laugh a little

"You can afford to miss class one day,you need to de-stress" He kissed your temple as you both drifted into a peaceful post sex sleep.

I guess yiu were more relaxed after all...

Gosh,i suck at endings and i´m writing this at four AM so i hope it doesnt suck!

#fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #michael afton x reader #michael schmidt x reader #michael afton #michael schmidt #fnaf imagines #fnaf x you #mike schmidt x you #michael afton smut #mike schmidt smut #fnaf x female reader #mike afton

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trblsvt · 1 year

Text

wait, what? | wen junhui

summary | it was so stupid. soonyoung insisted your best friend was in love you. no way. wen junhui didn't like you that way, and you definitely didn't like him that way either. right? genre | fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining warnings | swearing (i think maybe once or twice) word count | 1.6k words pairing | wen junhui x gn!reader minli | lowercase intended thank you for the request, it was so cute :) @g00dtimenotlongtim3

"you do realize our good friend wen junhui is hopelessly in love you, right?" jihoon said casually before taking a sip from his cup. you practically spat out your water. what an insane idea. "i have no idea what you're talking about," you rolled your eyes. your friends all glanced at each other. "what's with that?" you asked, noticing the way they were now silent.

"you two are the most oblivious people i know," minghao frowned. you still didn't understand where they were coming from with all this. sure, you liked jun, well more than like, but you were absolutely positive he felt nothing more for you than a best friend. you had quietly been living out your life in the friend zone, and you much preferred that over potentially losing him altogether.

"you guys are crazy," you frowned.

"and you're blind," jihoon shot back. "you both are."

"what?"

"nothing!" he said quickly leaving the room.

minghao was annoying. jun didn't know why, especially since his friend usually kept to himself and didn't try meddling in his business. that was his job. jun had just about enough of his friend's whining and complaining about jun's "non-existent" love life. "it's just really sad," minghao shrugged.

"what exactly is so sad about my love life?" jun asked.

"well the fact that you won't admit to being in love with ___, and that you'll die alone because you won't ever admit it."

jun stared at him. minghao was once again delusional. "okay, harsh. i'm not going to die alone because there's nothing to confess. i am not in love with ___," jun insisted, though something in the way he felt his ears heat up at your name told him differently.

"that's too bad, because they're definitely in love with you."

"no, ___ is definitely not in love with me."

"keep telling yourself that," minghao huffed and left jun to his own devices. jun fiddled with the trinkets on his desk and looked out the window. minghao was delusional, he told himself (although he knew minghao was one of the most logical people he had ever met).

jun didn't know what he was hiding. he expected minghao would've picked up by his crush by now. he also figured the rest of the guys had an idea of his pining for you. he wasn't sure how long he would continue to pine for you, but he would rather die then mess up the friendship you had. he was well aware that idea was cliche, but it was a valid fear in his mind.

he just chose to not do anything, for now at least.

"it's really just painful," soonyoung whined.

"what is?" you asked, rolling over to him on the couch.

"your chronic blindness to love." you groaned and punched his arm. "well now my arm actually hurts, thanks."

"what is up with everyone lately?" you sighed, scrolling through your phone. jihoon and now soonyoung. your friend even texted you about jun, she didn't even know him. "maybe we're all tired of you and jun being blind to your mutual feelings for each other," soonyoung rolled his eyes.

"jun does not like me," you insisted.

"but you like him."

"no."

"yes."

"fine, yeah i like him. what's the big deal?" you admitted exasperatedly. soonyoung got up from the couch and straightened out his shirt. "well, that means the feeling is mutual, so you should probably do something about," he said it like it was apparent.

"tell me, how do you know that jun likes me?" you pushed. soonyoung glanced at you, almost looking tired. he sat back down and crossed his legs. "well for one, he never stops talking about you. two, when he's not with us, he's usually with you. three, he buys your favorite snacks for no good reason. you literally have his card saved in your phone. four, he's always concerned about whether he looks good when he's going to meet up with you. five, he's painfully obviously in love whenever he looks at you. six-"

"okay! i get it!" you cut him off before he can continue. "okay, well, okay i see how that could look like he likes me, but isn't that what friends do?"

"well, i'm not overly concerned about how i look when i visit you and i certainly would not let you save my credit card information."

you had to admit what he was saying seemed to add up, but you were still having a hard time believing it. you know your friends wouldn't purposefully tell you this to get your hopes up if it wasn't true.

you just weren't sure when you should act on it.

funny enough, jihoon and minghao had walked jun through every sign that you were just as into him as he was into you. with enough convincing they got him up and out of his room to finally go confess. "is he coming or not?" soonyoung asked through the phone.

"he's on his way now, so you should probably leave before he shows up," jihoon insisted.

"okay, got it. can't believe we got this plan up and running."

"well they obviously weren't going to get anything done."

"so true, i'm leaving now. hopefully jun doesn't run into me. we don't want him catching on."

"even if he did, he was so blind to his own feelings i doubt he would put two and two together."

"also so true. see you later."

jun shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for your building's elevator to come down to the ground floor. minghao had somehow convinced him to go to your apartment and confess his feelings for you.

this wasn't exactly how he imagined his thursday afternoon to go, and this certainly wasn't the way he was planning on telling you, and he made sure minghao knew that. "just for your information, i had a plan," jun insisted.

"yeah, yeah," minghao grumbled flipping through a magazine.

"i did! a grand plan! with flowers and music and chocolate!"

"music?"

"maybe no music. but flowers and chocolate, yes."

"what if they said no?"

"aren't you the one telling me that ___ is in love with me and i should confess my feelings because the feeling is mutual?"

"yes, but i'm talking about this hypothetical plan."

"yeah whatever. i'll just go, but it will be way less romantic," jun called as he left to go. minghao rolled his eyes at his friend's antics.

"jun?" you answered the door, honestly confused why he was here. though, you did let him without a second thought. his hands were shoved into his pockets and he kicked off his shoes in the doorway. "hi," he said.

"do you want something to drink?" you asked making your way to your kitchen.

"actually i wanted to talk to you," he stopped you. you were hoping that he would sit down so you could compose yourself, but seeing him here after everything soonyoung said had you second-guessing everything. maybe he caught on, perhaps he knew how you felt and was here to tell you to knock it off. "oh okay, yeah, go for it," you mumbled.

"so i heard from someone that you like someone," he said.

oh god, he knew. "well yeah, i guess, yeah i do," you scrambled.

"and you didn't tell me?" he asked quirking an eyebrow at you. he definitely knew. "it never came up in conversation," you defended yourself.

"aren't i your best friend though? don't best friends tell each other everything?" he continued.

"yes. i suppose so."

"well, i guess i'm not being a very good friend either because i failed to mention that i also have a crush on someone."

your heart dropped. what was going on? "that's nice, jun. i'm sure whoever they are, they would be very lucky to have you," you sighed.

"don't you want to hear about them?" he asked. not exactly, "yeah sure."

"well for one, they're beautiful. another they already know me super well. they also like taking my hoodies and my credit card to pay for things. not to mention, our mutual friends opened my eyes to how much i love this person. they told me i should tell this person how i feel as soon as possible," he rambled so eloquently.

"that's really nice, jun. i think you should definitely go tell them," you encouraged him trying to make sure he couldn't hear your heart falling to the pit of your stomach. "oh i already did," he shrugged, a smile gracing his lips.

"really? when?" you were so confused. did he come all the way here just to tell you his new relationship status? "yeah, i did. just now."

oh just now. wait. just now? he laughed when he saw your head whip up at him. "me? you have a crush on me?" you asked, dumbfounded. he took a step closer to you. you could smell his cologne and felt his clothes brush against your skin. "who else, silly?" he asked. "please tell me that you like me too."

"i-" your words died on the tip of your tongue when you opted to kiss him instead. his hands cupped your face and he kissed you back softly. when he pulled away he laughed, "i'm taking that as a yes." you nodded. "for your information i was planning on a romantic confession with flowers and chocolate and a song maybe," he clarified.

"then i guess you owe me," you said. he smiled. maybe your friends were right, the two of you were blind, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

min | not proofread yet! oh no i basically just wrote dialogue! i have to work on my descriptions. also if you want to be added or removed from my taglist let me know, i don't have specific taglists for members or fic types... so let me know if you have a specific preference if any!

tagging: @a-wandering-stay @cinnamoroxie @wonwoosthetic

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catcze · 7 months

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Do you think wrio would be the type to take the initiative for making out (among other spicy things)? Or would he wait for reader to make the first move?

I’m not thinking in terms of an established relationship, more like when they’ve been attracted to each other for a while.

Even if you don’t reply to the ask, just want to thank you for keeping the wrio simps well fed in this time of drought. I love love reading your posts, and they will help us all wait patiently till 4.1. Take care and have a good day! :D

!!! HI BABY IM SORRY IT TOOK ME 3 WEEKS TO ANSWER ⁉️⁉️ But thank you so much also ! I'm very honored to have people supporting and enjoying my works, esp. since Wrio is kind of new, so there wasn't much of an audience for x reader content of him for a little bit :D

In terms of a mutual pining, friends/coworkers-to-lovers type of situation, I think that Wriothesley would probably make the first move himself, though it would take a lot to make him snap.

He wants to make sure he's reading all the signals right. Archons forbid that he's delulu for you and imagining all the signals you're sending his way.

When it comes to you, he genuinely likes you— like, yes, in a romantic sense, but he also likes you so much as a person. He likes being around you and being able to just vibe. He likes working with you, because your teamwork just comes so naturally. And he worries that maybe he's reading the signals wrong. Maybe there's an off chance that his infatuation with you is making him see signs that aren't there. And he doesn't want to mess up your friendship, and he definitely doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. So it's gonna take some pretty strong signals from your end to convince him that he is not hallucinating those signals.

Wriothesley is fun to play with. Criminally so. That's why, on your end, even though you're definitely interested in him and you're pretty damn sure he's into you too, you'd rather that he figure the signals out himself, first.

It's kinda fun to fluster the Duke of Meropide, don't you think? The guy has a reputation for being stoic and (to some) rather intimidating, so it's a little cute to see him react to your playful flirting, and sometimes even have him flirt back too! And yes, you could end this little back and forth game early by making the first move but... why spoil the fun? It's not like you're in a rush, anyways.

A little short becauseeee im getting sleepy and my brain isn't working enough to give me a good ending HAHHAHA BUT 👀 if anyone is interested i have an idea of how a cont. of this could go sooooo 👀👀👀

#Wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #Wriothesley #Genshin Impact #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 strawberry.cupcakes

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justabigassnerd · 2 years

Text

More Than Friends

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 4,147

Warnings - swearing, passing out, mentions of not eating/sleeping, mutual pining (dumbass edition)

Summary - y/n and Bradley have had crushes on each other since forever. Only problem? They're both dumbasses

A/N - not sorry about a new Rooster fic. Y'all don't stop me, y'all get whatever the fuck I decide to write. Yes, reader's callsign is Pegasus again I think I'm gonna stick with that for fics where reader is an aviator unless y'all really hate it. Anyway, I'll stop rambling now. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!

It was a typical Friday night at the Hard Deck. It was packed with navy personnel grouped with their friends as they drank and laughed. You and your friends in Dagger Squad were huddled in your usual corner, hogging the pool table to play amongst each other. You were playing against Bob as the others chatted and watched the game.

“I’m getting another round.” You hear Rooster announce to the group mere seconds after the all too familiar bell rang, signalling that someone was going to be paying a round for every person present in the bar right now. You glance up at Rooster from where you were lining up your shot at the pool table, seeing him coming over to you.

“Hey Rooster.” You smile, straightening up after taking your shot and watching as Bob moves to take his turn.

“Hey y/n/n. I’m getting us a round thanks to that lovely gentleman over there. Is there anything in particular you want?” Rooster asks, smiling at you as he stops just in front of you. You were fighting to keep the blush from your face at Rooster’s proximity, you had harboured feelings for him not long after the two of you hit high school, and you kept it secret for the sake of your friendship. You two were best friends, as close as can be and you’d not ever dare ruin the security of your friendship by admitting your feelings. You knew there was no way he liked you back anyway, so you were content with just staying friends. When your dad Maverick pulled Rooster’s papers from the naval academy, your friendship was threatened but after some explanation and pleading on your part, Rooster finally understood that you had nothing to do with what your dad did and so allowed you back into his life. After all, you were his best friend. That close call with your friendship was enough to scare you off ever admitting your feelings, almost losing him was terrifying, you never wanted to experience it again.

“You know what I like, Bradshaw.” You laugh, shaking your head as you turn back to the game when you catch Bob gesturing to the table with a small yet smug smile, impressed with himself. Rooster rolls his eyes just before you turn away and then crosses to the bar to ask Penny for more drinks. As Rooster walks away, Hangman crosses to you.

“You know Bradshaw totally likes you right?” He says once he reaches you, resting his arm on your shoulder.

“We’re friends Seresin. I’d be offended if he didn’t like me.” You scoff, shrugging his arm off your shoulder and getting ready to take your next shot.

“You know what I mean.” Hangman teases, poking you in the side just as you take your shot, making you squirm and mess up your shot.

“You’re so infuriating.” You groan as you stand up straight.

“And you love it.” He fires back with his signature cocky smirk, laughing as you shake your head.

“Unfortunately I do, because you’re one of my best friends, much like Rooster is.” You emphasise, watching as Bob takes his next shot.

“You know I hate to admit it, but I agree with Hangman. Rooster definitely has feelings for you. And it’s no secret you like him too.” Phoenix cuts in, crossing to you and taking the pool cue from your hand, taking your go for you.

“I don’t see any evidence that he feels like that.” You reply, glancing across the crowded bar to where Rooster was still patiently waiting for his drinks, striking up a conversation with Penny as she serves drinks.

“Trust me, he’s unbearable whenever you come up in conversation. If anyone mentions anything he could remotely relate to you he’ll be talking about you for hours. Also, he looks at you like you hung the moon. He has it bad for you.” Payback joins the conversation now, an empty beer bottle in his grip as he waves his hands around. Gradually more and more of Dagger Squad join the conversation, insisting that Rooster likes you.

“What’s got you guys all riled up?” Rooster asks, coming over with a tray of drinks for everyone.

“Hangman here was insisting he’s a better pool player than me.” You lie smoothly, smiling over at your friend who places the tray down on the nearby table, waiting for everyone to take theirs before he handed you your own drink.

“Well you’ll just have to prove him wrong now, won’t you?” He grins as you take a sip from your drink. You nod wordlessly and take the pool cue Phoenix was holding while Hangman takes the cue from Bob. Phoenix gives you a quick wink as you roll your eyes. Rooster sets up the game as you glare across the table at Hangman, knowing that if you looked at Rooster you’d be reduced to a blushing mess. His muscles flexed perfectly as he adjusted everything, and his sun-kissed skin was glowing under the lights of the Hard Deck. When he finished setting the game, he straightened and smiled at the two of you.

“May the best player win.”

As the two of you began playing, Rooster grabbed his beer and stood alongside Bob, making small talk as they observe the game.

“So, when are you going to admit your feelings for Pegasus?” Bob asks subtly, making Rooster choke on his drink. Since joining Dagger Squad, Bob had broken out of his shell a bit, being more comfortable with his team as time passed. When Rooster looked over to his friend, he saw a cheeky grin on his face.

“We’re just friends Bob. Besides, there’s no way she likes me like that.” Rooster says once he’s recovered from his coughing fit.

“Rooster, she definitely has feelings for you. It’s so easy to see.” Bob insists, grabbing a handful of peanuts and eating them. Rooster glanced over at where you were fist-pumping, bragging as you potted yet another ball while Hangman insisted it was a lucky shot and a gentle smile graced his face. Rooster had come close many times to admitting how he felt for you, but he always held himself back, reminding himself that he'd rather keep you as his best friend than lose you because he admitted his feelings.

When you finished your game of pool, beating Hangman within the next couple of turns, you decided to head home, not wanting to stay up too late. Rooster caught sight of you bidding goodbye to everyone and weaving your way in and out of patrons to get out of the bar.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mitchell?” He calls as he gets out of the bar, smiling as you turn to face him.

“Heading home, Bradshaw. You heard me in there.” You laugh as you face him.

“By yourself? In the dark?” He asks worriedly, glancing around at how dark it had gotten while you were all in the bar. He knew you were tough; you could fend for yourself much better than most, but it didn’t stop him from being terrified when you did things like walk home alone in the dark. When you nodded your head at his words, he instantly dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his Bronco.

“Nope, come on I’ll give you a lift. I was planning on heading home soon anyway.” He says, gesturing towards his car. You sighed jokingly but followed him to his car, climbing in the passenger seat as he got behind the wheel. The drive to your house was quiet, the sounds of the radio preventing silence as Rooster drove. You kept stealing glances over at Rooster, admiring the way his eyes shone under the streetlights. When you reached your house, Rooster stopped the car and turned to you.

“See you tomorrow. Good night y/n/n.” He says with a soft smile, making you lean towards him, enveloping him in a hug which he reciprocates without hesitation. As you climb out of the car and walk up the path to your front door, he keeps an eye on you, his body feeling as if it was on fire from the hug you had just given him.

The next time the team tried to get Rooster to admit his feelings was when you and the team decided to hold a movie night at your place. You had settled on one end of the sofa and Fanboy all but shoved Rooster to sit next to you as the rest of Dagger Squad took up every available seat, with some actively choosing to sit on the floor just so Rooster would end up sat next to you. When everyone settled down with snacks and takeaway pizza you played the movie. As the movie plays, Rooster ends up stretching his right arm across the back of the sofa. You weren’t aware of him moving his arm, but your subconscious caused you to lean closer to him as you tug the blanket you had wrapped around you closer. Neither you or Rooster were aware of your movements, you were so used to each other’s presence and being close wasn’t a foreign feeling for the two of you. Now filled with food and getting warmth from both Rooster’s close proximity and the blanket, you found it harder to keep your eyes open as the movie played. The lights were off and the only light in the room was coming from your tv, so you doubted anyone was going to notice if you dozed for a while. Your eyes closed for but a moment and the next thing you knew, you were slumping against Rooster’s side, his arm now wrapped securely around you.

“Sorry.” You mumble, moving to pull away but Rooster tightens his grip ever so slightly.

“You’re okay, you can sleep.” He whispers reassuringly, softly running his hand up and down your arm, lulling you back to sleep within seconds. Rooster tried to keep his gaze on the movie, but he couldn’t help looking down at you every so often, smiling when you snuggled closer to him. He loved the way you fit perfectly in his arms, and when he finally got the confidence to do so, he rested his cheek atop your head. However, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Coyote looking at him and shot a glare his way.

“Not a fucking word.” He hissed, knowing if Coyote started talking now, the whole group would start causing a ruckus and he wanted you to get some rest. Coyote’s eyes widened slightly at Rooster’s tone, but he quickly shook his head with a slight laugh.

“Geez Rooster, protective much?” He teases, making Rooster’s jaw clench as he carefully lifted his head off yours. The glare Rooster was firing Coyote’s way was finally enough to get him to back off. When the movie eventually ends, Phoenix turns the main light on, and Rooster instinctively shields your eyes with his hand, so you don’t get woken up.

“Phoenix, turn the light off.” Rooster says quickly yet quietly and when Phoenix realises you’re asleep she listens, turning the light off while Payback leans over to turn a nearby lamp on.

“Look at you, Bradshaw. So whipped for your girl.” Hangman grins as Rooster rolls his eyes.

“She was tired, I wasn’t going to let her sleep uncomfortably.” He defends as Fanboy laughs.

“And that’s why you’re practically cuddling her? You didn’t want her to sleep uncomfortably, sure. But you have Pegasus nice and comfy in your arms. When are you going to tell her how you feel?” He says through laughs as Rooster feels his face flushing red.

“Okay guys, let's wrap this up now.” Bob says, even though he would join in on the teasing occasionally, he knew when enough was enough.

“I’m with Bob. Now’s not the time. Let’s go before any of you guys royally fuck up.” Phoenix says sternly, pointing towards the door and every member of Dagger Squad, except Rooster, get up and cross to the door, bidding Rooster a quiet and awkward goodbye. When the door clicked shut, your eyelids began to flutter slightly, and you began to stir.

“Roo?” You ask quietly, curling further into him as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah?” He responds, waiting patiently as you open your eyes, glancing around for the rest of your friends.

“Where’d everyone go?” You question, the tiredness still evident in your voice as you shift your head to rest on his shoulder.

“They went home. I didn’t want to disturb you.” He explains, fighting back a frown when you pull out of his arms, rubbing at your eyes with your hands.

“I totally underestimated how tired I was. I’m sorry for falling asleep on top of you.” You apologise, stretching as you speak.

“It’s fine, y/n/n. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep on me.” Rooster teases, laughing as you shove his shoulder gently.

“I should get to bed. You should think about doing the same. According to dad, tomorrow’s training isn’t going to be easy.” You laugh, standing up and moving to the bottom of the stairs while Rooster heads to the front door, tugging his shoes on and just as he turns around to say goodbye, you wrap your arms around him for a quick hug which he returns without hesitation.

“Good night, Bradley.” You say softly before pulling away, allowing Rooster to move to open the front door.

“Good night, y/n/n.” He replies before finally exiting the house, gently closing the door behind him.

When Rooster had gone, you tidied up the living room before taking yourself up to bed to sleep. As you lay in the double bed, you found yourself missing Rooster’s embrace. He was always naturally so warm, and you were freezing, huddled under your duvet for warmth, wishing you could have Rooster’s arms around you once more to help lull you to sleep.

The day Rooster finally admitted his feelings for you was the last day he would’ve considered doing such a thing. You and Hangman were prepping yourself for your training session up in the air with your dad.

“Ready for me to beat you up there?” Hangman teases, pulling his aviators off and shoving them in his flight suit pocket.

“In your dreams, Seresin.” You scoff jokingly, shaking your head but immediately regretting the action. You’d been training so hard recently; you’d neglected to take care of yourself. You didn’t sleep as much as you should’ve been, and you’d often forget to eat. Any free time you had was researching flying techniques or getting one on one dogfight lessons with your dad when you could convince both him and Cyclone into letting you borrow the fighter jets for a bit. You had been exhausted the past few days, but you refused to let up, being just as stubborn as your father. When you shook your head at Hangman’s cocky attitude it made your head spin. Everything suddenly lost its focus, and the next thing Hangman knew was you were passing out right in front of him. Thankfully his brain kicked into gear quick enough to catch you before you hit the floor, kneeling down while holding you. He looked around frantically, hoping he could see someone who could help him. Within seconds, Maverick appeared in front of him, gently shifting you from Hangman’s arms to his own.

“Hangman, what happened?” He asks quickly, glancing from you to Hangman.

“She just passed out. I didn’t do anything I swear!” Hangman says defensively.

“I didn’t say that you did, and I know you wouldn’t do anything.” Maverick replies calmly, noticing you beginning to stir.

“Hey, sweetheart. Back with us?” Maverick asks sweetly, helping you sit up carefully as you open your eyes, blinking as you gain focus on your surroundings.

“What happened?” You ask, leaning against your dad as he looks down at you.

“You fainted. Damn near scared the crap out of Hangman here.” Maverick replies, nodding over at Hangman who still has worry written across his face.

“Sorry, Hangman. Didn’t mean to scare you.” You laugh weakly as Hangman smiles with relief.

“Scare me like that again Pegasus and you’re buying my drinks for a month.” He says, shaking his head jokingly as you mock salute him.

“Alright, Hangman you go and grab Payback and Fanboy. Tell them they’re training with you instead now.” Maverick orders and Hangman doesn’t waste a second in getting up and going in search of Payback and Fanboy.

“So, any explanation as to why you might have fainted?” Maverick asks as he helps you to your feet, leading you towards the Top Gun building, ignoring your complaints.

“Maybe I forgot to look after myself a little because I was focused on training?” You say, your inflection making Maverick turn to face you, concern all over his face.

“y/n, answer this next question honestly for me. When’s the last time you ate a full meal or slept a whole night?” Maverick asks and when you remain silent, trying to think of an answer he shakes his head.

“Okay, you’re getting some rest. I’m taking you to the rec room and then I’ll grab you some food.” Maverick says, taking you to the rec room, being grateful it was empty and sitting you down on the sofa before making sure you’re comfy.

“Dad, I’m okay.” You insist, grumbling at his overprotectiveness.

“You just passed out. You need to eat and rest. You’re staying here and you’re not training until I think you’re better. I’m saying this as both your father and your superior. I just want you to be okay, sweetheart. You can understand that, right?” Maverick says, sitting down beside you and you see the worry in his eyes as he spoke.

“I understand, I’m sorry dad.” You say, wrapping your arms around your dad in a hug which he returns.

“It’s alright. Now, I’m going to get some water and some food for you. Stay put, okay?” He says after you pull away, standing up and pressing a kiss to the top of your head before exiting the room, leaving you to lie back against the sofa cushions, not knowing what to do with yourself.

Maverick made his way to the food hall and grabbed one of your favourite meals along with a bottle of water and as he started the walk back to where you were he bumped into Rooster.

“Hey Mav, I thought you were training with Hangman and Pegasus.” Rooster questions, wondering why his godfather is walking around the halls with food when he knows Maverick never passes up a chance to train his pilots.

“I am going to take Hangman for some training but not y/n, Payback and Fanboy are going in her place.” He says, regretting not explaining straight away when worry crosses Rooster’s features.

“What happened to y/n? Why is she not training?” He asks worriedly, not removing his gaze from Maverick.

“She passed out earlier. She’s not been taking care of herself the past few days, so she needs to eat and rest up. Tell you what, you take this food and water to y/n. She’s in the rec room. Make sure she eats. Cyclone will have my ass if I don’t get to training soon.” Maverick explains, handing the food and water to Rooster and holding back a laugh when Rooster turned and immediately headed in the direction of the rec room, wanting to check up on you as quickly as possible.

“Goose, please send your son some damn courage so he can finally make his move.”

Rooster entered the rec room rather ungracefully, barging through the door and nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush. Your head snapped in the direction of the noise and immediately felt your head spin, making you lie down and squeeze your eyes shut to try and rid yourself of the feeling.

“Are you okay? Mav said you passed out earlier.” You hear the familiar voice of your best friend ask as he crosses the room to reach you.

“I’m all good Rooster. Don’t worry about me.” You say, throwing him a thumbs up and opening your eyes when the dizzy feeling subsides, making you brave enough to sit up once again.

“Have we met? I always worry about you.” Rooster says as he sits next to you, putting the food on the table in front of the sofa and handing the water bottle to you. You thank him quietly and take small sips from the bottle.

“Mav said I had to make sure you eat so you’re stuck with me until you do so. But be warned: take longer than five minutes to start eating and I will start the whole aeroplane thing with the fork.” He continues, smiling when he gets a laugh out of you. You pick up the box of food and the cutlery and dig in when you realise what it is. As you ate you could feel your body thanking you for each mouthful of food and every sip of water. When you finish the food, you place the now empty box back on the table and slump back against the sofa, feeling full and satisfied.

“That is exactly what I needed.” You say with a smile as Rooster shakes his head, watching you with a soft smile.

“You better start taking better care of yourself, Mitchell.” Rooster replies, nudging you with his shoulder as you roll your eyes.

“You know you didn’t have to come just because my dad told you to, right?” You say, turning to look at Rooster as his expression shifts.

“I didn’t just come because your dad told me to. The second he told me you weren’t training with him, and Hangman I knew something must’ve happened for you not to be training. When he said you passed out, I was already getting ready to come and check up on you. You’re my best friend.” He says, bringing you into a hug, resting his chin atop your head. As you hug, you hear him whisper.

“Talk to me, dad.” His small whisper makes you adjust yourself so you can look up at him.

“What’s up, Roo?” You ask, noticing him flush red at your question, clearly embarrassed to be caught out.

“It’s just you only say that when you’re about to do something you’re worried about. What’s got you so worried?” You ask innocently, making Rooster fight the urge to not double back on his next words.

“I like you, y/n. As in, more than a friend way. Have done since our high school days. You’re beautiful and amazing and I’ve fallen so hard for you. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way it’s just so hard keeping this in.” Rooster blurts, pausing once he finishes and beginning to second guess himself by your silence.

“Bradley, I feel the same. Ever since high school I’ve liked you as more than a friend I was just so damn scared of admitting it because I didn’t want to lose you as my best friend. We came close to it when dad pulled your papers so I figured it would be better keeping you as my best friend than losing you completely.” You admit, both of you now grinning ear to ear at the other’s confession.

“Can I kiss you?” Rooster then asks, leaning in, his breath tickling your face as he speaks and when you nod, he wastes no time connecting your lips. The kiss was slow and sweet. One of your hands rested on Rooster’s shoulders while your other found its way to the back of his head, your hands instinctively playing with his hair. Rooster was the same, one hand in your hair, messing with it while the other was resting on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You didn’t want to break the kiss but when the need for air became too much, you were forced to pull away, panting as you rest your forehead against his.

“I must say, Bradshaw. That kiss alone made the years of pining worth it.” You say with a cheeky grin as Rooster smiles.

“Come here, you.” He says playfully, bringing you in for another kiss. Once again, the two of you didn’t part until you needed to breathe. You always used to say that being hugged by Bradley Bradshaw was the best feeling in the world. At this moment you decided nothing was better than kissing him.

“How about I take you out on a date. Friday sound good?” He asks, laying back against the sofa cushions and tugging you into his side as you rest your head on his chest.

“Just text me a time and a place, Bradshaw.”

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerdwrites #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #maverick x daughter!reader #pete mitchell x daughter reader

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