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nnight-dances · 2 months

Text

CASUAL

PAIRING: karina x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, smut (explicit, but not too much?)

TROPES: fwb to lovers except you're roommates and best friends, unrequited love but not really.

LISTEN TO: casual by chappell roan

NOTE: i may be having a bit of a military wife moment rn but i'm still a sapphic at heart yearning for something more... my first gay fic i've posted on this account yay! cannot reveal if ive been in a similar situation but you could say this is based on real life! whose life, i will not say. hope u enjoy and stay safe everyone <3

knee-deep in the [twin bed] and you're eating me out

you want to say you're in control when it happens, but you'd be a big fat liar if you did. truth be told, karina had you wrapped around her finger since she moved in. (in more ways than one, if you catch my drift.)

you met her late freshman year in college when you shared a gender studies course with her – which alone would've been enough of a clue to which ways she swings, if not for the black leather jacket and unnecessary amount of rings she wore to class. she'd sat next to you the first week in and approached you after class. "this class is a bore," she said as a matter-of-factly, "wanna get coffee with me?"

you'd agreed because you were mesmerized (even though secretly, that was the favorite course you took that year) and followed her into a cafe, letting her sweet talk you into all kinds of things from there. she had a big friend group which welcomed you generously when they found out you were friends with karina and eventually, that became your everyday life.

you worked on papers sincerely while karina watched you with an unreadable glint (maybe it was unreadable, maybe you didn't want to read too much into it), swirling her untouched coffee. eventually one day, she asked you, "wanna be roommates next year?"

that was karina. easy-going and confident. she didn't hesitate to ask you to do things with her, even if they were often bending the boundaries of what friends could do. exhibit a: she'd asked you to make out with her at a party just so she could shake off a creep. in general, she was touchier than the normal person, finding a way to cup your stomach under your shirt when you weren't looking. you get the idea.

that's how when she moves into the same room as you sophomore year, you lost all sense of self and reality. you have to thank your mom who convinced you to arrive on campus a day earlier than most, so you could settle in without the bothersome crowd.

you're in the middle of fixing a poster of your favorite band, the strokes, in the wall when she lets herself in with a, "you're already here, jagiya!" you almost lose your footing on your chair in order to face her, heart already a fluttering mess thanks to her shameless flirting.

"karina!" you call out, thrilled to see your friends, complications aside. you step down carefully before throwing yourself in her waiting arms. "you're here earlier than i thought."

she pulls away with a devilish grin, "missed you too much so i came early." she looks around the room, "i see you've already made this place home."

you smile, unsettled by the way she's still holding you in her arms, your bodies attached at the hip as she takes in her home for the next year. she smells like she always does: like grapefruit and spicy cedar. you feel relaxed in her embrace, taking in her appearance. she's wearing a cropped tank with a large flannel that slips off her shoulder thanks to the heavy tote she carries.

with a sigh, you take the tote off her. "your hair grew longer," you comment as you place the bag on her desk. karina does a little spin for you, giving a full view of the wavy locks that came all the way to her navel. it only made her that much more charming (you couldn't resist wanting to know what it would feel like to run your fingers through them).

you watch as karina lugs all her stuff into the room, refusing your help with a strict look. "can't have you spraining something already, jagiya," she quips and that's all it takes for you to sit back obediently. she takes off her flannel, letting you take in her arms. was it just you or did her biceps get bigger? (it wasn't just you. karina spent her summer the gym rat way.)

"you barely have any stuff…" you murmur mindlessly when she's nearly done in half an hour. for reference, it took you three whole hours for two days to set your stuff in place.

"you just have a lot of stuff," karina laughs, closing her closet with a satisfied clap. "thoughts on ordering in for din'?"

you raise a brow, "shouldn't we at least go see if everyone's back?"

she shrugs, "we can just go after we eat." she approaches your bed, resting her forearms next to you. "come on, i don't feel like eating that prison food just yet."

despite karina's exaggeration (your dining hall makes perfectly edible food), you let karina order for you. who are you kidding? the thought of sharing a meal with your newly established roommate in your new room on your first day together… it was sweet, you had to admit. so you give in and tell karina exactly what toppings you want on your bowl.

but where you had expected to bond in all kinds of cozy ways with karina, the night quickly an unexpected turn. you're not sure how it happens but you end up caged under karina's body on your bed. her hot breath is hitting your face, "you got even prettier over the summer, huh?"

her words make it harder to think. to think about how this your best friend slash roommate slash the person you would do anything for. fuck, it's too late and you're too helpless when it comes to her. karina's already sliding her hand down your stomach, eliciting a mewl of her name from your throat.

she looks pleased, chesire grin lighting up her face when she reaches your panties. "mhm, karina–" you claw at her shoulder when a cold finger meets your slick folds. she kisses your cheek and then your mouth, so strong that you can't do anything but hold her closer to your chest till she's ripping a scream from you.

"karina, what are we doing?" you cry out, still coming down from your orgasm. what the fuck, this not a situation to be with your roommate.

"what?" she whispers, lips attached to your neck without a care in the world, "i'm just doing what i've been wanting to all summer."

"okay, that's enough," you push her off until you're both sat. you're breathless so it doesn't help the gravity of the glare you hold karina captive under. she sits back on her palms, eyes hooded.

"we're friends," you start and sensing the protest rising in her, you hold up a hand, "and roommates. you know what they say about that, don't you?"

"don't shit where you eat," she deadpans, "but i don't care. i'm not shitting anywhere. i like you, you like me. that's why we're friends. if we want to fuck around a little, what's the big deal?"

you contain a scoff at how unbothered she is. at the same time, her words stab you in the heart, the subtle friendzoning nature of them not going unnoticed (that's why we're friends? what if you wanted to be more?)

"listen, jagiya," karina shifts dangerously closer, a thumb wiping away the sweat on your lip. "it's chill. we don't have to if you don't want to. but i'll tell you right now; i want to do things with you."

"things?" you breathe even though you know you shouldn't fall into her trap.

"yeah," she caresses your cheek, licking her lips, "want to kiss you. make you come. that sort of thing."

you fall against her weakly, feeling the soft strands of her hair envelope you like a dream. with your eyes closed, all you can feel is warmth of her body and none of the cold of her words (kiss, fuck, chill. no love.)

"only if you let me eat you out, too," you finally murmur against her skin. feel her shake with laughter.

"thought you'd never ask."

you wake up in karina's arms. she'd dozed off in your bed as if hers wasn't two hops away. the thoughts makes you flushed (despite everything) and you turn around to face her. she's still asleep, peaceful as ever. you trace the mole below her lips, envious of how little she was attached to you.

not to drown yourself in self-pity, you had always been too attached to karina for your own good. a week into being friends with her, you would jump at a text from her, dropping everything to meet at her the cafe she had wanted to try or to help her get ready for a party.

but it wasn't without reason. she was sweet to you, genuinely. karina sensed your moods smoothly, knowing when your silence was more than comfortable and when your drunk crying meant you were actually upset over something. she listened to you, no matter how little you claimed the problem to be, her reliable shoulder always yours when you were in trouble.

so you couldn't blame the butterflies in your stomach at waking up with her. right?

"we never made it to meeting our friends," karina mumbles through a yawn later. you're both in the middle of getting ready for the day, thankfully still a grace day before classes start.

"you clearly had other plans," you purse your lips in the mirror, working on fixing a bump in your hair. stupid karina and her arm under your head all night.

she comes up behind you with a playful smile, taking the brush from your hands to rake it through your hair herself. "you say that like you didn't have fun," she says. she brings your hair into a bun, taking a hairtie off her wrist to secure it in place. patting your head with eyes on you in the mirror, "there. you look cute."

you heave a deep sigh at the motions that stir up at her actions, sliding away to pretend to busy yourself with your bag. "we should go meet them today," you say, "or they might declare us dead."

"definitely," karina laughs.

meeting your friends helps you a little. maybe it's because you're seeing them after so long or maybe it's just the fact that you have normal friend feelings for them. but it's nice, you can lose yourself in a nonsense conversation with seungkwan about your recently acquired obsessions with various mobile games.

he's in the middle of offering to show you his brand-new coffee machine when karina shouts, "guys! gather up! minjeongie is driving us to get ice-cream! on her!"

you spot the short blonde attacks on karina at the presumably false declaration. your rommate dodges well, bent in a fit of laughter at minjeong's tantrum. "okay, i lied! everyone buy your own ice-cream."

as it turns out, minjeong's car is definitely not big enough to fit all 8 of your friends. "looks like we're fighting it out the fairest way," seowon declares, readying her fist for rock paper scissors.

"since only five of us can go," karina starts, somehow finding her way next to your side. you shiver when her hands clasps yours. "minjeong, y/n, and i are definitely going."

you watch in shock as everyone wreaks havoc at her words. "now why would we allow that–"

"see, it's technically just two seats taken," she explains calmly, "y/n's sitting on my lap anyway." you gape at her audacity as she holds up your intertwined hands, like a wedding announcement.

you try to weasel out of her grip, mumbling, "that's fine. i don't really want to go–"

"what? of course you do," karina's hand tightens and you curse her strength, "you love ice-cream, jagiya. come on. let's go."

your friends seem dubious of the interaction but with a few statements along the lines of they're in their honeymoon phase as roomies, they return to the rock-paper-scissors battle at hand, now the stakes reduced to four seats now.

"calling shotgun by the way!" karina calls as she pulls you after. you don't know what to say honestly, overwhelmed by her hand in yours. you had expected her to pretend things were the same as always but clearly not: you had never gone as far to sit in her lap with your friends around (alone was a different story. but you swear you'd only ended up in her lap because she'd wanted to hug you through your breakup with your ex.)

"karina, you're crazy," you tell her, finally shaking your hand free. you cross your arms and karina simply takes a chug of water from the brita in geum's minifridge.

"why? because i volunteered my lap so we'd get to go?"

before you can really give her a piece of your mind, minjeong interrupts. "looks like they figured out the winners. we're leaving in the next five minutes or the offer's off the table."

–

two weeks and your mom invites me to [lunch]

"y/n, it's so nice to see you again," karina's mom is saying, sliding a menu toward you. thanksgiving week was around which meant parents were abundant on campus these days. it also meant your own mom couldn't make it because she was swamped with work, no thanks to her job as an on-field reporter.

"of course, you've lost so much weight since we last met, eommeoni," you smile.

this is fine for the most part of it. you genuinely enjoy karina's mom's company. she's kind and sincere, always bringing a gift for you along with karina and treating you like her own. but this time around it's different because it's the first time you've been sleeping with her daughter.

in fact, just that morning, karina had kept you in bed longer than usual, complaining because you had gone to bed earlier than usual. it had been part of your plan to keep your conscience clean for when you met her mother, to make sure you didn't lose her respect. but being the nefarious idiot she was, karina had crawled up your torso, eyes going sweet at you, "please, just once?"

so now you had a dirtier conscience than usual, having been panting in karina's lap just hours before this lunch.

but even if you tried to maintain composure in front of her mom, karina made it impossible. she slid close to your shoulder, hand splayed across your bare thigh (curse you and your decision to wear your sundress out today). it's honestly harmless and even excusable as a friendly gesture, but ever so occassionally, her hand climbs up, reaching closer and closer to a position that was far from appropriate.

"so tell me, do you two have any classes together this semester?" karina's mom asks you between mouthfuls of rice. you take the chance to peel karina's hand off but it ends up at your knee like a magnet.

"not really," karina answers easily as if unaware of the power struggle going under the table. probably because she was winning by a mile.

"i told karina she should take an elective with me but she refused," you complain, deciding if this was the way you could hit back then so be it.

"i think you forgot to mention it was an economics elective," she corrects you, hand basically clawing at your inner thight by now. you shift uneasily and karina's mom laughs.

"you know jimin," she shakes her head, "she doesn't take the serious courses. only painting all day long."

"eomma," karina groans, "how many times do i have to tell you? it's not just painting. i'm an arts major. that's like the second hardest major at this school."

"really? what's the hardest major?" (the only right question for a mother to ask.)

the rest of the lunch goes by quickly, fortunately for you. you're the first out the door, eager to put some distance between you and karina. you pretend to fan yourself out of the hot mess she's made of you.

"i have to say," karina's mom says as she gets ready to leave, "you two seem to have gotten closer since you started rooming together."

"really?" karina wonders as if clueless to the arm around your shoulder, where it had been the whole walk back to campus from the restaurant. (insufferable, you whisper to her. cute, she accuses you.)

"thanks for sticking next to her, y/n. who knows where my little girl would be without you?"

you brush of karina's mom's words of flattery, not voicing the thoughts that arise. where would i be without your daughter?

–

i know what you tell [our] friends

imagining a life without karina becomes terribly real when it becomes clear to you that karina truly has no intentions of treating as anything more than a friend who she sleeps with and not just as roommates.

it's a cold slap of reality that you finally feel one day when you're eating with minjeong and seungkwan. karina's next to you, like she so often is, hand on your elbow for no good reason.

"so everyone's been wondering…" minjeong starts to say and seungkwan shoots her a glare, realizing where this was going.

"...are you two a thing?" she points to the point of contact between you and karina.

"what?" you squeak, pulling away at the call-out. but your mind goes blank, all the excuses you had practiced in your head deserting you. you had expected someone to catch on sooner or later, but somehow right now all you can think of is how you already miss karina's touch. i'm in love with her, it occurs to you to say. (wait, you love her? you wonder distantly as if the answer hadn't been crystal clear the minute she crossed lines with you.)

karina shrugs, "we're fucking. but it's casual. no attachment or anything." she adds with an arm around you, "just girls being girls, right?"

you muster out a laugh to agree with her, ignoring the concerned look seungkwan pins you with. minjeong seems convinced though, "no way! you're sleeping together? i guess it must be convenient… you live together."

"yeah, you could say that," this time it's you responding, swallowing the tremble in your throat. you'd rather die than let karina get a whiff of your true feelings. you stand up.

"it's easy." it's the hardest. "not a big deal." you thought about it every waking second. "i have class now though. see you guys later."

you did not have class. you ran to the nearest bathroom stall to lock yourself in and let out the sobs that had been threatening your system for the past three weeks. you make sure nobody can hear you and then wipe your tears with the spare tissues you carry in your bag.

you leave, hoping nobody notices your red eyes.

that night, you go to your room later than usual, counting on karina to be asleep. you should know better though because she's up, in nothing but her night shorts, sitting on your bed.

it almost frustrates you for a moment, the sight of her curled up so comfortably on your bed like you were lovers. but you weren't. you weren't even close. but she perks up like maybe you are, calling out your name sweetly, "you're so late today. is everything okay?"

"yeah," you say, not making eye-contact for too long as you rest your bag on your desk. you contemplate leaving the room just so you didn't have to feel this hot volcano erupt in your chest. but instead, you undress, aware of karina's unwavering gaze. you make sure to slip off your pants and put on a baggy shirt. no shorts, like karina liked.

"we're a fully dressed person put together," she liked to joke when she'd bring your bodies close. you laughed along but all you wanted was to actually be one person with her. maybe that would justify why you were so attracted to her.

"come on,," she coos when you jump into bed. "i know something's wrong. your eyes are red. your shoulders heavy."

"can't lie for one second with you, can i?" you sigh into her skin when she hugs you.

"sorry, jagiya. maybe if i was a man, you could get away with it."

maybe that would make it easier. if one of you was a man. at least then someone would bat an eye at the concept of a no strings attached situationship between best friends. you were practically begging for someone to object to its apparently platonic nature. (you were begging yourself.)

"i didn't even shower," you complain when she explores your bare stomach with her fingers.

"it's fine. we'll just take one in the morning."

she holds you to the promise, waking you up half an hour earlier than usual just so she could drag you into the shower. two girls showering together, a sight nobody would see because it was dead quiet until an hour from now.

–

i try to be the chill girl

you knew it was too good to be true, your friends-with-benefit situation with karina. but now that your feelings are actually catching up to you, you can barely hold in the tears that overwhelm you when you look at her.

then, when you finally decide to suck it up and show up to dinner with your friends, it all goes south. thanks to some dumb group project karina's doing, a guy named taeyong was at your table. you knew him by name from college gossip. he was fit to be the protagonist of a rom-com, nice guy with the looks to go with it and he was friendly, fitting right in with the group of friends.

bitterly, you reflect on how long it had taken you, in comparison, to warm up to everyone. a month, maybe? plus, he looked perfect next to karina, their unusually good looks matching each other's quality.

you're not the only thinking that because geum pipes up, "you two look good together! when's the wedding?"

seowon hits his arm though most of the people on the table join in laughter. (you don't.) "come on, you can't force it, geum," she says, "they're clearly still getting to know each other."

"so it'll be official in say, a week from now?" minjeong teases, earning herself a blush from taeyong. karina is unruffled but she does smile a little at the teasing comments, side-eyeing the boy next to her.

right. they did look good together.

much to your discomfort, karina and taeyong only seem to become closer, with the latter frequenting your table at every meal. he assimilated easily with the group, already circulating inside jokes that you were conveniently not a part of.

speaking of which you were circulating a word tornado yourself: casual, no attachement, chill, convenient, easy… not a big deal. as taeyong became a regular with your friends, you became increasingly absent, coming up with excuses to take your meals at much earlier or later hours.

you're officially spiraling, doing your best to avoid karina. but avoiding karina meant avoiding your friends. it was a harsh truth but you came to realize you were only friends with them because of her and if you decided to break things off with her, you'd also end up a loner.

it was a cold, miserable place to be in, your mind. you left your room early and came back late to karina asleep. she'd tried to stay up for your sake a few times but you'd made your arrivals later and later, until she gave up and went to sleep.

you know you can only avoid her for so long before she caught you and grilled you but for now, you just had to come up with a way to keep yourself occupied. that afternoon, you get a text from her, asking to talk to you after dinner. you leave her on read for hours before texting back a quick "sure," afraid to go too far. you may be mad at karina for treating you in ways that left you confused, but you didn't actualy want to hurt her.

but come the time when finally face her and you realize it may be too late.

"so… why exactly have you been avoiding me?" more than anything, karina's voice is weary. she appears worried when you first take a seat across from her but when you don't look like you're in actual physical pain, her expression morphs into one of frustration.

"i'm not," you sigh, "i'm just busy."

"busy during every single meal? busy enough to leave before i wake up?"

"i'm taking more classes than usual," you say and though it's the truth, it's far from being the reason why you were acting this way. karina seems to know this.

"i'm taking an art class that has me staying back in the studio till 11," she tells you. only then, you notice the black charcoal marking her cheek. "but i still come home."

"sorry," you mumble, averting your gaze. "i'm not– you didn't do anything. i'm just… thinking through some things. i'll come back to the room earlier today."

"great, so now we're not close enough for you to share your thoughts with me?" this time karina actually sounds hurt. it was the indication of your friendship finally falling apart that has her sitting forward, eyes blinking in panic. "y/n, what the fuck?"

what the fuck, indeed. you try your best to reassure karina but it seems like she's done talking to you after that point so you see yourself out. a small part of you manages to wonder whose jacket was laid across the chair next to her. taeyong?

you find the answer the hard way when you come back to your room at a reasonable hour for the first time in a week. only to run into taeyong himself.

he seems like he's in a hurry when you step in, rushing to put his jacket on (yes, the jacket that you saw next to karina earlier today) and avoiding your gaze. you don't even pretend to seem pleased encounter him there.

you fix your glare on karina, kneeling on her bed. she lets out a sigh when she sees you. "you're finally back."

you watch as taeyong leaves without a goodbye and you scoff, "i feel like i interrupted something. maybe i shouldn't have come back." you feel the blood rush to your head, all your convictions to lay out your unreciprocated feelings out to karina because she deserved an explanation.

right now, you just feel empty. and mad. so as soon as you rest your bag, you get to changing. but not into your night clothes.

"are you going somewhere?"

"...maybe."

"and what happened to our talk earlier?"

with a huff of disbelief, you throw your sweaty shirt on your bedroom floor. "well, i decided it meant nothing when i saw that guy leaving our room."

"taeyong?" karina looks baffled and you want to shake some sense into her so bad.

"yeah, i don't know, karina, the thought of you already replacing me with some dude–" you cut yourself off when your voice breaks. "it's not a great feeling. so i'm just gonna leave."

"wait, what?" karina jumps out of her bed. "is this what you've been mad about all week?"

you pause your angry movements about your space when she comes close to you, touching your arm, first contact in days. you breathe unevenly, "karina, i just need some time–"

"are you crying, jagiya?"

you want to say it's stupid nickname that gets to your nerves finally breaking your walls down. but really, it's the warmth in her tone, the sound of her breath hitting your ear so close. you'd missed karina. that's why you end up sobbing, arms finding her neck to support you.

"karina, i'm–" she rubs your back calmly through your sobs. "i'm sorry."

"what's wrong, baby? why are you crying? please, talk to me."

"i think… i'm in love with you."

your confession is quiet, just like your love for karina has always been. actually no, that's what you want to think but no, your love is loud: you look for her in every room you enter, hands already welcoming hers when she runs over to you. you're the first to laugh at her jokes, no matter how nonsensical or how many times she's told them to you. you may be a flustered mess when things got intimate, but you always made sure karina felt good, too – going far beyond your comfort zone to please her.

karina pulls away with a soft gasp. "that's not what i expected you to say."

"i know," you sniffle. "but it's been killing me. i know you wanted to keep things casual. and i know you and taeyong are–"

"okay, just so we're clear for once and for all– there is nothing between me and taeyong."

you freeze in shock, having been rock-solid in your assumption of their relationship. "what?"

"come on, i barely know the guy. but apparently, everyone's teasing got to his head," karina sighs, "he came here to confess to me earlier today. and i rejected him."

now his urgency to leave the room makes even more sense, you realize slowly. but you realize another thing: karina had looked cold when you'd entered, ending things with him clearly. yet, here you were, standing with her arms around your waist as if you hadn't declared your love for her.

"...and?" you prod her, biting your lip hopefully.

"and?" karina echoes you, eyes locking in yours to understand your hint. "oh, you wanna know how i feel?"

you nod coyly, a stray tear falling down your cheek as if on cue.

"well, let's start with a recap of this week. you ignored me so i felt like shit for most of it. and then you ignored me some more and i had to go to sleep lonely and sad. then, you stopped showing for meals so i didn't even want to eat anymore. what happened next? oh right, this evening. i had to practically beg you to talk to me–"

"okay, i get the idea!" you stop her with a groan, "i'm sorry, but i clearly had good reason to act the way i did."

"did you?" karina is suddenly holding your face, smiling turning bittersweet. "you idiot."

"huh?"

"i wanted to keep things casual because i wasn't sure how you felt about me. i wanted you to keep your options open till someone who you actually liked came along–"

"but–"

"this was long before i knew you were into me like that. you're really hard to read, you know? but yeah, i kept things casual because i'm selfish. i wanted to sleep with the girl i love without losing her friendship. i was obviously an–"

"idiot!" you hit karina's arm repeatedly at her revelation, tears filling up your vision yet again. "you love me?! why would you do that to me, then? are you–"

karina catches your fists in her with a heave, "i know, i know. i'm sorry, jagiya. but–" she brings your first to her chest, exposed by the deep neck of the tank she wore to sleep. "i'm serious about you, okay? i didn't want to gamble someone i cherished over some fucking around."

your body feels weak now that the truth is out in the open. you lean into karina. "you're so mean," you say into her neck, "i thought… you were chill."

she laughs at your complaint, "sorry. i'm dumb. dumb in love?"

you let karina coax you into her bed that night, kissing your body free of the tension you'd carried all that week like she was nursing you back to health. you can't help the tears that escape at her sweet touch, not new for her by any means – but different for you nevertheless, now that you knew how she felt. later that night, when you're falling asleep in her arms, in her twin bed this time, you feel her snuggle closer. warm nose against your cold cheek, she kisses you goodnight. (and a soft love you that you can barely distinguish from a dream.)

#karina x y/n #karina x you #karina x reader #karina aespa #aespa fics #aespa x reader #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #karina fics #aespa imagine #karina imagines #karina fluff #aespa fluff #aespa scenarios #karina angst #kpop fic #kpop x reader #kpop imagines

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yeonzzzn · 4 months

Text

✨all my little stars: park jongseong

epilogue for no limits duology | the limits series

pairing: jay x afab!reader word count: 3.2k

synopsis: jay’s world spins faster after finding out of your pregnancy and making the preparations for the life you both created with a mixture of the normal chaos and the unexpected.

genre: established relationship, blonde!jay, uncle!jay, fluffy, suggestive.

warnings: swearing, the boys being down bad (as usual), mentions of sex, pregnancy mentions, that’s probably it ♡

★ this is an epilogue of the spin-off to the main series, please read off limits / parts 1-2 to this spin-off before reading this one. they are tagged under the title ★

•·.·no limits spotify playlist'·.·•

“C-can you repeat that?” Jay’s throat went dry and his hands were shaking and his knees weak.

The doctor smiles at him, “I said, congrats Dad, you’re having twins.”

Twins? Jay couldn’t believe it. If it weren’t for the handrails he held a grip on the bed you laid in, he would have completely fallen to the floor at the news.

The surprising thing is, you weren’t even shocked. You saw it coming with how big your baby bump was. Mostly with Jay’s sister also being pregnant, her bump was of normal size. At first, you thought maybe your baby was growing a lot bigger than you’d thought, but as the days went on…it became obvious you were carrying more than one life.

Jay on the other hand looked like he was fixing to have a heart attack. You were genuinely worried for your fiancé until he looked over at you and his lips curled into a smile.

“Twins,” he chuckles and smiles wider, “Baby, we’re having twins,” Jay took your hands in his, placing kisses on their tops then placing a kiss on your forehead, resting his head against yours and rubbing the pads of his thumbs in your palms, “I couldn’t be happier.”

But oh man did the boys not let Jay live this down.

Jay’s sister took you and her out for some much-needed girl time for dinner and shopping, while Jay stayed behind at the apartment.

“BROTHER NO FUCKING WAY!! TWINS?!?” Heeseung laughed, slapping the back of his friend, “We get rid of Jake and __ just for them to be replaced.”

Jay dropped his head into his palms, “I’m so happy over it that I'm exhausted. But it was also such a shock.”

Heeseung was now running his hand up and down his back, “All jokes aside, I am happy for you man, this is great news.”

Jake nodded, standing from the solo recliner and ruffling Jay’s hair, “Just think our little Hwa will have not just two, but THREE family members to grow up with.”

Jay chuckled and sat back on the couch, his smile going from ear to ear. He was genuinely so happy. Twins?? He still couldn’t believe it. And the timing of his sister and you being pregnant at the same time was even more perfect. His children will get to grow up with hers, and neither of the four would be alone.

Jay let out a yawn, “Jesus. Jake, is this how you felt about the first check-up you and my sister went to for Hwa?”

Jake let out a soft groan and also leaned back, “Yes. I was shaking so badly and my ears were ringing. But it’s such a happy feeling at the same time.”

Jay nodded, taking a good long look at his best friend/brother-in-law, his eyes widening as he stood quickly to his feet, causing every male to stare up at up.

“You good?” Sunghoon asked, “Did having twins get to ya or something?”

Jay shakes his head, “No. I just realized I need to move YN in, like now.”

It was the one thing both you and Jay kept putting off. Specifically because of your parents, or well, father. If your father didn’t like Jay when they first met, he sure as hell didn’t like him now. From what you have told Jay, he already isn’t happy about the engagement or the pregnancy or moving out. But it is what it is. Jay didn’t care, he had you and that’s all that mattered to him.

Sunghoon whistles, “Guess this place will be crowded until Jake and __ officially move out.”

Jake smirked, “And guess who all is going to help move YN in and us out because the two females are pregnant?”

Jay also smirked and glanced down at Heeseung and Sunghoon.

The two males looked at each other, communicating silently.

“Nah,” Jake said, his Aussie accent coming out thick, “You two aren’t getting out of this!”

And they didn’t. You and __ sat on the couch with smiles on both your faces as you watched your men do all the work. Even Hwa was clapping and cheering the men on. It was adorable.

Before you knew it, you broke the lease for your apartment, had everything cleaned out, and officially moved in with Jay. It was meant to be this way, and long overdue.

The first night with Jake, __, and Hwa gone was too quiet. Jay rolled over onto his back and exhaled out.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” you asked, not moving from the position you were lying in but shifting just enough to look at his face.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked, tilting his face towards you. You shake your head, waiting for his response to your question, “It’s just…quiet.”

You smile at him, reaching your hand over and running your fingers through his blonde hair, “You’ll just have to get used to it, it’ll be okay.”

Jay closed his eyes as you continued to run your fingers in his hair, and sighed at the loss of your touch and seeing you roll back over. Jay moved to his side and pressed his chest to your back, hand slipping under your night shirt and rubbing at your pregnant tummy, his lips making home against your neck.

“We can always make some noise of our own,” he whispers against your neck, now sliding his hand down to the waistband of your shorts, “You’re so sexy pregnant.”

You chuckle at the feeling of his cock twitching against your back, leaning into him and tilting your head to give him more access to your neck, “Do you want to make some noise?”

He laughs against your skin, slowly pulling down your shorts and panties, “Always.”

—

Time seemed to have flown by too quickly. Every day it's getting harder and harder to do normal daily activities and the males of the apartment forcing you to basically be a couch potato. When Jay wasn’t home to help take care of you, Heeseung or Sunghoon was always around to help out in any way they could. You always felt terrible, but they didn’t mind. They did this for __ when she was pregnant with Hwa.

But at the same time, you couldn’t complain. It gave you time to plan your and Jay’s wedding. The best thing is that you didn’t have to worry about catering for food or flowers since you and Jay both own a restaurant and flower shop. Saves a lot of money.

Months passed and __ finally was rushed to the hospital to birth to her and Jake’s second child. And to Jake’s lucky stars, they had a baby boy: Ha-Yoon Sim.

Jay slapped the back of his best friend’s back, “You got so lucky having a boy.”

Jake gripped the bed rails of his wife's bed, sweat rolling down his face as he stared at her with their baby boy, “You’re telling me.”

You stood on the other side of her bed, running your finger on his cheek, a small yawn escaping his lips, “Gosh, he’s a spitting image of Jake,” you giggled to her.

She lifts Ha-Yoon up, rubbing her cheek against his forehead, “Both of my kids look way too much like their father.”

Jake tilts his head, “You say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Jay takes a good look at his nephew and laughs, “Still has the Park nose too.”

Sunghoon shakes his head with a wide smile, “I don’t think either of you will ever get away from the Park's nose.”

“Ma,” Hwa softly said, clinging her hands to Heeseung’s shirt as he held her in his arms. Her eyes carefully watched her mother and baby brother.

“Wanna see your new brother?” Heeseung asked, brushing his nose against her cheek and making her giggle.

“Hee,” she giggles more, now brushing her nose against his cheek.

“Bring her over,” Jake reached his arms out for his daughter, Heeseung transferring her over. Jake leans Hwa over the rail, her eyes staring down at her brother, “This is Ha-Yoon,” Jake kisses her cheek, “This is your little brother.” Hwa’s lips tried to speak the word brother, she looked over at Jake with a confused look, “Brother,” He said again with a smile.

“Frother,” she tried, and Jake just nodded and smiled more.

Jay was now at your side, shifting you over a bit to lean over and hug his sister, “Our little family keeps on growing. I’m proud of you, stinks.”

With a free arm, she hugged him back, tears swelling her eyes, “I know. I love you so much, big brother.”

Jay kissed his sister's forehead and ruffled her hair, “I’m going to teach Ha-Yoon how to play the guitar and to cook, be prepared for that.”

She rolled her eyes but kept her smile, “Of course you will.”

Watching your family smile and laugh had you placing your hands on your tummy, being excited to meet your twins and grow this family even more.

Jake glanced up at you, seeing how you trace and look at your pregnant belly and he couldn’t help but smile even more, “You’ll be due in two months, ya?”

You look up at him and nod, “That or sooner.” Jay was now wrapping his arm around your waist and placing a hand in the middle of your belly and kissing your temple.

Jake shifted his eyes to Jay and then back to you, “I can’t wait to meet my nieces.”

Jay whipped his head to his best friend, tilting it to the side and glaring at him, “You want me to fold, don’t you?”

His sister scoffs, “You’re so girl dad, big brother.”

Jay looked between his sister and Jake, “You both are manifesting girls aren’t you?!”

Heeseung pulled up a chair and leaned his elbows onto the bed, “Jay, just accept you’re having twin girls.”

Sunghoon added, “Both Jake and yourself have shitty luck, you’re going to have girls.”

“There’s still time!” Jay said with a sigh, leaning his head against yours. Jay wouldn’t mind girls, he’ll love his children regardless of gender. He just knew it would be over for him. If he thought it was bad when Hwa was born…it would be worse when you give birth.

And finally, that fateful day arrived.

Jay held your hand, squeezing it tightly as you pushed. Sweat rolled down the sides of your face, holding your breath with each push.

“That’s it, keep pushing, YN,” Jay said, wiping the sweat off your face, “Keep taking deep breaths, my love. You’re so strong.”

You flung your head back onto the pillow, gritting your teeth and using every ounce of strength you had to push out the bundles of life.

“Good, good,” the doctor said, “Baby number one is almost there.”

Jay rested his head on yours, his knuckles turning white from the grip he had on your hand as you squeezed back tighter. You didn’t take another breath until crying filled the hospital room.

“One baby out, keep up the pace, YN,” the doctor said, her smile wide as she looked up to you and Jay, “One baby to go.”

Jay pressed a kiss to your brow, “Almost there my rose petal, keep fighting.”

You took a few deep breaths and nodded, pushing with all your might, a pained groan leaving your lips as your second baby finally made its way into the outside world.

“Congratulations parents, you did it!” the doctor said, taking your second child to be bathed and cleaned up.

Jay chuckled, his smile big, forehead still resting against yours, “It was all her, I’m just here for support.”

“Your support still did something,” one of the nurses said, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder, “Want to come meet your daughters?”

Daughters. Everyone was right. He was done for.

Jay swallowed and nervously nodded, “Yes, please.”

The nurse smiled and led him over to the table where his daughters lay side by side, their sobs stopping the minute Jay reached the table, their brown eyes staring back at him.

His whole body shook, hands trembling and knees weak. He gripped the table, trying to steady himself from falling over. His girls…these are his girls. Two lives he helped create. Two lives that are now his entire world and more. His knees buckled, the nurse taking to his left and helping him regain his balance.

“Everything okay?” you asked out of breath, concern filling you as you watched your boyfriend nearly fall over.

Jay nodded, tears swelling his eyes as he gently traced his fingers down his twin's faces, “They are so perfect.”

“Want to hold them?” the nurse asked, “I can help.”

Jay nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to hold his baby girls.

He picked one up, reaching his other arm out to take the second from the nurse, holding them closely to his chest and walking over to you, “Baby,” he sniffled but held his smile, “They are so beautiful.”

You sat up the best you could, reaching your hands out, “Gimme, please.”

Jay placed one of your daughters in your arms, “This is Aera,” he smiled, then held up your second daughter to his face, kissing her forehead, “And this is Hana,” then placed her in your other arm.

“Aera and Hana Park,” you smile, tears swelling your eyes and slowly falling, “They are perfect.” The minute Jay held his daughters' gaze he knew their names for them were perfect.

He watched as you cuddled Aera and Hana to your chest, placing kisses on their small faces.

And that was all it took for him to crumble. Tears streamed down his face as his imaginable barrier of protection was placed over the three of you. Jay leaned over the bed, wrapping the three of you in his arms, and cried into your hair, “My girls,” he took a shaky breath, and placed a kiss on your temple, “My sweet girls, I love you all so fucking much,” He leaned back but kept his arms tight around you three and connected his lips to yours, breathing you in to stabilize him, “My rose petal and little stars.”

There was a knock on the hospital room door, and a nurse opening it, “Are you the family?” she asked. Jay perked up, thinking his parents, sister, niece and nephew, and best friends arrived, only for his smile to fade at hearing a voice he didn’t want to.

“Yes,” the man said, “I am the father of the one who gave birth.”

The one who gave birth huh? Can’t even call her your daughter.

The nurse let your father and mother in the room, Jay quickly stood upright and walked to the edge of the bed, his protective nature coming out.

Your father stopped a good distance away from Jay, your mother standing right behind him.

Jay gritted his teeth, “If you’re here to play some kind of sick fucking game, get the fuck out!”

You didn’t even stop him for his outburst. It was well deserved. Mostly after the fit your father threw once you broke the lease to your old apartment and the way he got upset over finding out you was pregnant. You held your daughters closer.

Your father sighed and looked to the floor, “I didn’t come to start any fights.”

Jay clenched his fists, “Then why are you here?”

He glanced up at Jay and took a few steps forward, placing his hands on his shoulders. It took everything in Jay to not push him off.

“I want to be in my grandchildren’s lives, after thinking long and hard, I knew if I continued down this path I would have not only lost my daughter, but my grandchildren.”

Jay looked back at you, your eyes wide as you stared at your father, waiting for you to respond. But you never did.

He looked at your father, “I think she needs time,” and your father nodded.

“Anything she needs, I will do,” he squeezed Jay’s shoulders and then gave them a slight tap, “Welcome to the family, son.”

Your parents walked to the door, giving you one last look then walked out.

You didn’t realize how long you held your breath until Jay was back at your side and pushing your hair from your face, “YN, breathe.”

You looked up at him, “Why did it take birthing my children for him to decide to change?”

Jay continued running his hands through your hair, “Sometimes it takes something great coming into the world to change everything,” he looked down at his daughters, “The minute I looked at our girls, everything changed for me. My life has a greater purpose. I’m sure he felt the same.”

You just nodded looking down at your girls. You weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive your father, but the fact he showed up was a start.

Another knock happened on the door, the nurse giving you and Jay a concerned look as she went to the door, barely sliding it open and peeking out, “Are you family?”

“Hell yeah, we are! I’m ready to meet my nieces!”

Jay exhausted out a sigh at the word choice his sister decided to make.

The nurse stepped to the side, his sister rushing in with Jake carrying Hwa in one arm, and Ha-Yoon in his car seat carrier in Jake’s other hand. Heeseung and Sunghoon trail in after along with Jay’s parents.

“No one even told you guys I had girls,” Jay teased, reaching out to hug his sister.

“No one had to,” she teased back, squeezing him tightly, “We already knew.”

She practically shoved Jay out of the way to run to your bedside, “YNNIE!!” she cheered, leaning at your side to get a look at your girls, “Oh my god they look exactly like my brother!! They have the Park noses too!!”

Hwa stretched her arms out, “Jay!” her sweet voice coos, Jay taking his niece in his arms and then reaching out to hug Jake.

“Can’t get away from the Park nose,” Jake said with a smile, hugging Jay tightly, “Congratulations, brother.”

“Thanks, man, it means so much.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon were next to hug Jay, then his parents, each of them smiling wide and giving their congratulations.

“Babies!” Hwa said, pointing at you and her cousins.

“That’s right!” Jay said with excitement, “You want to meet your cousins?”

She smiled and nodded, “Cousins!”

You smiled at little Hwa when Jay sat her on the bed at your side, holding her shoulders, “Hi Hwa,” you said softly, “This is Aera and Hana.”

Hwa smiles and lifts to her knees, little hands placed against yours that hold the girls, “Family!”

“That’s right, sweet girl,” her mother sniffled, “We are a big family.”

Everyone crowded around your bedside, each taking turns holding both of your girls.

You looked between each of them, tears falling down your face. Family. This is your family.

Jay pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Nothing can get better than this.”

You nodded, pulling him into a tight hug. Nothing could beat this.

‧₊˚✧THE END✧˚₊‧

— perm tlist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle

@jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia

@wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @skzenhalove

@fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun

@cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs

@seunghancore @enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee

@hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae @kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee

#jay bae #jay park #park jay #park jongseong #jongseong park #jay x reader #reader x jay #reader x park jongseong #park jongseong x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #yeonzzzn writing #no limits duology

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

in so deep ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, charles has a huge crush and is a lovesick bloke, smut, humor, Fluff

word count: 13.1k

It takes you many cities, a botched Halloween costume and a failed break-in to realize how much Charles likes you. It takes Charles several years to realize he doesn’t need to do much to have you like him back. title from this

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, praise central, size kink, unprotected sex

auds here… thank u for all ur love during my periods of being awol .... i wrote this over the course of a week and i hope u all like it!!! its very much a self indulgent thing... :P

The first time Charles realized he liked you, you were both posed for a picture.

It happened at a dinner party in London, in late autumn, thrown by you to celebrate your first year on the paddock as a reporter. Few friends had been invited but, with how noisy everyone was and with the ease of conversation, it felt like a houseful of people in your narrow dining area. Lando was in front of the mirror, tipsy, demonstrating his best rendition of an Irish accent to a genuinely interested Alex and Lily.

Max was playing with your pet cat, Gene Kelly, and mentally plotting a heist to sneak him out with Pierre’s help. Your boyfriend, Liam, was making himself a cocktail. And Lewis had been roaming around with a glass of dry wine and his brand new film camera to document the night’s festivities—but the host was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to everyone, full off dinner and tipsy off cocktails, you’d ducked into the balcony to find where Charles had run off to for the night.

The music was muffled when you shut the door, leaving it ajar just a little bit. Lissie had played Cocteau Twins and was singing whatever gibberish lyrics played, fully drunk off a bottle of Tito’s. Still laughing over her predicament, you turned to Charles and refocused your attention on him. Is it boring?

What w… what is? He asked, turning to you. Briefly his eyes flitted to your hand, the bracelets clasped onto your wrist. He noticed you held matching bottles of beer but yours remained full, nail tapping idly on the semi-opaque glass.

My party, you responded wryly, cocking your head to the side. A loose tendril of hair fell over your eye and he itched to tuck it back in place, thumb over your ear. You continued, still pressing for an answer. You left to smoke but you didn’t come back.

I like the view. A half-lie but truthful in some way. He squinted to try and make out blurry, faraway signage. I should move here. Monaco makes me sick. He tried to say it jokingly, but was betrayed by the raw tone of his voice. You hummed quietly, to signify you were listening.

So move. Who’s stopping you? You smiled slightly. Aside from your ludicrous career, of course.

You had a natural disposition of—something. He didn’t quite know how to describe it, almost like the rest of him had yet to catch up with something only his heart was already decided on. You spoke and acted with some kind of smoothness that only the most popular kids in secondary school could have reins over, but you always claimed you weren’t very popular in your teenage years. He just knew he liked hearing you talk, watching you smile. He felt something—but he didn’t want to name it even if he knew exactly what it was. Instead he played into your joke. Yeah, I’ve been told I should move to Dubai instead, become a prince.

You laughed aloud. You are terribly unfunny, you know that?

Am I? He asked. Just then, as the cotton of his tee brushed against your bare shoulder, Liam brashly tugged the balcony door open to find you. He had this drunk smile on his face, brushing his blond hair out of the way and raising a Leica to the two of you.

Hey, I got Lewis’ camera. Smile, Liam had said, eyes squinted behind it. You remained still, half-turned to the camera, and Charles gave a smile whereas you remained in a neutral, half-smiling pose. And right there, at that very moment, as a giggle escaped your lips from having to pose so quickly and even awkwardly, Charles realized with a damning force that he had a massive crush on you.

Liam had left shortly after to resume taking pictures, but would later confront you over your “weird, odd, fucking closeness with the Monegasque bloke” that you would vehemently deny despite a gut-churning feeling boiling low in your stomach. But that’s later. Your conversation continued calmly, along the passive whir of London and the streets below. You both people-watched as you thought of things to say—finally Charles said, Are you interviewing me next weekend?

I always try to get out of it when it’s with you. You rolled your eyes, feigning irritance, then smiled to break the illusion. I think so.

I’ll make sure I have good answers. You’re too smart. Hurts to be in the same room.

Like you aren’t, you said back, but the rebuttal is shy in nature, like he struck you with a compliment so high you couldn’t bear to return it. He felt then like this was the kind of moment where you would start holding hands any minute, timid touches between clinks of bottles. He remembered Liam existed and screwed his eyes shut. He wished so hard to be able to kiss you. Abandon all sense and just kiss you.

—

“It’s 2023 and still London has the most rubbish ass, fucking cunt, stupid wanker stoplights,” Lissie huffs beside you, checking her watch. “Right then. We’re going to be late. You know how Lando is when people are late. Especially because this is his event.”

“We’re not people to Lando,” you reason, tapping the steering wheel. The ETA on your navigation app tells you you’re still twenty minutes away. “We’re his best friends. If he can’t forgive us, we should kick him out of the group chat.”

“Ooh, and add Alex,” Lily pipes up from the backseat, where she’s redoing her eyeshadow to pass the time. “I keep telling you guys he’s funnier than Lando.” Both you and Lissie make faint, vague sounds of dissent and she grunts again, deflating.

“No boyfriends in the group chat,” Lissie repeats an age-old rule that’s been around for as long as you three (four, including Lando) have been friends. “Or girlfriends, in Lando’s case, but we haven’t worried about that much, have we?”

You’re all en route to watch Lando crank out a brand-new deejay set, one he’s spent the summer break working on. It’s all house and inspired by beach music, and he’s very proud of it, so of course you’re all showing up to laud him. You’re not the only ones, though, apparently—whoever’s in the city is showing up to show their support, which includes a whole stretch of drivers.

“Oh, my God!” Lily says all of a sudden, eyes wide at something on her phone; you both gesture for her to show you and she does with speed. “Do you guys remember this? God, Instagram archives are a godsend.”

“Your dinner party in Chelsea!” Lissie coos, immediately sidling into a fond awwww! You tap at the story Lily had then posted: a video of everybody eating. You tap again to view the one she posted a few days later, which was a collage of Lewis’ camera scans he’d gotten developed overnight. There in the upper right corner, you almost immediately spot your photo with Charles.

“Oh, Christ, that picture.” Memories of your subsequent arguments with Liam flash past your head. Playfully, all you say is, “And I never had a boyfriend again.”

“Liam was an Irish arse, anyway.” Lissie scoffs. “Nobody liked him. Lewis joked about cleaning his camera after he used it that night. Plus, you actively avoid dating, so don’t complain.”

“Fair,” you say with a slight smile. Your mind lingers on the picture, the imprint of it burned fresh into your mind.

“You—it’s also because you can’t take a hint, babe.” Lily says matter-of-factly. “Who knows how many guys have, you know… fancied, or, like, had crushes on you, and you just never knew?”

“Are you saying somebody fancies me?” You ask, voice whittling out playfully as your eyes count down the seconds to the green light.

Funnily, silence is all that answers. Beside you, Lily and Lissie exchange a look—one that communicates their years-long amusement over your cluelessness. You whirl back to them, eyebrows raised, and double down: “Wait. Does somebody fancy me?”

“No!” Lily ekes out; you don’t miss Lissie’s poorly-hidden laugh. “No. I’m just—it’s just—no.”

Truth is, it truly seems like the only person in the entire paddock (team and Sky Sports staff included) who hasn’t caught on to a certain somebody’s boyish crush is the crush herself, oblivious as ever, even years and years later. One might think you’d have realized eventually, but perhaps owed to your type A personality and immersion with work, and Charles’ pathetic and total inability to express how much he likes you, the crush has always remained just that, despite your two friend groups’ best efforts to hint at it.

It wasn’t to say, though, that you didn’t sometimes entertain the idea of liking him, too. On that one rainy race weekend when he’d brought you a plastic cup of soup, and embarrassed, laughed sheepishly at Lissie’s joking request for one; then returned twenty minutes later with soup for everyone in the media pen. Or that time in Monaco where he’d pretended to be your boyfriend at a bar to ward off a creepo from hitting on you any further. Or another time, in Budapest, when he’d drank half his body weight in jello shots and slurred out a goofy, heavy I’m soooo sorry, baby while you helped him into the passenger seat of his car.

That one, singular time in Cancun you told your friends once and never again.

But those are isolated incidents, you suppose; plus, dating someone you work with has never seemed like a remotely good idea to you, and you don’t think it ever will.

For all your thinking on the topic, you fail to realize that you don’t know much at all—you don’t know the fact that Charles has liked you for years, after getting to know just how charming and funny you were as a friend. You don’t know that he still gets gut-churning butterflies when he sees you, hands shaky and face tinged pink. You miss the fact that he’s not had any long-term partners in the years of his liking you. You don’t know anything.

“Don’t lie.” You narrow your eyes as you rev the car and continue the trip.

“We’re not,” Lily says loudly and a touch too defensively, crossing her fingers. Quietly, she continues, “You should just pay more attention.”

Whatever she meant to say is lost on you as soon as you make a left and spot the club Lando’s at, already teeming with high-profile guests and their high-profile cars. Half an hour later you’re in—valet and being on the guest list effectively cuts your entrance time in half. You separate at the entrance—you, to find Lando; your two girls, to find your reserved table. You find him eventually, busy behind the booth churning out high-frequency tropical music; he pauses for half a beat to flash a huge grin and a thumbs-up before redirecting his attention to the knobs and sliders you can’t seem to guess the functions of.

These kinds of parties are affairs in and of themselves. They mimic the afterparties during the season—nothing if not shows of opulence and networking: champagne paid for by business magnates, yachts that barely make dents in anybody’s wallets, thick CVs, fruity cocktails spilled on pieces of clothing that cost upward of 3000 pounds. You make eye contact with at least seven skeevy businessmen before you spot your friends, but only because you hear them first—by them you mean Lissie, her loud voice raised even more to match the noise at this club.

“I said I didn’t fu—ugh—I don’t want ye fahkin’ champagne,” she slurs out to an old man in a pressed suit, eyebrows knitted angrily. “Got it?!” Behind her, Lily and Alex (who’s arrived now, apparently) watch, concerned and helpless to stop her but equally (perhaps more) entertained.

You step closer and make a move to calm down the exchange taking place, but somebody whispers a “hey” in your ear and startles you. You turn, and come face to face with Charles. His black tee accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, which you connect to his crossed arms; there’s a shy, boyish grin playing on his face. “Oh, Charles!” You smile. “Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin, straining to raise his voice. “You look—you look well. Are you alone?”

“No, I’m—” You turn to your three friends nearby, and to Lissie’s argument heating up. “I actually have to go.” You raise your thumb, jabbing it toward them. “But hi again… again!” You both laugh, but he laughs much louder. “I’ll see you around.”

“I jus—” He says, and you stick around for a second to hear him say what he has to say.

“Yeah?”

He clears his throat and laughs stiffly, abandoning his previous statement in favor of a new one. “I just…. want… to have a great time.”

“Ohhhh,” you holler, nodding, clearly trying to mask your extreme confusion under a polite smile. “Okay, well… go ahead!”

You smooth down your dress and laugh again, evidently more forced but, unfortunately for Charles, not any less pretty.

You carry yourself in a very pretty, graceful way, loud and quiet at the same time, like your confident voice when you’re holding the mic and asking questions or making drivers laugh. He might sound creepy, though, a touch too observant, if he tells you so. He observes you instead, for a second, the low cut of your dress and the way the red overhead light shines on your exposed collarbones—and then you’re leaving. He watches you walk over to hug Lily, realizes how stupid he’s sounded, and smothers a hand over his face, humiliated.

—

“I just want to have a great time?” Max’s jaw drops and he shakes his head, disappointed above all else. “Charles, what the actual. Like…. fuck?” They’re all camped out at the latter’s hotel room, around the dining table, in varying states of sober and doing different things to wear off the last hour of the night before they’re all due to train or debrief again in the morning. Charles had relayed the disaster of the night to everyone at some point, but Max is the last to hear of it; this, unfortunately, does not inoculate him from the shock and secondhand embarrassment.

“Pierre told me to—” Charles starts, forlorn.

“Oi, no. I told you to say something like I just wish… I’d seen you sooner,” interjects the Frenchman with a tut. “You know, flirting? Not… whatever the fuck you said.”

“I didn’t—I was—I lost my mind,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. It couldn’t possibly be entirely his fault when you looked so pretty tonight, hair down and a wash of glitter on your eyelids. Just subtle little flecks of them. They brought out your eyes, too. And your blush, the pink flush of it that sat high on your cheekbones.

“…llo? Charles.” He blinks and sees Carlos’ deep eyes, wide and staring right at him, so pointedly he’s genuinely startled.

“Jeeesus fucking Christ. What?” He places a melodramatic hand over his chest. “Yeah?”

“What do you mean with the”—Carlos mimics his confused expression—“I asked you a question, tonto.”

“Don’t bother with him,” chimes in Pierre, half-distracted by his phone. He looks up with a devious smile and continues. “He’s still thinking of Miss Reporter of the Year.” A round of loud, jovial laughter makes its way across the table, a few teasing quips being chimed in here and there.

“I just,” mocks Pierre from across the table, adopting a sing-songy tone as he bumps his shoulder to Carlos’ with a mocking laugh. “Wanna have a great time.” His voice is much higher and more mocking, which is enough to send Charles into a fit of petulant embarrassment.

“This isn’t sixth year,” he grits out quietly, but the blush on his face could just as well be plastered on the cheeks of a twelve-year-old. “Give it a rest.”

“Mate.” Pierre’s voice mellows into something more austere. “You do know she’s leaving the reporters’ job at the end of the season? She’s going to London full-time. No more seeing her all year round. You know this. And I keep telling you. If you are really, and I mean really, interested, I say go for it. C’est la fucking vie, yeah?”

“Plus, if she says no, you can go for pretty much anyone else, anyway,” concludes Max with a convinced smile.

“It’s not the same,” he admits helplessly, smothering his hands over his face in bleak frustration. Behind his eyelids he sees you still, beautiful and smiling and funny—he seriously needs to institutionalise himself before he goes even more mad with the years-long malady he’s called a crush. And seriously, for a twenty-something to have something he calls a crush is despicable in itself. He feels juvenile.

“I can’t tell her. She’s always told people that dating coworkers is a bad idea.”

“You’re not coworkers.”

“We’re—well, we still work closely together. It is the same.” He groans. “It’s just… I’ve said it before. If I admit I like her, things will become awkward. I’d rather we remain friends.”

“Well… see, nobody said you needed to tell her,” begins Pierre schemingly, eyebrows raising. Around them, everybody groans at the birth of another Pierre-brained scheme that will, no doubt, need the enlistment of everyone’s help and will likely end in disaster. “What?! I’m just offering… I’m just saying, mate—you’ve liked her since forever. Why not make a move?”

“—I can’t—”

“Without telling her?”

“Pierre,” groans Carlos, ever the voice of reason, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t—whatever this is you’re planning, it’s going to go to shit. I swear.”

“You are acting like I plan to take somebody hostage.” Pierre shrugs. “You know, girls like when you don’t tell them straight up. You have to show you like them. You know, be interested in the things they’re interested in, compliment them, make them laugh. And then they think, oh, how thoughtful, oh, how adorable, and before you know it, they like you. And you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

“Mmm. Uh-uh. Untrue.” Max says decisively, shaking his head. “I told Kelly I liked her.”

“Yeah, sí. I told Isa I liked her, too.”

“Will you two—just—” Pierre gesticulates and makes a funny noise that insinuates just go with it. “Okay?” he points out to the latter, rolling his eyes. He turns back to Charles with a ready, dazzling, so-French-it’s-scary grin and continues. “I suggest you let us be your wingmen and help you charm her.”

“Whoa, whoa, wh—us? You’re on your own here,” Max quips with a laugh. “It’s your stupid idea.”

“It’s not stupid, and it’s going to work. She probably likes you already.” His confidence carries the lie with gusto. “We just need—you just need to show her instead of saying the dumbest shit to her face.” Pierre leans back into his chair and shrugs matter-of-factly. “Max and I will be regular wingmen, but we have a secret weapon.”

“Don’t—” Carlos starts with a sigh.

“Yes. Lando, Lily, and Lissie are all close to her, eh? Well, perfect—Carlos will get information from Lando about things she likes, you gift her those things or talk to her about them, bam she’s in love. It’s literally a perfect plan.”

Maybe it’s worth it. Maybe—

“No.” Charles shakes his head firmly, setting the record straight. “This will not work. Who’s to say she even needs a boyfriend?”

—

Despite what his best and closest friends—on and off the paddock—might have you believe, Charles hasn’t always been so hopeless when it came to trying to catch your heart. His closest call came in Cancun, after a long weekend of racing and a flight to the area, early into the night where he thought he was the only one who decided to opt out of partying.

Your skin’s peeling. You turned from where you sat on a barstool observing the shore, startled, immediately relaxing when you found him standing there eyeing you. Your hair was still damp, crunchy with saltwater, and your skin had tanned considerably, a sunburn sitting on the bridge of your nose. You stuck your tongue out.

I spent the whole day swimming. He observed your bikini, yellow and green contrasting the colour of your skin. He blinked slowly, ordering himself a drink to hopefully pass the thoughts away. His eyes couldn’t stop, though, wandering, the translucent material of the scarf you’d tied loosely around your hips, the tinge of heat on your shoulders and nose. I’m burnt everywhere.

There are remedies for that. He smiled around his glass.

I’m aware, you said lightly, crossing your legs and sliding your finger along the salt rim of yours. But just in case I forgot, maybe you could refresh my memory.

Your voice was so sweet, so low, so tempting. Already he knew he was wrapped around your finger, the same finger picking up grains of salt to press on your tongue peeking between your smiling lips. You brought your glass to your lips. It had been some time since the dinner in London so he pressed, his voice deep and a little rough, Liam can do that for you, I’m sure.

Pity, you said meekly as you set your glass down and looked back at him. He’s not my boyfriend anymore.

Out of eyeline, the bartender’s eyes widened at the exchange he was overhearing.

Is it a pity? He asked, leaning backwards and cocking his head to the side. It’s easy, an easy glide of conversation, flirt, something he’s wanted for a while now. To have you playing into him, and have himself playing into you, just like this. It was naturally easy in a foreign city where nobody knew who either of you were, where you were just two strangers flirting at a beachside bar.

Two strangers laughing while they dug their toes into the sand. Two strangers basking in the water, tinted orange by the sun dipping below the horizon, scarf untied in favor of one last swim before night fell. There was nothing keeping either of you from doing whatever you wanted. Nothing keeping Charles from finally acting on the attraction that honest to God crushed him.

You ended up leaning on the door of your hotel room, keycard fiddled in-between your sandy fingers. You combed a hand through your hair and offered a shy smile. So.

So, he replied, leaning closer. So.

Sooo. You were laughing and your breath smelled like a mint leaf and vodka. You looked up at him, blinking slowly. I have a rule.

What rule is that?

I don’t date coworkers. He wanted to dip down, place a hand on the dip of your waist, and kiss you.

Pity, he said gruffly instead, a smile forming on his face.

Is it a pity? You chewed on your lip and looked at his barely parted ones, pink and pretty. When I’m about to break it? He was about to help you do just that—eyes fluttered shut already—when a crash resounded from down the hall and you both turned to find the culprit. You broke apart and with your separation, whatever atmosphere of tension you’d built up popped, too, leaving you awkwardly standing beside each other.

Oh m… Lissie? You asked, leaning closer as you recognized your friend more and more. You narrowed your eyes, watching the girl crawl her way through the carpeted floor. Oh, Jesus—let’s—get you—

You both hauled her up and wrapped either arm around your shoulders, unlocking her hotel room with great effort and tossing her onto the bed. You stood back and sighed at her half-blacked out state, slightly amused but ultimately relieved she ended her night unscathed.

She pried one eye open and sleepily, she groaned out, what were… you two… doing together outside your room?

Nothing, you said quickly, face warm and eyes wide.

Because you—Lissie raised a lazy finger in your direction—don’t date coworkers.

I wasn’t—it wasn’t—goodnight, you spluttered, eyes refusing to meet Charles’ even as you both exited the room, paying him quiet thanks as he pulled the door back closed.

Sorry, you said, pretty as ever. The light shone on the red splotch on your nose. Goodnight.

And so he went to his room that night, bummed out and still high off your scent.

—

“You’re staring again.”

“I’m not,” he lies through his teeth, averting his eyes away from your figure by the shore. Sue him if he was staring (which he wasn’t… but most definitely was) but he finds you much too pretty. After the disaster that was the Mexican GP, he figures he could use some sort of stress reliever. Apparently he was not alone in thinking this, considering half the paddock hauled ass to Cancun and prompty partied.

Across Charles, Joris and Pierre share a knowing look that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I said I’m not!”

“So you are not staring at her blue swimsuit then?” Joris tests, mouth twisted into a devious smirk. “It’s black,” Charles says matter-of-factly before catching sight of his friends’ smug expressions and realizing he’s implicated himself. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, petulantly almost. “And I wasn’t. Can you fucking—fuck off?”

“Just ask her out already,” Pierre groans, nodding when Joris chimes in with agreement of his own. “I seriously can-not handle another bar of this shit. It’s been years.”

“I don’t know how to,” he laments. “It’s going to be awkward if I do it all formal, and she’s going—she’ll laugh at me, and it’s…” He blows a raspberry. “Non. Pointless.”

“Just kiss her at the party,” reasons Joris with an easy attitude, shrugging.

“Joris! Charles didn’t know about that,” Pierre says, trying to lower his volume, but it’s pointless since they’re barely a metre apart. “Fucking tattletale.”

“Party?!” Charles repeats, eyes wide. “Why don’t I know about a party?!”

“It’s a Halloween party,” Joris says, a wacky grin on his face. “And you said it yourself, didn’t ‘cha? You told us not to tell you if any functions were happening because you’re too tired to go to any. Too… too wrapped up racing.” He laughs. “Or something of the sort.”

“Well the season’s ending,” he huffs, wringing firm fingers over his face, his shut eyes, “and I still fucking haven’t… so I think I’m afforded a party.”

“Alright, then come to the party! Dress code, Halloween. Sexy Halloween.” Pierre wiggles his eyebrows. “You know, speaking of our plan, Carlos overheard Lissie and Lily talking about what your girl’s costume is going to be.” He leans in closer and laces his fingers together. “She’s going as a… Christina.”

“Christina?” The other two echo, confused.

“Christina. I did some digging, and I think it’s this.” Pierre scrolls and dicks around on his phone for a minute before turning it back around to Joris and Charles, who peek with great interest. They seem to be looking at an outdated movie poster of—

“Cas-per the friendly ghost,” Charles reads aloud, trying to get his accent to dissipate. “Huh. What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a movie, idiot.” Pierre shuts his phone off. “Starring who? Christina Ricci.”

“Vraiment? You think his crush is going to show up wearing… a white gown?” Joris asks, his mind stuck on the outfit he’d seen just seconds ago. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Well Carlos and I agreed, so. Two to two. And Carlos says she and her friends always wear silly costumes like these. So if she shows up as Christina, what better way to start conversation than to dress up as Casper?”

Charles’ eyes widen with comical horror. “No. No, no, no. Did the ghost and the kid fuck?”

“No!” The two men across him yell in unison.

“Right!” He gesticulates. “So it’s not a couples’ costume!”

“But it’s still—” Pierre pauses. “It still matches. Trust me on this one, mate.” He smiles. “We even brought the supplies.”

—

The party is a hit as soon as Charles and his group enter. The former finds refuge at the table, unwilling to socialize. Pierre roams for a bit and ends up finding you almost immediately—you’re wearing low-waisted pants, a strappy top, and you sport alternating streaks of blond and black in your hair.

“Hey!” He calls, jogging up to you. “I heard you were coming as a Christina. Guess who I am?”

You rake a hand through the streaks in your hair and smile. “Not just any Christina. The artist. Xtina? You know?” You twirl a bit, the dark material of your strappy pants swishing as you go, as if the movement will help Pierre deduce the costume’s identity. “Whatever. You’ll get it. Lando is—we’re matching tonight, but I g—it wouldn’t make any more sense if you don’t understand it.” You sigh a bit and gesture vaguely to the crowd behind you, referring to the Eminem-dressed Lando, who you guess is currently caught in the thick of.

“Xtina?” Iks-tina, he repeats, clearly confused. “I remember hearing… somebody saying you were going as a… a Christina.”

“Chris-tina, Xtina, yeah. Christina Aguilera.” You smile, fingers pinching at the material of your belt. “Anyway—where is everyone? I’ve only seen Daniel’s costume and then yours.” The recent memory of Danny’s neon orange traffic cone costume bumping into everybody flashes in your mind.

“Save yourself,” he huffs, smoothing calloused hands over the denim of his jeans. “Zhou and Esteban came as Bella and Jacob, Max as a Tifosi. Anyway”—he points to his ensemble—“guess yet?”

Your mental images of each cited costume are cut short. “Aha! You’re, um. Yes! You’re Ken from the Barbie movie,” you crack finally, remembering the revealing denim vest and jeans combo from the film you’d watched four times over in theaters a few months ago. “Wow, even your briefs say Ken. Very accurate. Minus the non-bleached hair.”

He tuts and shrugs. “I’m no Alex. What’d he come as?”

“He and Lily matched—Sonny and Cher.”

“Let me guess,” Pierre starts, and already you’re nodding because you can tell he’s going to predict exactly how the night has turned out, “Alex is Cher?”

“Wig and sequined dress and all.” You nod, laughing and squinting; Alex’s tall figure, head clad in a long, fringey, black wig, stands out above the rest. “Oh, I did see Carlos at the bar. Ricky Martin?”

Pierre really laughs at that, a loud, distinctly French guffaw involuntarily forced past his lip glossed mouth. “What the fuck, mate! Ricky Martin?! He’s El Profesor from La Casa de Papel. You know, Money Heist? Bella ciao? Oh, my God, he’s going to fucking freak if he hears—heard you said that.”

“He seriously gave off Ricky Martin vibes,” you defend in-between laughs of your own. “So that’s everyone? Oh—oh. Charles! What did… I never saw him! He kept telling me how excited he was for his costume, too…” Just a few hours ago, at that—a boisterous voice honing into the your voicemail inbox, boasting about a costume while you prepped for the party with Lissie and Lily. Your eyes peruse the room, but the lighting is too dark and vague for you to make out anything you haven’t already seen.

“Oh. Charles?” Pierre’s voice lilts higher. “Um. Yeaaah. Um.”

You, however, are sufficiently distracted by your own search for him, and you fail to notice Pierre’s clear scrambling attempt to stall you. He takes a long swig of beer and clears his throat. “He’s just, well, around. I should actually—excuse me, I need to actually go look for him. I owe him a drink.”

“Oh? Oh, okay. Well—be careful?”

You’re a bit surprised by his sudden, jolted departure, but bid him a rushed goodbye anyway. He waves back vaguely, his eyebrows furrowed into an expression of worry as he shoves his way back into the crowd and toward the area littered with tables. It’s only then that Lissie surfaces from the crowd, scratching absently at her nose as she crashes into you with a floaty giggle.

“Lis, you’re all sticky.” You place two palms flat against her shoulders and push her off. “Are you high?”

“Yes but not drunk.” She giggles again, eyes fluttering.

“Oh—that’s not. Whatever, I guess.” You exhale and cross your arms over your chest. “Who’ve you been with?” She listens, plays with the braid in her hair, matching her getup as Lara Croft.

“Um, the deejay. I gave him my number, but he’s actually pretty fucking weird. Come on, I want to pee.” As always, her speech quickens to something inhuman, an effect elicited by alcohol; giving you essentially zero time to react, she loops a hand around yours and drags you with ferocity to the nearest restroom. She moves so aggressively through the thickly-packed crowd you barely have time to react or say hi to people you’re acquainted with en route.

You whiz by the door, and in the rush, you notice Pierre entering the one adjacent with a worried expression etched onto his face. Just minutes ago you’d been conversing—you wonder why he’s suddenly become privy to worries.

“So the deejay,” says Lissie, effectively distracting you for the time being. You hum to signify you’re listening, fixing bits of your outfit in the mirror as she kicks different stalls open to judge their cleanliness. “One, he was dressed up as James Bond. Which is just about the most fucking pretentious thing ever. Two, all he played was Chainsmokers. You’re telling me this pub—club—whatever—in Mexico could only afford to commission this guy? Three, he was”—she kicks the last door open and a gasp escapes her and morphs into a semi-shriek—“a ghost?!”

“Ghosted you? Already?” Your eyes, focused previously on re-lining your lips, flits to Lissie’s in the reflection. She’s distracted, staring at the contents of a stall with comically wide eyes. “What’s up? S’that a fucking glory hole or something?”

“No!” She yells when you approach, immediately lunging forward to pull it shut. “No. It’s—I saw a roach. Serves us for going to a fucking… pub. Don’t go in there, it’s…” She exhales a long breath. “It was a mama roach and… with eggs.”

“What are you talking about?” This isn’t even a pub, it’s a nightclub—one with a door fee that definitely did not warrant rogue cockroaches in the water closet. “Lis, you’re drunk-hallucinating.” You’re not even sure if that’s a thing, but you shove past her and push the stall door open again, ready to come face-to-face with, maybe, a sleeping Tinkerbell or a puking black cat. Worst case scenario, shit on the floor; worst-er case scenario, Lissie is right and you’ve stepped into a den of roaches.

Weirdest case scenario, though, if that’s an actual thing: Charles Leclerc seated on the closed toilet seat, face painted white, wearing an all-white ensemble of a large white shirt, shorts, high socks, and sneakers. He’s got two hands on either side of the wall, as if he’d been preparing to escape; how or to where, you’re clueless. Why he’s here, you’re even more stumped.

His entire face is a stark white, with black smudges of face paint on his forehead (eyebrows, you’re guessing); his hair’s been curled by the humid air at this club, and he looks like himself in all the ways he totally does not, eyes big and caught when yours click onto them.

Despite confusion, you chalk it up, as one would rationally do at a party, to intoxication. You spend a few bated breaths staring at him staring at you, his face of pure shock and embarrassment enough to sober up a drunk for a few days. “Hi.” You can hear yourself say it, but you’re so caught off-guard and full of confusion it feels alien.

“Hey,” he says, wiping four fingers over his stubborn face paint with a smile. The smile and the paint barely fade. “I’m a ghost.”

“I see. Classic.” You pause. “I’m Chr… nevermind. Um—are you okay?”

“A bit, uh—a tad bit drunk. I seem to be in the ladies’ room.”

“Yeah, you seem to be,” you recite back to him, amusement quickly overtaking confusion. “I think Pierre was looking for you. Let me go get him. Lis, make sure he doesn’t…” You gesture a puking movement, and the pair watch and listen to your shoes click against the tile, before the door swings open and then shut again.

“Coast is clear.” Lissie’s voice has been lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I reckon everyone you know is already looking for you?”

“This is a disaster.” He rubs frantically at the face paint, but it’s horribly futile. “You know, I didn’t even realize I was in the ladies’ room until you two came in. She cannot see me like this.”

“She already fucking has, mate.” Lissie sounds exasperated. “Whose idea was this? If you say Pierre I swe—”

“—Pierre—”

“—ar to Jesus fucking Christ, Charles—I can’t keep saving you from Pierre’s antics.” She grumbles out a sigh. “What are you supposed to be, even? Have you—did you see how hot she looks? This is like… you look like a… I can’t—” She lets herself taper off, so disbelievingly shocked at his odd costume.

“I’m Casper the Ghost!” Lissie mentally forms a crude picture of the kid ghost, which looks absolutely nothing like what’s in front of her. “Casper was opposite Christina Ricci. Pierre told me so.”

“That’s the dumbest analogy ever, holy Christ. You look like a poster child for some…” She regards him for a moment. “Anemia advert.”

“Take that back.”

“You don’t really have the upper hand here, Charles,” says Lissie with a grimace. “I’m texting Pierre. Are you—did you even get drunk?”

“No,” he woes. “I am totally sober. I had to lie. Pierre went to the table and told me that my—that the costume we planned—it was wrong, and I just—I ran to the bathroom.” Lissie can’t help but laugh at the story, raising her camera to record the incriminating evidence.

Mid-video, Charles’ white face droops and his painted lips part to ask: “You think she found me cute?”

—

Charles likes finding things about you. He supposes the first time he realized just how much he liked hearing you talk about yourself—which you rarely did—happened in São Paulo. He’d been stressing over a spiel to recite in front of a camera, rewriting over words for hours to make everything sound more natural.

Each margin had been hastily written on with pencil, run-on sentences with semicolons in the place of periods. The team scriptwriter didn’t do much to make his lines sound more natural and less like they’d just been spat out of an online translator. You peeked into the media pen and coughed. You don’t belong here, do you?

Tch, he clicked his tongue, turning to offer a smile. I’m working on a script for Sunday. Portugese stuff.

I can help, you responded, walking slowly over toward him. You smiled quietly, approaching slowly like you were waiting for him to greenlight your offer. He did so by pulling a chair out for you, and once you sat you traced a nail over each line, murmuring them under your breath.

You speak Portugese?

You looked up and gave a half-shrug, laughing like you were amused with yourself. Kind of. It’s not very good, but it’s enough. You resumed your editing and he felt content to stare, admire, watch every movement of your lips align with the syllables of the words. You asked for a pencil and began writing something much cleaner. He couldn’t help but let himself be in awe of your intelligence.

You read over the last few lines and turned to face him. Let me guess, you said. You want to make a pun on Ferrari before you say bye.

Ah, he laughs. Yeah.

See, I know you so well, you half-joked, scrawling idle edits on the margins of his script.

He was already looking at you when you turned back to him, seeking his response, agreement, anything. When your eyes met, something caught at your chest—it tugged, tugged, then tugged again, a dull feeling burrowed deep in you. Words failed to wrench themselves free, but once they did, all you could manage was a faint—What?

Nothing. He smiled and shook his head, like he was waiting for you to figure it out. You know… sometimes, I wish I met you sooner. He does. He wishes he knew you back then, when you first learned Portugese. Or when you were in high school, so you could see just how exponentially awkward he was in his own teenage years. He thinks sometimes that he’s lost too much time, met and liked you too late.

Hm, you breathed out, because you didn't know what else to. I know why—so you could always have me. As a proofreader. Right?

Hah. The tilt of his laugh was high and mocking, and he stuck his tongue out, as if to punctuate that. He looked away then, like he wasn’t ready to say certain things to your face just yet. Quietly he added, Always have you… something like that.

—

If you ask Charles what he’s doing hiding in a laundry basket of a luxury hotel in São Paulo, he wouldn’t be able to answer you, either. It’s been some time since the disaster that was Caspergate Cancun 2023, and if he’s perfectly honest, he doesn’t feel like facing you again for the rest of his life. Pierre, of course, has other plans.

All he knows is last night, Pierre suggested he leave a huge vase of roses for you to arrive to in the living room of your hotel; as he planted it in said room, the door’s lock turned, and he sought a hiding place in the adjacent bedroom. Judging by the prevalent scent of Dior Sauvage, this is Lando Norris’ room.

Did u get to escape??? Pierre’s text irritates him. At the same time, the light flips on; Charles curls in on himself, remaining perfectly still. Lando’s voice trills through the room. “I didn’t leave those roses for either of you,” he’s saying to you and Lissie.

Charles hears you hum. “They’re so beautiful.” His heart swells. “I gotta run for a sec, pick up something from Will’s room.” A few seconds pass and the door opens and shuts, which means Charles is currently alone with Lando and Lissie. Which means he needs to plot his escape as soon as he can. Otherwise he’ll be caught in the crossfire and much too embarrassed to—

A foot meets his concealed body and he lets out an oof! as he’s sent flying out of the hamper, along with strewn-around clothes. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, scared shitless and in a fetal position; he only unfurls when a socked foot kicks at his ass. Above him are Lando and Lissie, both extremely confused.

“How did you know I was…?!” He asks, aghast.

“My fucking laundry was breathing, mate, s’not that hard to leave alone,” Lando retorts sharply. “What are you doing?!”

“I left roses for her,” he explains fruitlessly, gesturing to the vase outside. “But you came in, and this was the closest hiding place. I was told this would be a great gesture.”

“Right. Where did you even get that advice?” Lando tries to suppress the critical tone in his voice, but judging by Charles’ embarrassed grimace, he’s failed. Beside him, Lissie makes a hm? noise, goading Charles to answer quicker.

“I got it from.” Charles pauses. “A friend,” he ekes out vaguely.

“No shit. Who?”

“Um—” Charles’ eyes are shut. “Pierre.”

In unison, Lissie and Lando both release incredulous gasps, throwing their hands up in the air. Lissie points at the mess of clothes in the corner of the room to emphasize her point and asks loudly, with comical cynicism: “This seemed like proper romantic advice to you?”

“Scratch that. Pierre’s words seemed like proper romantic advice to you? His girlfriend is—!” Lando places a flat palm a few inches off the floor and shakes it a few times to insinuate Kika’s age, his disbelieving expression growing funnier by the second. “Mate!” His voice cracks mid-syllable, though even this mishap seems to be the least crazy thing about tonight.

Charles, burning with humiliation, releases a shaky sigh. “I know! I know!”

“You don’t know!” They shout simultaneously in response, disappointed if anything. Just then the door opens again and your two best friends hurry to throw assorted pieces of laundry on the lying Charles, exiting to make sure you don’t suspect anything.

“Hey,” you say slowly, because they’re both posed the exact same. “Am I… missing something?”

“A shower, girl,” Lando says, and you flip him off before retreating into your room.

Belatedly you ask, “Did you find out who sent those flowers?”

“Some loser, probably,” he calls right back. Charles emerges to poke him accusatorily, but Lando just shrugs. Charles definitely does not have the upper hand here, anyway.

“Just get out,” Lissie says, completely done with Charles’ antics. “And stop. Listening. To Pierre.”

He rinses the odor of laundry off him once he’s at his room, but thinks, despite himself, that you called the flowers beautiful.

—

Are you—

—no. I’m not. You wiped a hand over your face and caught mascara along with it. I’m fine, it’s fine.

What he said, it wasn’t…

I said, you turned to face him, eyes rimmed and mouth trembling. You didn’t finish your sentence, just tore the microphone off your lapel and buried your face in your hands. There was always going to be a first time. Your first time insulted on a live feed, after the Abu Dhabi weekend, was not any less shocking. You felt small. You felt humiliated.

You didn’t want to show Charles any of it. You moved around the green room, picking up shit to throw into your bag. Thank God the season was fucking over, you kept thinking. I feel so, you said, still failing to finish anything you started to say. You’d been called an annoying bitch by a fan of one of the drivers—to your face, as you exited the paddock.

He moved nearer. Charles, you said, a half-sob, and then you were allowing him to crash, allowing him to hug you. Your arms were weak when they wrapped back around him, linking softly in the small of his back. You sobbed hard into his chest until his grey tee was dark with tears. I want out, I just want out.

You’ll lord your career over that prick when you’ve made a million dollars doing this, he said. You do it too well to want out. You’re too smart. You’re too good. You cried harder, your face hurt and every word felt wrestled unintentionally, like it took too much work to say much at all. I’m sorry, you said. You should go.

No, he said. He held you closer. Not until you feel better.

—

He cries after Abu Dhabi. Bad season, everyone’s said. You snap a few smiling pictures with Max, who wins, and Lily and Lissie and the lot of them, the people who made the year so great. You notice an absence in all the pictures and you find it in a room in the Ferrari motorhome.

You’ve found you both find solace in words. In reassurance. But you’ve also found that your connection enables you both to reassure without having to say anything at all. You sit beside him, lean your head on his shaky shoulder, and wait.

“I was waiting for you to come,” he admits brokenly. “I was just not feeling good.”

“I know,” you respond. “It was a bad race. Shit strat.”

He’s quiet. His breaths are ragged and wet and shaky. “Will you stay? Until I feel better?”

You don’t move. “I’ll stay for longer.”

—

In the kitchen Charles unscrews himself a beer. The sky outside is pink and the sun hides behind faraway mountains, gradually darkening the entire atmosphere, save for the few woolly clouds. He’s by the patio door so he can spot people in the wide yard: Pierre, exchanging a Frisbee with Lando. Max, Alex, and Lissie engaged in an intense match of Uno.

They’re all gathered here in Spain at Carlos’ behest to celebrate the dawn of winter, and the end of the season, Max’s third championship.

He’s yet to spot you—he’d been told earlier you’d be late—but it doesn’t matter. He’s been feeling uncharacteristically himself all day anyway. He wrote that on his notebook this morning, on the flight here, verbatim. Looked up the word to spell it right and everything. He remembers you saying it, that time in London where you and Lando took him around and annihilated Borough Market before lounging on the grassy knoll of a nearby park. I feel so uncharacteristically happy, you’d joked. The syllables were too stunted and too fast for Charles to nail it. But he feels it now. Uncharacteristic.

He tells everyone he’s fine, though, and does a good job of it. Three beers in and he’s beginning to trick himself into thinking he actually is doing fine. Nobody suspects he’s been feeling empty from such a bad finish to the season—the season that was already bad in itself. He hasn’t been feeling his usual drive, his usual appetite. He doesn’t know when it will return.

“Here you are.” Carlos has this goofy smile on his face when he bounds into the kitchen, depositing empty dishes at the sink. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”

Charles and Carlos have always shared an easy dynamic—they’ve both always wanted the same thing. Racing has always been at the forefront of their minds. It makes conversation passionate, easy, fun; it was what helped build their now-natural rapport in the first place. “Yeah?” He prods, leaning against the counter and tipping fizz into his mouth.

“I invited everyone here to announce… something important.” Carlos crosses his arms. “But I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Me?” Charles knits his eyebrows and smiles. “Wow.” He gulps, cocks his head. “What is it, then? Are you switching teams?”

Carlos’ goofy smile grows. “Isa and I are engaged. I’m retiring next year.”

“You—you’re—” Charles laughs and shuts his eyes all at once. “Oh, my God, mate! Congratulations!” The overload of information isn’t lost on him, but he channels it all into a hug. “Are you really retiring, though? I mean. Wow, this is amazing news—but—”

“I was sure as soon as I asked,” Carlos says squarely, smiling as if he’s conjured an image of Isa’s smiling face (which is likely the case). “As soon as she said yes. As soon as I bought the ring!” He laughs aloud, so overwhelmed with happiness of recalling everything. “I’m so glad you were the first person I told.”

“Besides Lando,” Charles says, because he knows it’s true.

“Besides Lando.” Carlos smiles. “I’m… dios, I’m happy. I always knew I’d have something to look forward to after racing.” They hug again, and then he clambers past Charles and into the patio, where he resumes the façade of being unengaged and still a driver. Left behind, Charles thinks over it himself. What does he have to look forward to after racing? All his life, racing is all that ever existed to him.

The announcement comes eventually—when it’s dark out, intermittent stars white and twinkly against the black above. Charles has once again turned into a blushy mess because you arrived a few hours prior, wearing a lovely dress and with your hair down in messy waves and you said hi to him earlier without him approaching first. They present a stupid, but very Carlos-and-Isa ring-shaped cake to announce it, and somebody queues up music and everyone’s cheering. Of course everyone’s cheering—it’d be impossible for this announcement to not come with bouts of yelling and cheering and goodbyes to Carlos, who accepts them with glee and—dare he say—excitement.

Charles remembers their first year as teammates, the jokes they’d made about needing to beat the other out. For both of them, he recalls, it’s only ever been the drive to race. He didn’t think Carlos would even entertain the idea of retiring yet. He wonders when he will. The thought of it alone is enough to send a well of anxiety run deep into him—which happens after he congratulates the couple, so he excuses himself to the empty outdoors area to get fresh air back into him.

He didn’t mean it, but he finds you already there. “Hi,” you say when he slides the door shut. “You okay?”

“Just… yeah, I’m fine.” You smell faintly like smoke. “It’s crazy, huh. Everyone’s… moving on.”

“So Carlos told everyone, then,” you say, pursing your lips and waiting for his response. He closes his eyes and lets a soft exhale escape him, warm air out and fresh air in, a welcome change from the heady atmosphere in the party. “I knew. I bought that God awful cake. I kept saying get a normal one but they both wanted it to be shaped like a ring.” You punctuate your sentence with a crisp laugh, a stunted exhale of air to break the tension.

You have a natural sway over words, graceful and beautiful and commanding, something he only wishes he could be. For so long he’d been told the feedback loop of one and the same thing: you’re good. You’re the best. You’re going to be the next big thing. And this season had just… aggravated every single insecurity he’s picked up in his years of racing. He wishes sometimes he’d been told something else: you suck. You’re normal. You’re irrelevant. Then at least he wouldn’t exist in some odd panopticon of feeling on top of the world and yet looking at it from the bottom of a pitch black abyss.

“Yeah,” he says instead, wringing his hands. He mimics the wrist movements he’s made to do during gym hours. “It’s wild how—I mean, not really wild, but. I just can’t… even picture my life after racing.”

“You’re young, that’s warranted,” you laugh. “You’re also… I mean, even if you drop out of racing tonight, it’s not like you’re going to become dirt poor or anything. You could become a bloody orthodontist and people will still love you.”

“Will they?”

He didn’t mean to say it aloud but out it comes, garbled and rushed and he’s a bit embarrassed for sounding like a child in front of somebody he finds so beautiful. The silence is suspended and dry, and for a minute all he hears and feels is the slow rise and fall of his chest. To somehow mend the vulnerability, he tries again. “It’s not—I just think I’ll be lonely if I decide to stop racing.”

The fact that Carlos can say with so much ease that he’s willing to drop his career to ensure his pending marriage lasts is almost terrifying, because Charles knows he wants that. He knows—he’s always known—that he wants that intimacy, that realness, but for it to come at the cost of something he’s known for so long is so scary it’s almost a dealbreaker.

“Lonely?” You echo, voice tinged with concern. “Charles—”

“Lonely.”

He says it with an edge to his voice, so final, so steadfast. Loneliness is what he’s always feared and he knows, with a deep drawling punch to his gut, that loneliness is what will come if he decides to stop racing. Even if he’s tired. Even if he’s so pent up with frustration and loss and anger. Racing is all he’s ever known, it’s all he is—when he’s not tied to it, who is he? “Like no one… like I’m just standing in front of what I’m supposed to be, and when people see me, that’s all they see—what’s behind me. Right through me.”

“Well, you’re off racing right now,” you respond, trodding carefully. “So, well. Do you feel that way?”

He knows what you mean: it’s winter break, so he’s not driving or doing some form of it every single day. And he knows in turn what to answer: no, not really, he doesn’t really feel detached from it because there’s a low anticipation in his belly that tells him he’ll be doing it all again soon. But he chooses to interpret it differently; differently, but not falsely.

“I th… I don’t feel lonely,” he says, “when I talk to you. You see me.”

Your stomach drops and your heart begins to pulse a mile a minute, knuckles tightening where they’ve gripped onto the wooden post of the patio. You can feel the air in your lungs pass through every divot of your body as it escapes and arrives in long, shaky breaths. He’s looking at you, his eyebrows knitted like he wants—needs an answer, if you’d be kind enough to please give him one.

“I…” You bite your lip, every thought in your head at odds with the other.

Time feels like rubber, like it’s been stretched and manipulated and Carlos is ducking out to announce that it’s time to blow out candles on the stupid ring-shaped cake and you’ve taken too long to respond and your body feels too heavy but your heart feels too light and your eyes are blinking, open and shut and open again, and you feel like the wind could honestly blow you away now because Charles has given you a neutral nod and left you alone again, to contemplate the weight of what he’s finally, finally admitted, tonight here under the sky of Spain.

You move a hand over your hair, watch him walk away. The words lodge themselves in your throat, but they’re there.

—

One minute after you realized you liked Charles, you swallowed the feelings until they were barely decipherable.

In happened in Dublin, at a pub on St. Paddy’s Day, when you’d emerged fresh out of a breakup with the most arseholic Irishman you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. And funnily enough, it happened without Charles’ presence. You’d spent the day at Liam’s, hours of fighting over so many things—the growth of your career and the decimation of his, where your relationship had soured, why you never came to visit him, Charles, the sodding bloke you like so much—until finally, you took your things and left.

Wise, because you might’ve honestly gone insane if you stayed a minute longer, attuning your ears to the deafening feedback loop of his voice. Also decidedly unwise, because you had a piece of luggage and barely any battery, in a full city of people you didn’t know at all.

There was no chance Liam would let you return, and no chance you wanted to, for that matter—the fact still stood, though, that you needed to kill the night before your flight to France left at 6AM. You entered the first pub you heard, deposited your bag at the coat check for an extra couple of euros, and accepted the first pint thrust into your hand and first leprechaun hat plopped atop your head.

In between watching people compare how they poured Guinness pints, Sinead O’Connor songs, and exchanging headdresses with a random stranger, you found yourself impressingly drunk. The Irish did it too well.

A university student stumbled past your stool, tears in her eyes; she stopped to steal a shot of whiskey lying unattended on the bar. You looped a hand around her wrist and stared at her menacingly. Manners?!

Fuck manners, she said wetly, wrenching every word out with great effort. Nobody paid either of you any attention. I just caught my best friend and boyfriend kissing. Her accent was unmistakably Irish and was stronger with the tears.

Oh, you said, loosening your threatening grip. Sorry.

Don’t be. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid, she said, aghast, before finally stalking outside the pub. Half an hour later, you wound up at a table of thirty-somethings, all belting along to a folky sounding song.

Drunkenly you slurred out, I thought it was a stereotype.

What was, love? One of them paused her singing, dipping down to listen to you properly. Your cheek was smushed against the varnished wood, moving with every syllable you eked out.

The songs. You sound like… you belong in the 19th century.

She laughed at that, surfacing and yelling something to the band onstage you couldn’t quite decipher. The song reached its peak, loud and getting the whole crowd singing along, before fading into a familiar opening. S’this better? She asked, her voice slightly raised above the guitar.

You looked up. I liked the other one too, to be fair. M’not a fucking anti-Irish.

Nobody said that, love. Come sing. She hauled you upward, exaggerating her arm swinging in the air so you’d follow suit, which you did. You hummed the opening, eyes fluttering open and closed. You imagined opening them again and finding Charles across the room, already looking, with the same charming, boyish smile on his face that came to you as comfort.

You thought back to the dinner in London, the feeling of his shirt against your shoulder, the way he’d gotten you so easy and laughing and babbly, something you never got with Liam. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled raggedly. Fuck.

Linger’ll do that to you, your companion mused. Around you, the entire pub sang along to the song that served as the backdrop to your all-encompassing romantic epiphany. Missing a lover, huh?

No, just… You opened your eyes, watched the band sing out the rest of the prechorus before they slid into the next verse. A new kind of air had crept over the pub, one that exemplified just how much this song could mean to anyone, no matter who. You shut them again and saw Charles. The green of his eyes, mossy on some days and bright on others. The moles on his face. The grooves of his hand, the way it wrapped around things like pens, mics, bottles, your fingers. His voice, how he curved around words. He always knew exactly what you meant even if it took you ages to get to the point, even if you felt like you didn’t know what you meant exactly.

You opened your eyes. Suddenly fights with Liam didn’t matter. Whatever little sympathy you had left evaporated as you listened to the lyrics and realized, with a damning force, that you were thinking of Charles. And this was not weak, this was not vague, this was a strong thing that took you off your feet like a gust of wind, hurtling you out of the pub. You thought of every time your eyes met his, both of you already laughing at something else present. Every time he saw you at the end of a busy work day and asked if you were doing alright.

Just this guy, I suppose. His name’s… yeah. We’ve been friends for ages. He’s really very talented. Very kind. Your voice was drowned out by the music but you didn’t intend for anything to be heard, anyway. And he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He always knows what to say. He’s not in Dublin tonight, not even in Ireland, for God’s sake.

He’s your boyfriend, then?

You closed them slowly. No. T’wouldn’t be very smart to date him.

Is he an arse?

No either. It’s just too late.

I’m sorry, love.

Don’t be, you mused, eyes still shut as Linger came to a close. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid.

—

Charles should be in Monaco. You should be in London. But at four-thirty PM, leaning against the counter of a tiny café in Dublin, you cross paths for the first time in weeks, and everything tilts on its axis.

He notices you first, because he hears you thank the barista quietly. It’s not your reporter voice, not the one you put one when you’re interviewing him or his teammate or his fellow athletes. But it’s your real one, and it’s the one he thinks he could hear through a snowstorm.

A tuxedo-clad man exits and suddenly you’re there. You’re wearing a white top, low neck and thin straps covered by a cardigan. You’re sliding coins into the pocket of your jeans and he watches your hand freeze, drags his eyes back up to you, finds you’re already looking.

You look beautiful, he thinks. You put on a lot of makeup for the cameras, and you looked gorgeous, but seeing you like this—caught, almost, in a moment you didn’t expect to see him—you look unbelievably beautiful. He aches with it.

“You look well,” he says first when he opens the café door for you. “What’s your business in Ireland?”

“Acquainting myself with my new coworker.” You wait for him to follow and squint when the sun hits your eye. “We’ve been here three weeks, fly back to London next Monday. You?”

“It does seem weird for me to be here,” he observes absently. “I needed a change of pace, I think. Gear up for the season.” He shakes his half-full cup of coffee. “Where are you staying?”

“Just up ahead.” A slow silence overcomes you both. “Come over. I have beer. I know you can’t be fucked to have coffee.” He laughs and nods, following you through the road and up into a flat—a BNB, if he’s guessing. There’s a tiny landing and then stairs to a wider living area, where you proceed to unwrap the croissant you’d gotten a few minutes earlier. You chuck it into the fridge and produce two bottles of beer in one go.

“Sit,” you gesture to the spot beside you, and he sits himself there. “We can talk. We should.”

You’ve shrugged your cardigan off, and he observes every detail of your exposed skin, the way your hair layers atop it. Right as he opens his mouth to respond, a blond girl enters, rings of mascara caking her eyes and a wine glass twiddled in-between thumbs. She’s talking her head off and only pauses when she spots Charles.

“Hhhh…iiii.”

“Salut.”

“You’re Charles?” She notices how close the two of you are seated together.

“Yes,” he says.

“Charles, this is Robyn—my coworker’s friend. And by extension my friend.” You pat her knee and point to Charles to get them properly introduced. “She leeches off the apartment.”

“You love me,” she retorts, mockingly—but sweetly. “Anyway, sorry to intrude. I was just on the phone with my situationship.” She rolls her eyes. “Does he think I give two shits about goodnight texts? It feels impossible to be romantically satisfied these days.”

Charles grunts. “I hear that,” he says, just to make Robyn feel less excluded. You get up then, to fuck around at the kitchen sink—he suspects you’re not actually doing chores—but you come back with wet hands and you sit yourself across Charles, on the loveseat, instead of next to him.

“The thing is, right,” she gulps wine, “there’s such a thing with dating now,” Robyn says, not missing a beat, her Geordie accent curving round the syllables with a distinctive twang. She stares at the opaque red liquid in her glass, like that will supplement her with more words. “Like a deal. A big deal. Everyone’s making this huge thing out of it, and it’s like, can’t we be in our twenties and fuck around occasionally?” She laughs, a high-pitched, tapered noise.

You shift from where you’re seated, buried into the material of the seat. It’s quiet and beginning to touch awkward, so you speak in a rough voice: “I dunno, I kind of… get it.”

“Oh do you, now,” she responds, voice saturated with wine. “No, it’s—I was joking. Of course you would, you’re absolutely fucking gorgeous, is all.”

Suddenly you feel all too seen and inclined to touch a fingertip to your cheek, feather light. You blink so you won’t feel tempted to meet Charles’ eyes, because you feel them on you. “It’s—thank you, I mean. It’s nothing to do with that. I just always feel it’s impossible to find someone who loves you. I feel like I’m not very lovable.”

“You? You’re bloody fucking likable!” Robyn’s laugh is so disbelieving you find yourself semi-convinced. “You’re a bit intimidating, yeah, but you’re lovable as fuck, babe.”

You double down anyway, voice thin. “Right. I don’t think I’m very good at being… affectionate.”

“Hah. Bull. You’re affectionate with… with Charles! I’ve heard you talk about him to Jane.”

She turns to Charles before you have the chance to defend yourself. To him she asks: “Is she affectionate with you?”

But it’s basically rhetorical. Everyone speculates, sees the way you two bend the line between friendship and romance, the care with which you treat Charles, the way you two understand each other in ways impossible for anyone else in your orbit. Fuck if it’s not overtly physical. Robyn’s known you three weeks and has never even met Charles until seven minutes ago and already she’s sensed the energy, the difference, even if she hasn’t seen you do so much as embrace.

“It’s—” You say and say too quickly. You wind up slowing your speech so you don’t sound too defiant and lean backwards, willing yourself to relax. “It’s… different with Charles.”

“Different?” She repeats, miming every dip and rise of your voice. “Why?”

“We’re close.” You refuse to meet his eyes. “Be—because we’re good friends. I feel… things are… just. They’re different. That’s all, really.” Barely satisfied with the answer you eked out, you cross your arms over your torso like it’ll help shield you from the interrogation going on. Briefly you let your eyes fall on Charles; he’s reclined, eyes all over the place, blinking in quick flashes.

“But you admit it, at least?” She smiles. “That you’re affectionate, I mean.”

“Only with…” you taper off, unwanting to dig yourself a deeper hole. “Right. Sure, yeah.”

“Well then,” she says, eyebrows raising as she dows the rest of her glass. She sets it down on the low wooden table with a clink. “I’ll get going. Don’t let me keep you two from shagging or whatever.”

“We don’t f—shag,” you interrupt, voice sharp. “And you’re not keeping us at all. Me, at all.”

Us sounds so exclusive, you realize as it leaves your lips. Us. It tastes like sour cherries on your tongue, bleeds all over. Robyn gives you a look. In response, you insist on seeing her out, leaving Charles at the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands toying with the neck of the beer bottle. He can make out faint words but he doesn’t try translating or deciphering them, just listens to your muffled voice peek through every few words. You sound amused, also accused, also endeared—a bit irritated. You end it with a laugh.

You clamber back in after a few minutes and find him at the top of the stairs.

“Sorry,” you wave off, rolling your eyes to fend Robyn’s earlier interrogation efforts of. “She’s very strong-willed.” You climb the stairs, your striped linen shorts folding with every movement of your legs. Finally you make it to the top, on the second-to-the-last stair, staring up at him.

“You know,” he says, watching you ascend to the top finally, but you’re still staring upward. “You should know.”

“Should know what?”

“I missed you.”

You inhale and are grateful to find the air is all him. “I missed you, too.”

“In a different way.”

“Me, too,” you echo again, voice quiet. “I missed you. It feels like I’ve missed you all my life.”

He can hear your still, controlled breathing. “Thank you for seeing me. Even when, you know, it’s… hard. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you say. “It’s never difficult, not…” With you.

He leans down and captures your mouth in his then, like it’s a thirst he’s always needed quenched. You allow it, kiss him back like you’ve needed this your entire life. His lips are chapped, but you don’t mind—Dublin’s cold. He kisses like he’s smiling, like he’s happy, and you think maybe that’s not far off. He moves downward, to your jaw; lower, along the column of your throat, around your collarbones, cornering you against the wall, letting you lean against it.

Charles’ kisses are light and soft, but also heavy, like he’s trying to waste as little time as possible. You sigh, feeling light, feeling ecstatic. He puts two hands on either side of your face, presses your foreheads together, and shuts his eyes.

You feel the divots of his fingers on your hip, your waist, places he’s never touched before. “I’m sorry I left,” you breathe into him. “Back in Spain. In Madrid. I wanted to think about it. About what you said. About everything, about you.”

“I’m glad I found you here, then.”

You tiptoe to kiss him again, because now that you’ve had it once you’re terrified you won’t have it again. In-between kisses he picks you up, cages you fully against the wall, and you breathe shaky little exhales. It builds up quicker and harder; you feel his cock at your hip and shiver, eyelashes fluttering. “Upstairs,” you say breathlessly.

He likes knowing you want this, because he’ll give you whatever you want. He’d fuck you for hours. Have you shaking, eking out moans of his name. He’d whisper praise up and down your ear. He wants this just as much, if not more.

“I want you, so much,” you exhale when he lies you both down on your bed. “So much.”

He tugs your shorts off, then your panties. He doesn’t usually lack self-restraint, but he thinks he’s never felt this much temptation in his life. He’s so hard. He brings one hand to his thigh and squeezes his dick through his pants, but it doesn’t provide him with any kind of relief. You’re needy already, whimpering, mind dizzy. He slides a finger up your slit and watches you screw your eyes shut.

Slowly he sinks in, watches you accustom to the stretch. “Wanted this,” you breathe out.

He thrusts in further, feels your warm cunt stretch around him, feels your breaths get hotter and quicker against his lips. But he takes it nice and slow, so he can feel every little ridge inside of you as you take all of him. “You like it?”

You nod, too dumbed down to speak. “Good girl. Pretty, pretty girl.”

He’s wanted this for so long, fucking you deep and slow and desperate. He thrusts harder, watches you unravel and your hot breaths pick up in pace. He reaches down, smears wetness around your clit as your thighs begin to shake. Your pretty, flushed face is enough to send him into overdrive, your eyes rolling back as he goads you into orgasm.

You’re still cumming around him when he takes a shaky breath, pulls you tightly back against him, and lets the pleasure take over. He fucks you full, rides his orgasm out while you ride yours out—buries his dick all the way inside, so each spurt fills your contracting pussy up.

He pulls out and collapses beside you, pressing his lips to your shoulder before lying on his back. “I’ll clean you up in a minute.” It’s quiet for a second, just you two breathing.

Then: “I did, I did think about it,” you say, voice reedy. “I thought about you.”

“Yeah?” He watches you blink at the ceiling, lets you clasp your hands onto his.

“About me, too.” You open your eyes and stare into the green.

“D’you want this?”

“Believe me,” you say, threading your fingers into his tightly. Your hair’s fussed from the sex. “I do. But—”

His heart drops.

“I don’t want to… I want you to not…” You sigh. “You know, I like seeing you. I like being that. I like knowing I make you feel good. And I want you to know you… you make me feel amazing. Like you and I… we understand each other.” You pause. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who understands every inch of me.”

“Ditto,” he says, and you smile.

“I look up to you, you know? I don’t want you to anchor yourself onto me. I want you to realize that on your own. You’re smart. You’re a great driver with a shitty fucking team I hated reporting on last season.” He laughs shakily. “You know I look up to you. You know… you know I love you.”

“I do. I love you.”

“I always have. It wasn’t… it didn’t always make itself clear, but I always have. And I know I always will.” You smile. “We’ll be in different cities, in separate timezones, but if we survived the years of not telling each other how bloody fucking much we liked each other, this is nothing. When we’ve sorted ourselves out, we’ll know the right time to finally call this what it is.”

He’s never thought of himself as a writer, but his notebooks might beg to differ. Many times you’ve told him yourself that he has an affinity for describing things, especially when he lets go of language as a limitation. He wonders what you’d say if you knew the amount of times he’s tried to write about you. Careful letters or typefaces, in an effort to form a coherent picture of you, the way he sees you, the way he loves you. But he’s so scared he tears the pages off before they get too intimate, too personal, crossing the border from having a crush on you to being in love with you.

For once he’s not. He nods. It’s bittersweet, but it’s a segue to a better ending. He moves a hand over your hair and holds you close.

“You could never be unlovable,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead because finally, he can. “I mean it.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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transformers-synergize · 4 months

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Do you have any more stuff for Sunny & Sides? Your designs for them are some of the best I've seen, and I'd love to know more about your plans or headcanons for them!

No pressure ofc, I support you and your absolute galaxy brain :D

Sure, here is a bunch of random stuff about in no particular order, lot of this stuff was just pulled from my notes but whatever lol

Sunstreaker is egotistical, he knows he is the best and makes sure everyone knows it too. He also has the skills, looks, and combat prowess to back it up. Sunstreaker only really cares about himself and Sideswipe, considering pretty much every bots below him or not worth his time. He often makes sly comments, belittling or cracking jokes about bots whom he deems lesser. His friends are either Sideswipes friends who can tolerate him or bots who think he's cool, which is usually due to factors outside his personality. He's always down for a good fight, being ruthless and downright merciless in combat while still somehow managing to get as little dirt, energon, or other various combat filth on himself as possible, sometimes being nearly spotless after a battle aside from the energon coating his blade. Sunny likes to keep himself in good condition, making sure his paint is perfect and his polish shines, it really helps accentuate how he's the best.

Sideswipe is the nicer of the two brothers. He's outgoing and usually pretty friendly. Sideswipes is always looking for a fight. He loves the thrill of combat. He often treats serious situations more like a game than the high-danger situations he often places in. Sideswipe often can't sit still and always need something to do, and if there is nothing fun to do then he will make his own fun, he is often sparring with his fellow Autobots, trying risky stunts, pulling pranks on other bots and generally just causing chaos. He's very impulsive, often doing the first thing that comes to mind because he thought it might be fun, never considering the consequences. He's kinda like a jock who treats war like a sport with an almost ruthless approach to combat. He often tenses and banter with other autobots, sometimes making jokes at their expense, but unlike Sunny, he usually knows when to stop or when he's gone too far.

info dump bellow↓↓↓

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both emerged during the Autobot Decepticon war and never known peace times. They are the youngest of the crashed Autobots, both being around a thousand years old, which is very young when your species can live to their hundred thousands.

Twins are what happens when a shuttle-sized spark splits into two, so before Sideswipe and Sunstreaker split, their emerging was highly anticipated because shuttles are rare and extremely powerful, but their spark ended up splitting. When they finally emerged, it was a great disappointment.

they were mentored by Inferno and, to a lesser extent, his conjux Redalert (they are one of the many reasons for Redalerts anxiety). Sideswipe has a pretty good relationship with his mentors Sunny… not so much

Sunny hates Earth, it's filthy it's wet it's squishy it's sticky it's too hot, at least compared to Cybertron's frigid temperatures, and its dominant species are nothing but a pain he hates he has to hide his existence from the stupid inferior fleshy creatures that rule this dirtball of a planet he hates how often on missions he has to have a fleshy human chaperone to perform basic task that he could easily do himself or wouldn't be a problem if humans just didn't exist. Whichever bot or bots are on a mission with Sunny where human help is required, the other bot will always be the one transporting the human because Sunny refuses to let a human inside of him.

Sideswipe likes Earth, there so much to see it his first time being anywhere without the war consent looming present of the great war, but having to hide all the time on Earth is frustrating, he's been able to seek out and do some street races without Prowl knowing, he likes quite a lot of human stuff human music is pretty good and he like some human tv shows and movies mostly the ones with a lot of actions and explosion, he like interacting with the humans he's allowed to interact with especially Carly and Raoul, thought Sideswipe often struggles to understand how fragile humans are and often can put them at risk without even knowing it. Sideswipe is still a little homesick for Cybertron, even if he's only ever known it as a war-torn mess.

their poses often mirror each other

Sunny tells Sideswipe to smile with his mouth closed because his split beak.

Sunny is the decision-maker of the two, and though Sideswipe may make destinations for himself on his own as a pair, Sunny always has the final say.

Sunstreaker hates Sideswipe stickers but gave up on trying to remove them because whenever he tried, he got his claws sticky.

Sunstreaker and Tracks have a bit of a rivalry going on, though Tracks hates Sunstreaker more than Sunstreaker dislikes Tracks. Also, Sunny usually comes out as the victor of most of their little spats.

Sideswipe pulls pranks but doesn't dare prank Sunstreaker because he knows there will be hell to pay if he messes up his brother's paint job.

sideswipe loves to cause chaos, Sunny often help

Sunny has some artistic talent, though he doesn't use it much

Sunstreaker always makes sure his frame is clean and in near-perfect condition. Sideswipe doesn't care as much but Sunny, make sure Sideswipe keeps up to a certain standard.

Sideswipe is very extroverted, loves interacting with other bots, and will talk to basically anyone. Sunny is more introverted and prefers to keep to himself and select bots. Sunny tries to encourage his brother not to hang out with bots he considers not good enough to be associated with them which is most bots.

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

As for plans for them, I like keeping what I share plot-wise pretty vague. They appear pretty early on, and they both are pretty plot-important. I don't really care about spoiling characters who appear in the first seven chapters. After that, I'm a little more sneaky and vague about who will appear.

#Sunstreaker #sideswipe #raoul #dont tag as ship #transformers fan continuity #transformers #tfs #transformers synergize #art post #ask answering #sunny #raoul lopez #sunstreaker is pretty controlling #his brothers images is a part of his image or atleast thats how sunny sees it #yes i call their teeth beaks instead of denta since the top and bottom pice are solid pieces without Individualt teeth #cybertronian have beaks kinda like squids #sideswipe naturally formed with a split beak #thank you happy ya like them so much #realized i left one my draft notes on here asaaaaa

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theosmommy1966 · 4 months

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Unfair Love

Your fingers were cramping from how hard you were holding the door. Your eyes mad to be deceiving you, Regulus fucking Black cant be standing in front of you. The guy you loved from the simply age of 5 all the way until the end of school. He had been your best friend, the guy you pined over for years and years while he pushed you aside every time he got a girlfriend. Only to suck you right back in when he got bored.

“No..” You said moving to close the door to your brother's manor. Tom, Mattheo and You were triplets. Magical beings already formed crazy connections but the three of you could literally feel each other and each other's major feelings. So the shock and pain of seeing Regulus had pulled them from the upstairs living room to the top of the stairs. Leaning against opposite walls, Tom positions so he could see down the stairs easily keeping an eye on you while being positioned in a way to be easily overlooked.

When Regulus pushed his way in, it took everything in both of them to stay put but your voice stopped them. “Tom is home. If that's not bad enough, so is Mattheo. Do not come any further into my home Regulus.” Regulus paused just inside the door, while he had been friends with both boys in school. He also knew they were fiercely protective of their ‘baby’ sister. They would kill each other if the other hurt her, so they would easily Avada him if he pushed to hard.

“Y/n.. Dont marry him.” He said in a nonchalant tone. Acting like he wasnt rocking her world and trying to crumble her relationship to pieces. “ Regulus.. Your being a dick.” You said unconsciously stepping towards the stairs and pulling your hands up to your chest. He stepped towards you and smiled in a cocky way that made you want to slap him “Come on y/n/n, you know you its always been me.. Dont marry him.”

Those words sparked anger in your gut.

Stepping towards him this time you sneer. “I was second to every single girl that even looked your way in school! You literally asked me to the yule ball and then FORGOT and went with some girl from Ravenclaw! I cant.. I wont.. I.. I..” It felt like a let down to your last name when that spark died and never turned into a fire as you started to almost hyperventilate. Every time he broke your heart played through your head as his eyes flicked above your head.

You didnt need to turn around to know your brothers were coming down. Mattheo was past you quickly, having moved before your breathing even got uneven. Tom wasnt as familiar with panic and anxiety attacks as you and he were. He didnt stop to comfort you as he grabbed his old friend harshly and jerked him out the door. He didnt slam it on his way out knowing that would just startle you and make it worse.

Tom had always for some reason been the one you went to for comfort. You thought it was probably just because he was the ‘oldest’. He was the one who retucked you into bed when you had bad dreams even though he was the same age. He had always just carried himself in a way that gave big brother vibes. Every where you went people thought you and Matt were twins and Tom was the older brother.

He would always have a hard time dealing with others feelings but he always made the most effort for his siblings. When you collapsed onto the stairs and started sobbing he moved the rest of the way to you quickly. He tries to get you to calm your breathing but its like you cant hear him. He does the only thing he knows too, the same thing he use to do when you were children and he couldnt wake you from a nightmare. Pressing his forehead to yours he gently entered your mind. it was easy to find you in panic because when all the thoughts finally formed into a picture you were stood frozen while everything moved around you.

Him saying your name broke your focus as you turned confused then relieved to see him. “Tommy” You said in a broken whisper as he reached for you, tucking your head against his shoulder and hugging you he looked around. “Lets walk through all this, yeah?” Nodding against his chest “I just feel so much right now.. Im so mad at Regulus. Ive tried my entire life to be what he wants, to be someone he sees but he never did. I was just someone to placate his ego in between relationships.”

Tom watches as memories of you crying, of Regulus manipulating you and leaving flash around him and he squeezes tighter. “He hasnt spoken t-to me in years and then he just shows up here the night before Im supposed to get married?!” You sob and then suck in a harsh breath “Oh my god. Teddy.. Whats he going to think when he finds out I was crying over another man when im supposed to be relaxing and getting ready to marry him!”

You pull away and pull out of your head and then away from Tom in the real world. Standing you start to pace and pull at your hair. Tom sighs and stands to try and stop you but the door flies open. Mattheo running in frantically looking for you, only to be shoved out of the way by your tall sandy blond fiancee. “Tesoro” He barley whispers as he rushes to pull you into his arms. Your knees giving out again but he keeps you up. His huge hand cups the back of your head and neck as he shushes you gently.

Theo swears his heart is breaking as your shoulders rack with sobs. He turns to look at his other best friends, Tom is staring at the door, clearing pissed and trying to stay put. Mattheo is pulling at his own hair when he sees the questions in his friends eyes. Hes struggling because he wants to tell him so he can better comfort you, but he doesnt want to betray your trust. Thankfully he doesnt have to, you can feel his panic and pull away just enough too look up. “Regulus was here.”

Theos head snaps back to you and he tries to reign in his feelings quickly knowing that they will all play out on his face. His first feeling was worry, he had worked so hard to show you how you should actually be treated. So many dates where he couldnt even hold your hand yet. Regulus had treated you so poorly from day one that his nontoxic love was foreign and unwelcome.

You had grown up in vastly different environments. Birthing triplets had killed your mother. While your father wasn't horrible or abusive, he was unattentive. He would rather you have a nanny (who he sleeps with before replacing and repeating) then try and raise you alone. While Theo grew up with parents who not only loved him but each other.

Next was anger at the audacity. Then was worry again but this time for you. Taking a deep breath and taking your cheek in one hand he wipes your tears away. “Ok, tell me why your so upset by that. We have to be on the same page to talk through this. Can we go sit down?” you shake your head and pull him up the stairs, away from your brothers to your room. You let go of his hand and keep walking straight for your bathroom.

After a few mintues long arms wrapped around you, crossing over and gripping your upper arms. “Im here, Tesoro. Whenever your ready.” You didnt register any measure of time as you stood under the water with him holding you and pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder. “I dont deserve you theo..” you say so quietly he almost doesnt hear. Before he can ask what you mean your already speaking. “Here I am, the night before marrying you, crying over some other guy.. God im so horrible.”

Before your hands can cover your face, Theo has spun you around and is tilting your face forcing you to look at him. He looks just a little annoyed as he speaks, “Dont say that. Do you remember what Tesoro means?” You sniffle and nod but he raises his eyebrows waiting for you to say it. “It means treasure.” He nods and smiles just a little “So.. My Tesoro couldnt be horrible.. I get it darling.. He was your first love, theres a lot of trauma there. I know your not crying because you miss him, your crying for 17 year old you, for 15 year old you and so on. And thats ok, because thats how we heal.”

Theos heart warmed as you stare up at him in awe. “I know its difficult for you, my love. That this open communication and understanding isnt something that comes naturally too you. So youll have to give me just a little grace while I continue to learn to navigate you. I promise one day Ill be an expert.” He leans in and kisses your forehead, staying there for just a moment to give you both a second to pull yourselves together.

When he pulled back the smile he loves was back on your face. He sighs happily and kisses your nose before looking at you. Everything was right in his world again, all he needed to do now, was wait for you to go to sleep. Because Regulus.. Well Theo completely understood where YOU were coming from. But Black? Nah. While tending to lean towards his mothers Hufflepuff nature, sometimes he needs to remind people why he was sorted into Slytherin. Why he became friends with The Dark Lords children. Why he and your brothers trusted him to care for you. And tonight, it would be Regulus` turn to learn.

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott xreader #theodore nott #slytherin #slytherinboys #theo nott #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott imagine #theo nott x you

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silverwingxox · 2 months

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I Am Yours - Harwin Strong

Paring : Harwin Strong x Targaryen!Reader

Summary : After the wedding of your sister Rhaenyra to Leanor Velaryon, your father has been breathing down your neck about you finding a suitable husband. You turn to seek comfort in your sworn sword.

Warnings : 18+, MDNI, SMUT, P in V, Oral (Fem R), throat grabbing, talks of arranged marriage.

“I swear, if I have to look upon one more fat lord old enough to be our father then I'll feed him to Vermithor.” You mumbled to your elder sister as she came and stood by your side, linking her arm with yours. Rhaenyra chuckled as she looked over the poor gathering of men who had come to seek your hand in marriage. “I will admit these aren’t the most handsome bunch.” You sighed as your (e/c) eyes looked around the room, trying to see if any of the wanting lords had potential. “I never got to thank you by the way..” You grumbled to Rhaenyra. Since her wedding to Laenor Velaryon, your father, The King has been breathing down your neck about finding a suitable suitor.

You and Rhaenyra had always been close, there being only a two year age gap between yourselves, you were practically best friends, always sneaking into each other's chamber’s at night to gossip about the handsome lords at court or to gossip about the snooty ladies trying to woo said lords. People called your sister ‘The Realm’s Delight.’ and due to your beautiful appearance, you had earned the nickname ‘Queen of Beauty.’ It had been said you rivaled your great aunt Viserra when it came to looks.

Your silver hair cascaded in lovely curls, whereas Rhaynera’s hair fell straight. Your eyes wide and sparkling, as though they reflected the night’s moon, a small button nose and lovely plump lips. You were simply beautiful. You had heard stories created by the common folk, claiming you to be a goddess, the maiden herself. Stories you laughed at, as ironically, you had lost your maiden head a good while ago.

“Sister, I apologize profoundly.” Rhaenyra apologized with a grin, rolling your eyes at your sister playfully. “As I love you dearly, I will let you off.” You turned to your sworn sword, Ser Harwin Strong, finding his blue eyes already on you. “I am done for the day. Please escort me to my chambers.” The tall, strong knight bowed his head to you. “Yes Princess.” As you turned on your heel and headed towards the exit of the throne room you heard your sister tell the lords to return tomorrow as you had tired yourself, causing you to snicker.

You walked to your chambers, Harwin merely two steps behind you, nodding your head politely at the lords and ladies who would greet you and step aside with a bow of their heads. “Did any of the lords strike you as husband material?” You asked your close companion, turning to head to look at the Strong man. Harwin scoffed, his brown curls bouncing with each step he took. “None of them, I would deem worthy to wed to Realm’s Beauty, Princess.” He spoke teasingly, a smile on his handsome face. Your eyes met his, a beautiful smile graced your face. “With words like that I will have to release you from your duties and take you as my lord husband.” you teased your sworn sword.

Harwin had been your personal guard for almost a year, you could admit he had taken your fancy when you first met him, he was like no other lord at court. He was tall, kind, handsome, strong, deserving of his surname. Although he was kind, he could be cruel to anyone who had crossed you, he was a fearsome fighter, earning himself the nickname ‘Harwin Breakbones.’ It was only shortly after he became your sworn sword when the stolen glances, lingering touches and the flirting began, you knew you wanted him and you knew he wanted you. However, it was forbidden, Harwin had sworn an oath.

“It would be a great honor, Princess.” Harwin replied as you walked the hall towards the large oak doors leading into your personal chambers. “Did you know my father is going to wed me to one of the Lannister twins? If I don't pick myself that is.” You told Harwin as he opened the door to your bed chamber, you walked inside towards the floor length mirror. You began to take out the gold hair pins, your curly silver hair falling down your back, just above the curve of your bum, you left your door open, inviting Harwin inside.

The knight closed the door behind him softly, before he turned to face you, standing guard in front of the wooden oak door. “The Lannister twins? That is unfortunate, both are obnoxious fuckers.” Harwin stated with distaste, he couldn’t stand the thought of you marrying anybody, not that he’d say it aloud, but the thought of you marrying Tyland or Jason Lannister brought a sick sensation in the pit of his stomach.

You laughed at Harwin’s words, he wasn’t wrong. Both brother’s were known for being obnoxious and in love with themselves. “They’d be in love with themselves more than they would me.” You replied with a grin as you ran your fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp. Harwin watched you intensely and found himself wishing it was his fingers running through your long curly hair instead of your own. “Any man would be a fool not to love you Princess.” Harwin stated, his words lingered in the air as you turned to look at the man, a warm sensation had taken over your stomach as you played over his words. Upon hearing no reply, Harwin stood tall. “Forgive me, Princess. That was inappropriate.” You ran your tongue over your bottom lip softly, before you walked over to your knight.

“Do you mean it?” You asked quietly, Harwin had remained rooted in his spot, having no desire to move. “I do.” You were now standing directly in front of him, you noticed his eyes looking your body up and down, before his gaze fell to your plump lips, after a few seconds, Harwin brought his gaze up to meet your sparkling eyes. “Would you love me? If you were my husband.” You asked.

“I would worship you.” You saw Harwin’s eyes darkened with lust as he thought of having you as his lady wife, your stomach round with his child, your breasts full. The sweet moans which would come from your mouth, the same noises he had heard come from behind your door when he’d stand guard on the night time, as you pleasured yourself whilst thinking of him. You brought Harwin back to the present, as you stood on your tiptoes, your hands resting on the cold armor, Harwin brought his head down, his lips meeting your soft plump lips in a forbidden gentle kiss, one of his hands held your waist gently and the other held your neck. Harwin pulled away slowly, the two of you locked eyes, both wanting this. Before you knew it, Harwin had brought his lips back to yours, the kiss rough and wanting, His hands gripped tightly at your waist, you were sure you would have his fingerprints imprinted into your soft pale skin on the morrow.

Your hands reached up and tangled themselves in Harwin’s curly locks, his lips made their way to your neck, kissing and sucking the skin. A moan escaped your lips at the sensation, you had often wondered what this moment would be like, feeling Harwin’s hands all over his body, how his lips would feel against your own. Harwin’s lips once again found yours as his hands grabbed your arse, before they slid down the back of your legs, pulling you up, your legs wrapped around Harwin’s waist as he walked towards your awaiting bed, your lips battling for dominance.

Without any effort, Harwin pulled at the lace on the back of your dress, the fabric falling loose, your breasts falling loose. You moved your hands from Harwin’s hair to the back of him, unhooking the white cape that was attached to the back of his armor. Harwin placed you down gently, kissing your neck as he did so, before standing tall and ridding himself of his armor. You lifted your arse from the bed and pulled the red soft fabric down, once the dress was off you threw it on the floor somewhere, Harwin’s eyes trailed over your body as he removed his trousers. “You really are a Goddess.” He said in disbelief, he couldn't believe his luck and would be pinching himself to wake up for years to come.

Looking at Harwin, you took in every inch of his body, looking at his hard member, you were sure there were two reasons he was nicknamed ‘Breakbones.’ You licked your lips nervously, you had lost your maidenhead a while ago, it was a feast in honor of your sister’s name day, you and Gwayne Hightower had stolen a barrel of Dornish Wine from the kitchen, you had taken him to the Dragon pit to meet Vermithor, Afterwards, the two of you hid in an empty room, drinking and laughing and before you both knew it, you were fucking on the cold hard stone.

Harwin placed a hand on each one of your knees and opened your legs wide, making room for him to crawl between, his lips pressed against your forehead before lovingly pressing a kiss on each cheek, then the tip of your nose, then your lips, then he brought his lips to your neck, before playfully biting at the soft flesh. Gasping at the sensation, your hands pulled at the hair at the top of his neck, causing the knight to release a deep groan.

The noise sent wetness straight to your clit. Harwin pressed kisses between the valley of your breasts and continued his trail, moving down the bed, he wrapped his arms under your thighs, putting them over his shoulders, he pressed two wet kisses to each of your thighs before he looked up at you, it was a sight to behold, his dark curls messy, his eyes dark.

The sight of Ser Harwin Strong between your thighs would forever be etched into your mind. “I need your words Princess.” Harwin said, the warmth of his breath hit your heat, causing you to shiver. “Please Harwin, please.” You practically whined, Harwin let out a breathy laugh as you begged. Without warning, He licks against your cunt hungrily, noisy slurps as he lapped you up, squeezing less than gentle at the inside of your thighs as they shook, his tongue swiping over your clit, a broken moan slipping past your lips, “let me hear you princess.”

Harwin’s fingers joined his tongue as they entered and pressed against the soft but sensitive spot inside you, your hands tugging at Harwin’s hair once more. “Harwin..” you whined, the knight not slowing his pace as he thoroughly wanted to remember this moment forever. Your hand wrapped round Harwin’s wrist between your legs as you felt your end come close. You could feel his broad shoulders flexing as he used his strength to keep you in place. Licking up all the fluids that leak out of you. Harwin rose with haste and wraps a gentle hand around the back of your neck before pulling you upright quickly.

Harwin slips inside you and moves his hand so that he is gripping your throat as he snaps his hips into you firmly, groaning sinfully into the side of your neck, squeezing your neck a little tighter with each delightful noise you made. You loved it, this was nothing like how it had been with Gwayne, this was hot, passionate, rough. You forced your hips to meet Harwin’s thrusts. His groans got louder, more animalistic. Both of you meet the thrust of each other, causing utter bliss, You both make a steady rhythm, Harwin’s thrusts hitting a spot deep inside you, your (e/c) eyes roll to the back of your head, it’s pure pleasure, you moan loudly, Harwin’s trying to holdback, restraining himself, savoring every moment as he doesn’t know if this will be his only chance to see you come undone.

“Harder Harwin, please. I can take it.” You beg him, your nails scratching their way down his back, your legs wrapped around his hips. “I want it.” Harwin lets out a large groan at your words, picking up the speed of his thrusts, the headboard of the bed banging loudly against the stone wall. You moaned as you felt the knot in your stomach release at the new speed and deep thrusts, your walls clenched around Harwin’s cock, causing the man to shut his eyes tight. “Fuck.” Harwin growled, his forehead rests on yours, his curls wet from the sweat.

“You take my cock so good, Princess.” He groans as you move your hand down rubbing your clit, adding extra friction. Harwin comes undone, his thrusts getting sloppy, before he can think about pulling out, he is already coming deep inside you with a shaky groan, His seed buried deep within you. Your hands move to cup each side of Harwin’s handsome face, the two of you lock eyes before you share a passionate kiss, Harwin slowly pulls out of your warmth and falls next to you on the bed, his chest lifting up and down and you both try to regain your breath.

Harwin turns to look at you, your protector drags his thumb along your jawline, admiring your beauty and how you look so much like a goddess in your current state. “I love you, I think I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” Harwin admitted, your heart swelled, you looked at him as though he had given you the world. “I know we’re forbidden, I know we cannot be. But, I am yours. Truly.” Harwin promised as he brought you close to his chest, your face nestled into his neck, peppering light kisses. “I am yours.” You agreed, coming to the realization that you were comparing every possible suitor to your sworn sword. “I will always be yours.” and with that, began your love affair, one which would make the history books.

#house of the dragon #ser harwin #harwin breakbones #harwin x reader #harwin strong #house targaryen #targaryen reader #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong imagine

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Fruity four + reader taking a weekend trip to a beach house, and reader + best friend!Eddie don't stop touching and teasing each other, including them sharing a bed despite having their own each and him getting hard while they play fight in her bikini👀

i never know who's included in the fruity four anymore so this is mostly just reader/eddie </3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Eddie comes out of the bathroom shirtless, joggers on his waist as he runs a towel through his hair. It's too long to get away with, and you're sure his rapid strokes of the towel through his curls just tangle them, but you're too cozy in your twin bed to stop him.

"Water pressure sucks in there," He jerks a thumb back towards the bathroom, "I'd have better luck showering down on the shore."

"You'd be all covered in sand," You grimace at the thought, "Just brush your hair and come to bed, I'm tired and I don't wanna hear you clomping around all night."

"I'm not that loud," Eddie grumbles, tossing the towel aside, "You're very demanding."

"Pardon me for wanting a nice vacation," You snap, turning over on the tiny mattress, "I'm so tired from swimming earlier that I thought I was gonna fall asleep on the fire pit."

Eddie comes back with a brush, you can hear it even though you're not facing him anymore. He grabs at your own hair, tugging a strand, "You'd have burnt this all off, babe."

"Leave me alone," You squirm, tugging your hair out of his grip, "I mean it, Munson, I'm exhausted."

"Fine! Fine," He huffs, tossing the brush aside, "Scoot over."

"What?"

"Scoot over," He nudges at your waist, pushing you across the too-small mattress, "You were begging me to come to bed, now you're confused?"

"Not my bed!" You insist, pushing at Eddie's hands that are still on your waist, "Idiot, you've got a bed right over there!"

"I saw a spider in it," Eddie informs you, not-so-convincing in his tall tales, "Just let me in, hardass."

You wriggle to one side of the mattress, but you're not done with him. When he slides beneath the blankets you scoot back against him, your ass flush to his crotch.

"I don't think you saw a spider," You muse, voice hushed as Eddie's breath hitches with the movement of your hips, "I think you want to sleep with me."

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie hums, but his voice shakes slightly, "What makes you think that?"

"You're getting hard," You snicker, "And you were earlier, too. Down by the beach, when we were wrestling. You like seeing me in a bikini? You like putting your hands all over me?"

"Y/N-" Eddie starts, his hands slowly sliding over your waist.

You cut him off with an obnoxious yawn, finally settling with your hips squeezed tight to his own, "On second thought, I'm tired. We'll talk in the morning, Eds. G'night."

He's barely able to grit his teeth and spit back a forced 'Good night.', but from the slight stiffness you feel against your ass, you know he won't be sleeping anytime soon.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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moralesmilesanhour · 9 months

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Hi! May I request a small fic where miles 42 dates a male reader who's very bubbly, glittery, fashionista, and dresses in very bright colors or pastels. Maybe Rio and Aaron finally get to meet him and try their best not to tease or laugh at how ironic it is?

They find it even funnier knowing he's the who's been stickers all of his jackets or just anything that came out of his room.

Got carried away with this one oopsie

take it or leave it.

Miles peeled off his dark green puffer jacket, brushing off stray rain drops that hadn’t evaporated yet. In doing so his fingers ran over something smooth like plastic. Already knowing what it was, he took his forefinger and thumb and removed it.

The face of a rabbit with an ‘x’ for a mouth stared blankly at him. Miles held it up to the light and smiled to himself as little dots of color shifted from orange to green, having a good idea who it was from.

You liked to slap these things everywhere–anywhere–that you could reach. Though you never explained yourself to him, Miles suspected that your reason was the same as his when he spray-painted the walls of abandoned buildings: to make your presence known in a world that seemed set on ignoring you.

Your bleach-blonde curls, pastel shirts and flared pants made you quite difficult to ignore in the first place.

Even Miles, who hid beneath his hoodies and oversized jackets, couldn’t take his eyes off of you from across the basketball court that fateful day as you sat on a bench crowded with your friends. They were dressed just as elaborately, but not with nearly as much variety of color.

One girl draped head-to-toe in black lace and silver jewelry leaned over to whisper something to you. Whatever was said made you turn and meet his eyes just as he caught the basketball that had just sunk through the net above him.

He froze momentarily and could’ve sworn he saw you grinning at him before he started dribbling again.

You were too far away for Miles to commit the details of your face to memory, but he recognized the blonde sitting at the top of your head when you rammed into him in the middle of the hallway the very next day.

Now in full uniform–save for the fashionably-loosened tie–his eyes were drawn to the row of helix piercings lining your right ear, and the faint glow of metallic eyeshadow swiped across your lids with lashes that curled sharply upwards like–

“Yo,” your voice brought him back to reality. “Are you okay? I said ‘my bad’.”

Miles blinked.

“Oh,” he replied dimly.

You laughed good-naturedly.

“Just ‘oh’?”

“I-I mean,” Miles stumbled over his words, “You’re…good. I guess.”

“That’s…good,” you parroted with a teasing smile. “See you around!”

You pulled the strap of your book bag further over your shoulder, causing the cluster of charms and trinkets hanging from it to click-clack together with every bouncy step you took as you weaved through the stream of oncoming students.

That was how it began.

“I think he likes you.”

Sela took a bite of her french fry, which she then pointed towards the next table ahead of her. You followed her line of vision right back to the mismatched eyes that had burned two holes into the back of your skull in the hallway.

And P.E.

And A.P. Bio.

The more you thought about it, the more your friend’s hypothesis began to sound believable.

Still, you shook your head and chuckled.

“He’s definitely straight, first of all.”

“You don’t know that! What happened to not assuming?”

“Hm, I dunno…”

You looked again. This time, Miles was fiddling with the sleeves of his uniform, avoiding eye contact. Presentation aside, you’d never really seen him running with the sort of boy that said “Pause!” every five minutes, so that was a plus.

…Then again, you’d never seen him running with anyone. He even hooped alone. You recalled him making several lay-ups in a row as clean as the twin braids that brushed his shoulders. No team required.

Sela interrupted your quiet deliberation.

“Go talk to him and find out, then. Not like he’s gonna kill you if you ask.”

She tapped her long black coffin nails on the lunch table, awaiting your answer.

“I don’t feel like getting up,” you groaned lazily.

“Fine, I’ll call him over.”

“Hey, wait–”

“Aye, Morales! Miles Morales!”

Miles looked startled. “Huh?”

Sela waved at him while you ran your palm over your face.

“C’mere!”

He eyed her suspiciously, but slowly got up and shuffled over to your table.

“Do you…” he looked around. “Need something?”

The girl gestured enthusiastically towards you, and you rolled your eyes mentally before replacing the irritation with a smile and taking the lead.

“You looked lonely over there, man. Come sit with us!”

Miles bit his bottom lip once you spoke up, appearing to take in a sharp breath before taking the empty seat across from you.

“So do you have any, like, actual friends–? Ow!”

Sela rubbed her arm after you gave her a good smack.

“Sorry about her. She meant to ask if you were doing alright. You seemed kinda out of it.”

“I’m…fine,” he answered slowly.

“Well, that’s good. You were staring at me somethin’ fierce, I thought I had done something to you.”

Miles felt a rush of heat travel straight to his cheeks.

“N-nah, it’s just that–well, I saw you at the basketball court, and…” he trailed off and began messing with the end of one of his braids.

You leaned in closer to hear him better, which didn’t help his situation.

“One more time?”

“I saw you. At the basketball court.”

The teasing grin returned to your face.

“Yeah, I saw you too. What about it?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, trying to piece the right words together. Then he tried again.

“I liked your ‘fit.”

You held back an obnoxious snort of laughter.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, you have…good…fashion sense.”

Miles wrinkled his nose. He didn’t even believe his own lie. Why would you?

Mercifully, you narrowed your eyes but didn’t say anything.

“Thanks. You got good taste in sneakers.”

You paused, then added, “Meet me at the basketball court after school and I’ll show you how I put my outfits together. How's that sound?”

The offer hung in the air. Miles considered the possibility that you were just pulling his leg and that he’d wind up standing alone in an empty court, but there was no sign of a joke in your expression.

He shrugged in a fake show of nonchalance.

“Sure.”

The two of you went on like that for two long months. Meeting each other on the court, sitting on the bench and making light conversation while shooting compliments at each other that always just missed the mark of what you really meant to say, until one day you finally got tired of meandering.

“Miles, can I ask you something?”

“I dunno,” he answered, sipping on a pouch of Capri-Sun. “Can you?”

“You promise that if I ask, you’re gonna give me an honest answer?”

“If it won’t get me arrested, sure.”

“Miles, I’m serious.”

Your gaze intensified, making his heart rate quicken.

“Alright.”

“Are you into me?”

His blood ran hot and icy cold at the same time.

The thumping in his chest whenever you got close and he could smell what soap you used, the absent-minded doodles in his sketchbook, and finally, the staring, had been given a name. And in being named, it took on a physical form - something blinding and liquid that shot through his bloodstream.

Miles wanted to be able to say no. Give a straight answer, and move on to a more comfortable topic. But you’d read him like a book the last time he tried to lie to your face.

You noticed his hesitation, and the vice grip he had on his now-empty Capri-Sun.

“It won’t change anything, I just wanna be sure.”

He looked unconvinced. How do you just go back to normal knowing that your friend is in love with you? They could pretend nothing had changed for maybe a couple weeks, maximum, before conversations became clipped greetings in the hallway, then fizzled out into nothing. Impossible.

But again, it was no use lying.

He avoided your eyes as he answered, “I think so.”

Cold, delicate fingers suddenly found themselves beneath his chin, and his eyes widened as you turned his face towards yours.

“Miles, look at me. You either do or you don’t.”

His heartbeat was in his ears now, making his breaths shallow and the veins in his eyes pulse. The setting sun cast a sentimental glow over everything that filtered through your hair. No one else was around, save for the warm breeze.

“Miles, are you good–?”

He pressed his lips against yours before he could stop himself. Your lips were smoother than he’d expected, just slightly tacky with mentholated lip balm.

And, more importantly, they kissed him back.

Miles grabbed his sketchbook from his desk drawer and opened it to a page filled with tiny sketches of your outfits. Carefully, he placed the sticker next to the baby blue puffer you’d worn yesterday so that the two of you could be “twins”.

He should really call you, he thought.

You sighed, leaning your head back on the couch beneath the cool air-conditioning of Miles’ uncle Aaron’s apartment. The tall, lean man that you’d guessed Miles had probably gotten his accent from (and sayings that could only come out of the mouth of an older man) had gone out momentarily to grab food for all three of you.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to your now-sort-of-official boyfriend with a questioning look.

“What?”

Miles was holding back a laugh.

“Why’d you switch up like that in front of my uncle?”

“I didn’t ‘switch up’ anything.”

“I have never heard you talk like that in my life.”

You copied his pose, slouching and man-spreading with your hands resting on your thighs. You flattened and lowered your voice into the boring monotone that teenage boys liked to adopt when they wanted to be taken seriously.

“You mean like this?”

This earned a snicker from Miles, whose expression then became earnest.

“Seriously, though, you don’t gotta do the whole act around my unc. He’s not like that.”

“Then why do you do it?”

The boy paused.

Your observation was correct - Miles tended to lengthen and smooth out his stride when he walked next to Aaron on their ‘grocery runs’. He would remove the playful lilt in his voice, like when you strain freshly-brewed tea, leaving only the mellow liquid behind.

“That’s…different.”

We’re trying to impress him for two different reasons.

You let it go.

“Whatever you say. You are gonna tell him about us, though, right? Since he’s ‘not like that’.”

Miles scoffed, “You’re the one that introduced yourself as ‘a close friend of mine’. I ain’t tell you to say any of that.”

“I wasn’t sure if you felt safe!” you laughed.

“We were holding hands before he even opened the door, he definitely saw that shit.”

“Alright, alright, you win. We’ll both tell him, then. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

“Miles! Tu novio!”

“Coming!”

Miles padded over to the living room, where you stood in a bright yellow jacket covered in vibrant patchwork, and those jeans with the spray-painted stars all over them. Your hair was hidden beneath a red beanie you had stolen from his closet.

Aaron sipped on a fresh cup of coffee in the kitchen, well-within earshot as Miles greeted you.

“Hey.” The boy smiled, awkwardly sticking his hands in the pockets of his plain, dark-wash jeans.

His mother Rio shut the door and looked on in amusement at the two boys standing in front of her. You would think her son would add some more color to his wardrobe, being with someone that looked like that. But the all-black ensemble wasn’t going anywhere.

“¿Ustedes dos siguen fingiendo ser amigos?” the woman teased. “I’m not sensing any affection over here, guys!”

Miles gave his mom a blank stare, while you laughed. Even months later, the other boy wasn’t one for PDA.

“Oh they real affectionate, alright,” Aaron chimed in.

“Here we go…”

“I go out to get these boys some Domino’s one time, right? I come back up, and these two are cuddling on my damn couch after they told me they were ‘just good friends’. Now mind you, I ain’t believe ‘em for a second–”

“That’s great, unc,” Miles was already tugging you in the direction of his room, “We’re leaving now!”

“Don’t get too touchy in there!”

Once inside, he shut the door behind him. You struggled to suppress a laugh at the weary look on his face as you sat on the edge of his bed.

“She’s kinda right, y’know.”

“About?”

“It wouldn’t kill you to spare me a hug or something, once in a while.”

He said nothing.

You scanned Miles’ bedroom. All of his manga had been cleared off of his desk, and his swivel chair was no longer burdened with a pile of clothes. He just cleaned his room, you think.

The only thing left sitting there was his notorious sketchbook, a ballpoint pen, and a couple of Tombow markers scattered about.

And of course, your stickers.

You got up to take a closer look at the loose sketches and hummed in satisfaction.

“You’re really good at getting clothing folds right. You sure you never wanna study fashion design?”

He smiled, and shook his head.

“I’ll leave the fashion shit to you.”

“We could go to F.I.T. together, you and me.”

Without so much as making a peep, Miles and his long legs had snuck up behind you to wrap his equally-long arms around your waist.

“I’ll visit you.”

“What are you doing?”

“You asked for a hug.”

“That’s not what I mea–”

“Take it or leave it.”

The smell of paint and Jergens lotion enveloped you as you pulled him closer. You inhaled deeply, then sighed.

“You’re real stubborn, you know that?”

His chest shakes as he laughs.

“One of us has to be.”

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x male reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x you #requests #moralesanhour #earth 42 miles morales x male reader

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charmedreincarnation · 1 year

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Hey angels! I’m still on break but I wanted to show you guys how powerful the law is, and how it’s in effect with everything even when we don’t notice!

Here’s everything I’ve manifested in this year alone !

🌸70,000$ in school scholarships. My tuition does not even cost that much so most of it will be coming back to my credit card shortly

🌸an older sister. I’m the oldest child in my household, and as any older sibling knows it’s so hard. You have to lead, yet have no one to look up to for advice yourself. Anyways my dad got in touch with his old wife, and my mom who was once reluctant to let my half siblings in my life, now encouraged it! My older half sister is literally just like me. We now FaceTime, she defends me when I’m scared, she buys me stuff all the time because she has hella money, and I go to her apartment for sleep overs. I am very lucky and happy to finally have the older sister I’ve always wanted.

🌸an old friendship! I remember in 2020 I was friends with this girl and we were both super depressed, had similar circumstances, and were into manifesting+astrology. I’m sure she’s one my twin flame, and the friendship ended over the dumbest thing ever. Anyways for a year I used dumb methods like the 333 method, sp methods to get her to text me, stuff like that. I ended up giving up but earlier this year I was thinking about her, yanno just wondering where she is. She sent me a heart felt apology the next day. I manifested her without even trying!

🌸All As in school without trying.

🌸losing weight the more I eat. Y’all I’m 5’5 and 112 pounds, yet I eat like an Olympic gold medalists. I don’t even eat healthy and knowing myself.. well that’s something that’s not going to change lol. Anytime I would eat a lot, I would just say the more I eat, the more I lose and the healthier I am…and I never gained a single pound. Only lost! Don’t worry I’m still healthy and my doctors say I’m in a healthy range still, so as long as that continues healthily I’m fine.

🌸my family winning the lottery through the void state. I won’t say specific numbers but it’s in the 7 figure range, and was my first void success! I’m going to keep manifesting and exploring the void to have more stuff in the future!

🌸(dumb) but clearing my name in the unique situation. i remember just affirming the truth always comes out and she got exposed a few hours later. aside from the hate from her anons, I left the situation unscathed for the most part 😮‍💨

🌸not having seasonal depression this year. I did not manifest my depression or anxiety away for personal reasons, before anyone starts! But due to the combination of manifesting and just having a better overall life, it honestly did not affect me much this year.

🌸getting results from subliminals without even listening to them. I left my subliminal era a couple of years ago, and I don’t really use them anymore. But sometimes I come across a really cool one with dope benefits, and I want to use it bc.. why not lol. But I don’t really like listening to them, so I just wrote down that I can listen to it once and after that my brain memorizes the sequence and it works it out repeatedly even when it’s not playing and I’ve definitely noticed results.

🌸manifesting my best friend’s cancer away! I already made a post about this, but this was my favorite manifestation of this year.

🌸every single one of my shifts

🌸so many free things!

🌸and so much more, but these are my favorites!

#law of assumption #manifesation #void state #manifesting #void success #reality shifting

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astrxealis · 1 year

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amongst all my interests the struggle of being under 18 but into ff(xiv) and wanting to make friends is an absolute pain

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#uhh aside from people i got interested in ffxiv (who have not played ffxiv much yet either way)#there is only one person i've met LMFAO the other doesn't really count uhh i did meet them before they turned 18 #but for a very short while only. and while i was much younger than i am now. so i don't count them lol but <3 #uhh yeah ... me! my twin! my best friend (xiv version)! that is. it #idm tbh but man ... also how ever since w my old fc/friends (we still good tho <3 just switched when materia dc came out so </3)#they uhh realized we were 'kids' LMFAO they're still nice i really appreciate that but you can tell smth changed. not that i mind much #yeah ... ive only met one other person irl who knew ffxiv aside from me and my twin's influence. and the dude actually played free trial #a bit a long time ago and then recently (like uh a year ago haha) bcs of us ^___^ and then best friend got into free trial around the #same time but bcs of being busy hasn't played much ... and uh that's it. a few other people know ffxiv in my school but i sincerely doubt #any of them played but goddamn i was in the gaming club last sy and the senior's senior actually was really into ffxiv raghhhh #not that i ever interacted w them :(( wish i was there for the year before last year. sniffs. anyway!#so yeah uhh excluding the people ive probably introduced to the existence of ffxiv there's 1. 2. 3. 4. people #who at least know it. one of those poeple is a friend of my best friend and a friend of mine too and they have a bro who plays #uhh the other was like OOOH when i said in the gaming club i was into ffxiv. so i am assuming they know Something. and then #the other has a shirt (i am betting they do not actually play... but have friend/s relative/s who do.....) and the other #okay yeah you get it anyway RAMBLES over oh god i am playing ffxiv as i type all of this down lmfao anyway. ffxiv mwa #aghh i care less about having Friends who are. ??? idk how to explain but i am less bitter and Better and Okay <3 #okay that's all im tired of typing lol #wait but ff in general is a pain to be into (as my favorite video game series even) as a minor bcs #most people are just into 7 15 :/ pisses me off i love those games but it really makes me so annoyed :')#anyway !!! also bcs most fans are well into their 30s im sure and i am here. not even 18. my aunt is into ff and its thanks to her #i got into it when i was very young but i am a whole decade younger ??? and yeah #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ehbvjhebhsv and by into ff (me) i mean i am literally into. every single ff game. 1-16 and non mainlines too #havent played them all yet but !! <3 yeah #uhh okay im tired of typing bye but yeah

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nanaminsmoon · 1 year

Note

Good morning!!!! I love your blog so much!!!!💗🫶🏾 Your writing is amazing???

Baby daddy Choso????

thank you so much!!! but thanks for requesting this fren bc i love this so much🤭

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, oral (f + m receiving), choking (f+m receiving), spit kink, choso calls reader; 'baby' and 'baby girl', this man is a masochist lowkey, yeah this is a lil nasty

wc: 3858

your twins loved their dad; excited feet would scamper their way to your bedroom, three hours earlier than usual, every friday because they knew it’d be the day they’d see him. and you guys had a routine: you got them ready in the morning, took them to school, then choso’d pick them up, and they'd be his for the weekend.

and, during those 48 hours, there was no beach far enough, nor park busy enough, for choso because he would take his girls wherever they wanted to go. every week, pinkie promises to not tell you about staying up later than rules would allow were made between the trio. then, come sunday morning, the girls would be impatiently jumping into your arms, as soon as you opened your door—usually with some playful change in their appearances. yet this particular one would cause your forehead to crease in confusion,

”what's on my daughter's face?”, you’d ask, once the girls were of earshot. immediately, choso knew what you were talking about but he’d play dumb just to irk you.

”eyes, eyelashes, eyebro—”, he’d start listing, and you’d interrupt him.

”no, dickhead, the thing over her nose”, you clarified and he’d inwardly rejoice at his success at annoying you.

”oh. she saw my tattoo and said she wanted one, so i just got her a little temporary one”, he’d explain, eyes trained on the twins as he waved back at them while they ran around the house.

”and when she wants it for real?”, you’d poke at his chest, and his hand would rise to hold the spot your fingertip had touched as he faked a pained expression.

”i don't know how reckless you think i am, but i'm not gonna tattoo a six year old”, he’d scoff, but his amusement would fall to flatten quite quickly.

as hard as choso tried to fan the hurt fogging his mind, it just wouldn’t leave him. choso could be denounced for his work over, and over, again and he’d bounce back because he was so confident and sure of his abilities. but jabs at his skills as a father never failed to pinch at his heart. people would spend an hour with him, then start to question his parenting abilities based off the way he looked and his reserved manner. the prickling in his chest didn’t come from insecurity, but from sensitivity to reminders of the same baseless assumption. especially coming from someone he deemed to be the perfect parent,

”why do you keep doing that?”, he’d look at you earnestly, and confusion would force your eyebrows together.

”doing what?”,

”making me out to be this bad influence.”,

”maybe it’s because you run around with cancer sticks behind your ears”, you pulled the cigarette from behind his ear, and shoved it in his pocket.

”aside from that. you treat me like i'm gonna corrupt the girls.”, he paused, ”you treat me the way your parents treated me”, due to his appearance and impassive demeanour, most people around you had opposed your relationship with choso. your friends warned he’d be a terrible father, and your parents mistook how reserved he was for coldness, and arrogance. outwardly, he seemed inattentive, rude, and aloof but choso didn’t care because the most important people in his life understood him. he was his daughters’ best friend, protector, and joint number one on their list of favourite princesses to join their tea parties—the other being you.

no matter how many years passed, you’d always love choso. though you weren’t together anymore, the need to defend him against those who misunderstood him had never dissipated. so to hear that you had become one of the people you had spent almost a decade trying to quieten, lunged your heart into your throat.

”choso, i'm so sorry. i didn't know i was being—”, you’d start to apologise, but you’d be quickly interrupted. penitence sunk all your features in a way choso couldn’t ignore; he knew you had no malintent with your words, and he didn’t want you to beat yourself up over it.

”nah, it's cool.”, he waved you off, ”i get it, but you know me. you know i love them to death and i'd never encourage anything that i knew would hurt them. but anyways, i guess i'll go now, i'll see you on frida—”, he’d been stood in the doorway and, as he began to step backwards to leave, your hands would clasp one of his. he’d be visibly surprised, but his feet would still be ladened to their spot.

”let me make it up to you”, you'd propose, and intrigue would raise choso’s eyebrow.

you’d always known there were benefits to your best friend being your neighbour, and today would be the day you’d reap one of them. after instructing choso to sit and wait on the couch, you’d gather the girls’ stuff and take them next door. you’d come back to choso still sat where you had left him, legs spread and large hand dwarfing his phone. the urge to jump on his dick right then and there was stronger than you would’ve liked, but you’d keep composed. even under his fervent glare as he watched you take your shoes off. there’d be a moment of waiting once your eyes met, then you’d beckon for him to follow you. choso’s curiosity was eating away at him, but if there’s one thing he had learnt during your time together it was that he was not to question your plans. even as he realised you were leading him to your bedroom, he’d just scoff to himself and continue trailing you.

once at the door, you’d open it and hold it for him to go in. and, chuckling, he’d enter the room, chills already running down his spine at the way those four walls boxed him into your scent, and swathed him in it. his back being turned to you allowed choso to shamelessly close his eyes, and take it all in. he’d only be brought back to reality by the clicking of the door lock.

”the fuck are you doing?”, he laughed as he turned around.

”making it up to you, now sit.”, he'd raise his hands in surrender, before he’d sit on the edge of the bed, eyes narrowed as he watched you saunter your way towards him.

one thing led to another, and you went from kissing and licking at choso's bulge through his boxers to having his dick throat deep inside you. during your relationship, head had been one of choso’s favourite things. he’d even claimed that, had your pussy not been so good, he’d like head more than sex. there were never enough words to explain it but, to him, there was nothing that drove him crazier than the sight of your eyelashes batting up at him as you took all of him into your mouth, nose tickling his pelvic bone. and, busy with his tattoo studio, choso didn't have a lot of time to date so he couldn't remember the last time he felt a woman's throat enclose around his tip the way yours did. his toes were damn near gripping at the carpet through his socks, as his fingers dug into the duvet. though their one wish was to be entangled in your tresses, scratching at your scalp when you swallowed around him, choso hadn’t forgotten that the reason you had asked him to drop the girls off two hours later than usual, was because you were getting your hair done. so he'd refrain for an entire two seconds, fingers contracting around nothing, before he'd just ask,

”can i put—fuck—my hands in your h—shit, y/n—hair”. and another low ’shit’ would leave his lips when you'd pull him out of your mouth to show him the lewd mix of your saliva and his precum leaking out your lips.

”’f you fuck it up, then you gotta pay for me to get it redone”, you tilted your head to run his length against you lips, and choso’s hands were on your head immediately.

”yes, ma’am”, he moaned out.

though you had been broken up for five years, the mutual sexual attraction between you two had never dwindled, so you two fucking post-breakup was inevitable. that being said, choso hadn't nutted in you in almost two years and he didn’t want the first time in 24 months to be in your mouth. that’s what his heart wanted, but his body would have other plans. head wasn’t just about the feeling for choso, the man loved a performance. knowing this, you’d pull him out of your mouth to allow a string of spit and precum hang from your lips, letting it land on his length again just so you could use it as lube to stroke him a few more times.

”you can’t do shit like that, y/n, i’ll nu—”, his strained voice tried to explain, but it’d be cut short by more of your antics. one second your lips would be around his balls, then the next they'd be damn near touching his pelvic bone, as you took him into your throat again. he'd raise his hand to place it on your forehead,

”w-wait, y/n i'm gonna—fuckfuckfuckfuck—baby, wait i'm gonna cum”, he'd warn, but you'd just take that as a signal to keep hallowing your cheeks and taking him into your throat. the pleasure delayed his reflexes, so choso wouldn’t be fast enough in pulling his dick from your mouth; most of his nut would be inside it and, as you let his dick slip from your lips, he’d get some on your cheek, chin and nose too. the tip of your middle finger would collect some of it, and put it in your mouth, eyes locked with his as you did so.

”i forgot how fucking nasty you are”, he'd chuckle before flopping backwards to face the ceiling, as he just laid on his back.

choso’s love for head wasn’t limited to just receiving, because one of his life’s finest pleasures resided between your legs.

”i just need to get you ready f’r me, baby”, would be his response when you told him he didn’t need to reciprocate. but the truth was, choso luxuriated in the way you grabbed at his hair and closed your thighs around his head—the near suffocation was the closest to heaven he thought he’d ever get. he loved the way your body didn't know what to do with itself, squirming underneath the cold metal of his tongue, and lip, piercing. yet, nothing could dethrone the way the warmth of your thighs taking away all his air made his dick twitch. he'd enjoy the gratifying discomfort they brought, before he'd force your legs open again,

”you taste so fucking good, baby, i don't know how i went without this for so long”, he'd say when he came back up for a breath. his fingertips would dig into your thighs as he placed your legs on his shoulders. fingertips would soon be substituted for large palms, as choso pushed the flesh together to basically cut off his air supply. it felt sick to admit, but he loved the feeling of you essentially choking him out.

choso hadn't intended on eating you out until you came, but once he’d started, he couldn't stop. he’d lost track of time and then, all of a sudden, the feeling of your nails on his scalp was harsher. and if he wasn’t relishing in the feeling, eyes fluttering shut in enjoyment, he might’ve noticed that you were about cum a lot sooner. but he’d only catch on when your babbles became more coherent,

”chos-so, i'm-m cumming, shit”, you'd say, and when his brain finally processed those words, it'd be too late because he'd have your release all over him.

for a few moments, the only sounds audible in your room were your heavy breathing and the sound of choso licking your arousal off his fingers. the glisten of the inside of your thighs would catch his attention, and he’d move to remove them of their shimmer. the feeling of the metal on your skin would coax a jolt out of you, before you’d be backing away from his mouth to sit up and face him. the man looked depraved; hair a mess, and face shining, as he just smirked at you.

the shirt covering your top half would be off, as well as choso’s shirt and boxers. and, seeing your bare body for the first time in years was having visible effects on choso—he was stunned.

”wow”, he said, in a whisper, reaching to hold you but you’d pushed his shoulder.

”what?”, you giggled, and he just shook his head so as to not make you feel embarrassed.

”no, i just…i forgot how beautiful you are”,

”shut up, bruh”, you'd playfully roll your eyes, before pulling at choso’s arm to switch your positions. his interest would be piqued yet again, and you'd quell it with a sloppy kiss to his lips. you’d mount choso to sit at the bottom of his abdomen, and his hands landed on your hips. they'd help you ride the ridges of his toned stomach, taking note of how you moaned into his mouth as your juices smeared all over his lower torso.

you'd soon shift yourself, sliding down his length and choso wouldn’t be able to see much of it because his eyes rolled to shut once he felt you wrap around him. hands placed on his broad chest, you'd move up and down on him and his tatted fingers would dig into your hips. choso’s pleasure was visceral, and he almost wanted it to stop before he got too attached and refused to let it end as he had many times before. when you and choso fucked, you did so for hours because you were both relentless. yet, as good as this felt, choso was ashamed to admit that something was missing.

”this is all for me, right?”, he'd ask breathily, hands stilling you. it’d be hard to formulate thought, because you were just paused with his dick deep inside you. but you'd manage a shabby attempt at a nod.

”well, can you…”, choso’d pause, eyes wandering around the bed, and his uncertainty would make you anxious. when it came to sex, you two had always been honest, and open to try anything. so if it made him cautious, then it was one of two things; something he’d been wanting for a while, or something completely left field.

“could you choke me?”, he'd ask, and your once lidded eyes would be widely staring back at him.

”like…?”, you'd raise your hand, and both of his would engulf it, leading it to his neck.

”this.”, he looked you in your eyes, and your hand grew firmer, ”and just keep it there”, he'd instruct, and you'd nod, before starting to move again.

though new to you, you began seeing the appeal of choking choso very quickly. mainly because of the way his eyelids would flutter, as his eyes rolled to shut, just by virtue of feeling your hand on his neck. not to mention the way his hips would move on their own to rut into you, every time your thumb and middle finger tightened around his throat. he may have been larger than you in stature, but choso was completely under your control. both the tightness of your walls, and the feeling of your hand around his neck—sweat making it hard for you to move while maintaining a secure grip on him—was making him delirious. and he never wanted it to stop.

choso's mouth was making any noise it could muster to express how good he was feeling. he went from quietly cursing under his breath, to just shouting cuss words at you. you weren't far from your nut either; due to both the view and the way his dick’s chase for more pleasure, made choso fuck into you harder. the feeling made your thighs weaken but, ultimately, choso would be the first to let go,

”where d’you want it?”, he asked, and your hand would remain on his neck as you leaned down to speak to him.

”nut in me, choso”, you’d whine, lips latching onto his neck to kiss it. the combination of the sultriness of your voice and your lips attacking the most sensitive spot on his neck, would’ve been enough but choso completely lost it when he’d feel a sting as you marked his skin. he'd cum underneath you, hips stuttering upwards to prolong the pleasure he was feeling. all choso could do was cuss, and dig his trimmed fingernails into you before just laying there, a shell of his former self.

you'd be riding him for a few more minutes, before choso’s control of his limbs would return to him, then he’d have you laid underneath him. no further words would be exchanged before he was slamming into you, silver chains dangling in your face and his hand on your throat, as he fucked you with vigor. as amazing as the opposite had felt, choso much preferred this version of things. he preferred looking down at you as your eyes fluttered and rimmed with salty displays of euphoria, he’d even lean down to lick one as it ran down the side of your cheek. choso indulged in the way you'd grab his forearm as strong as you could, sanguine crescents colouring in the empty spaces in his tattoos. he'd lean down to suck on your nipples, nipping at them just so he could hear the raising in pitch your moans and whines would do when that sensation coursed through you. his eyes would flicker down to the white froth collecting at the base of his dick, as his nut was pushed out of you with his every thrust.

”you're doing this all for me, right?”, he'd ask, and you'd nod, ”this fucked out all for me. taking this dick so good just for me”, he'd say, lips once again around your nipples.

choso wasn't letting up; his pace was merciless, as he fucked you dumb. most times you had fucked, choso would slow down, or pull out, when that familiar constriction of your walls told him you were close. he'd do it until you were crying and begging underneath him, voice growing excrutiatingly hoarse. but, seeing as you already had tears in your eyes, he'd only do it once before he'd just maintain a harsh rhythm as you came around him.

”choso, fffuck”, you cried out, but he'd just keep going. his eyes were so focused on the silhouette of his dick moving in and out of you, as your stomach contracted, that he'd lost all sight of where he was. you could've told choso he was jupiter and the man would've believed you. he couldn't even remember why you guys had started fucking in the first place, all he knew was that he didn't want to stop. to choso, thinking about anything that wasn’t you was a waste of brain power. so he'd turn his brain off and let his body do whatever it wanted to. even if it meant overstimulation for the both of you.

your third nut would be pretty imminent, seeing as choso literally would not stop moving inside of you. but it'd be unlike the others,

”choso, g-gimme a s-second”, you'd say, and he'd shake his head because he knew what you were doing. choso knew your body, and he knew it well; he knew what you were trying to prevent well enough to know that it was the very thing he was striving for,

”you said you doing all this for me, baby.”, he'd remind you, ”’nd i wanna see you make a fucking mess on my dick.”, his words would do nothing but edge you closer to your nut.

”can you do that f’r me?”, he’d ask, and you’d nod your head.

”just f’r me?”, he’d ask, voice laboured, ”i don’t deserve you, baby”, he’d pout before moving down to connect your lips.

and, under his instruction, you’d just let that funny little feeling near your bladder do whatever it wanted to. one of your hands would be struggling to wrap around choso’s wrist, while the other would be gripping the sheets for dear life. the hand choso had placed on your neck would remain stagnant, movement only reserved for the other as it moved to your clit. worries about you moving because of how fast, and hard, he was fucking you were nonexistent because the sweat covering your body meant that you were adhered to the fabric underneath you. choso's tatted fingers would rub on your bud until you came on them, practically spraying him with your release.

a low chuckle would leave choso's mouth at the endearing view of you trying to calm your body down. heavy breaths would slither past your lips, but your eyes remained closed. choso’s hand would plant a light slap to your cheek to wake you back up, but it'd be to no avail. so he’d try once more, this time, grabbing your chin to shake your face until your eyes opened.

”say ‘ah’, baby girl”, he'd ask, and you'd open your mouth as wide as your slack jaw would allow. a line of spit would fall from his lips to your tongue before you'd swallow it, and he'd smirk to himself.

”didn’t even have to tell you what to do”, he’d snicker, and you’d smile contently up at him. the woman choso was seeing was so unlike the one he had met so many years ago, and he dreaded to think that the sweet glint in your eyes had bittered because of him. however, that dread would quickly fade and, in its place, would be a knowing smirk,

”shit, maybe i am a bad influence.”

#nanaminsmooninc #jjk x black y/n #jjk x black reader #choso x black!reader #choso smut #choso x you #jujutsu kaisen choso #i need him real bad #choso x reader

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sehunniepotwrites · 11 months

Text

FOREVER SUMMER | teaser

SYNOPSIS. They say that three is the magic number, and with you having two childhood friends by your side every summer, you consider this to be true. Summers were always for no one else but you, Johnny, and Jaehyun. You want that to stay the same but of course, nothing ever does. Not when feelings come into play. You’re in love with Johnny, Jaehyun’s in love with you, and quite frankly, you don’t really know how to move forward. So much for the summer of your life.

PAIRING. Johnny x female!reader x Jaehyun

GENRE. Childhood Friends to Lovers!AU | Summer!AU | Beach!AU | Lifeguard!AU | Surfer!AU

WARNINGS. Based on Jenny Han’s The Summer I Turned Pretty, Johnny and Jaehyun are cousins, profanity, alcohol consumption, food consumption, smoking (vaping and weed), nicknames (for her: Shadow, Munchkin; for Jaehyun: Dopey; for Johnny: Jojo), more warnings to come

DISCLAIMER.This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. Crossposted on AO3 by sehunnypot.

“Mom, drive faster!” you yelled from the passenger seat, wondering why you didn’t volunteer to take the wheel instead. With you at the wheel, you would’ve arrived at your destination hours ago. If this was a normal day, your mother would have scolded you for raising your voice at her but this was not any given day. This was the start of your epic summer in Neiho.

Being in the town of Neiho for two and a half months meant living in a gorgeous beach house that was a block away from the shoreline. A large two-story structure with six bedrooms, four bathrooms, a pool to swim in, and a backyard large enough to run around in–what could be more perfect than that?

The answer to that question was found in the other inhabitants of the mansion. Your twin aunties–not your blood relatives but your mother’s best friends from university–were the co-owners of the house, passed onto them by their parents. When your mom had nowhere to go one college summer, the twins picked her right up and invited her into their summer abode, and a yearly tradition had been formed. Fall, winter, and spring breaks were for other things but summer was always reserved for the beach house on Neiho’s Cherry Lane.

Even though the three friends who were as close as sisters started their own respective families, the tradition carried on with the expansion. And that’s where the two most important inhabitants come to play–Johnny Suh and Jaehyun Jeong. The boys, as you called them, were cousins who were like brothers to each other. And to you, they were your best childhood friends.

Being the same age as you, you were closer to Jaehyun–the pretty boy with the dimples and the deepest, dad laugh you could ever hear. Although apart for the majority of the year, Jaehyun never failed to text you at least once a day, whether it be a meme or just a random message that could be deemed as “too much information.” You shared a lot with him and in turn, he did the same with you. To you, that lunkhead basketball man was an open book.

His older cousin, however, was not. Unlike Jaehyun, Johnny kept some pages closed. There were times when he was inaccessible and neither you nor Jae could read him. If something were bothering him, Johnny would keep it to himself rather than burden you or Jaehyun with his problems. As the oldest, his duty was to shoulder it, shove them aside, and make sure whatever happened didn’t affect you or Jaehyun in any way possible. His pouty lips would press into a thin line, his straight brows would furrow, and his eyes would narrow until you couldn’t see the beautiful honey-brown people would die to swim in. Other times, though, he was like sunshine and his wide smile brightened your days as no one else could.

“Sit your butt down, child, we’re almost there,” your mother laughed, playfully shoving your shoulder so your butt fell back into the cushioned seat. Her hands turned the wheel and the tires landed on Cherry Lane. She passed one, two, three houses before pulling into the driveway. Before she could put the car into park, your fingers flew to the seat belt latch, ultimately freeing your body from your chair. Never mind that you were leaving your mom to deal with your bags.

With enthusiasm that was seen nowhere else but here in Neiho, you rushed out of the car and down the nostalgic pathway filled with memories that lingered in your mind. You spotted the garden rocks you painted how many summers before as well as the wind catchers that you created with the boys during an arts class they were so reluctant to take. Holding back a smile at all the familiarity, you shoved the keys already in your hand eagerly into the lock. A twist to the side and your hand on the knob was all it took to open the grand, wooden door. A sigh that came from way deep in your chest let itself out as the cooling air conditioner and the smell of the sea salt vanilla candles blew your way.

With one hand against the clean, white walls, you used the other to slip your shoes off. “Anyone home?”

Home. That was what the beach house on Cherry Lane was. It was home.

Loud, resounding pounds from the staircase alerted you that someone was there and you knew exactly who that person was before they made it down the steps and rounded the corner. Always heavy-handed in the way he handled his body, Jaehyun Jeong stomped his way to you, his gait echoing through the quiet hallways. His smile was wide as soon as you landed in his line of vision. The next thing you knew, his body was hurling your way and you had no time to escape what came next.

“Munch! You’re here!” he yelled into your ear right before lifting and twirling you around. Jaehyun’s voice sounded deeper than the last time you saw him in person. Your surprised squeal drowned out his low-toned laughter and your feet kicked against the hard core he worked on in the last year.

“Put her down, Jae, before you break something,” his mom, Jieun, called from the steps, a fond smile taking over her face. Her features matched the ones on Jaehyun’s goofy face sans the reddened ears and cheeks.

Her sister and Johnny’s mom, Hyesoo, peeked out of the kitchen to add to the scolding. “Jae, if you break something, you’re gonna have to replace it with your own money, honey, so be careful!”

“Listen to them!” you whined as his hands continued to dig at your side. “You’re hurting me!”

He adjusted his grip. “Yo, how’s the weather up there, Munchkin? Better than down here, I hope,” Jaehyun teased with a cheeky smile.

“Shut up, Dopey!” You kicked him in the abdomen harder than the last and his stronghold loosened just enough for you to wiggle away.

As you caught your breath from laughing too hard, you took in your best friend’s appearance. Jaehyun’s wetsuit was half on–the top half folded right at the waist–while his buffer chest was slightly covered by the heathered tank top he probably threw on in a rush. Honey brown hair unstyled and strands thrown every which way, he still looked like the same boy you remembered. Just a tad bit taller and bigger than before. And to top it all off, his dopey smile had you mirroring one too.

You bet that the girls in his major department went crazy over him. You’ve heard some of his stories through your weekly FaceTime calls–from his short-termed girlfriends and situationships and friends with benefits–but none of those ever lasted. Curiosity bit at you, wondering why they never did, but you respected Jaehyun enough not to pry. If he wanted to, he would tell you.

“Hey there,” Jaehyun chuckled again, his large hand coming up to your chin to squish your cheeks in between his fingers.

You stuck your tongue out and blew a raspberry at him, spit landing on the back of his hand. Jaehyun gave you a look of disgust, wiping the wet spots against your shirt. You’d think at twenty-one, the pair of you would outgrow childish habits but that wasn’t necessarily the case.

“Just say you’re happy to see me, damn.”

“Never going to willingly admit that,” you retaliated with a shit-eating grin.

Jaehyun’s hands zoomed back to your face to pull at your cheeks. His tough grip tugged them so hard that it stung a lot more than it should have. Your consecutive slaps against his chest finally got him to stop and while you rubbed your cheeks better, he stifled his laughter behind his palm.

“You might not be happy to see me but I am always happy to see you, Munch,” Jaehyun pressed a wet kiss on your throbbing cheek in return. You were too busy tending to your pain to realize the redness that took over the tips of his ears. His mother and aunt were not. Giggling at each other, they enjoyed the boy’s embarrassed state, loving the fact that you were the only one to get him that pink.

“You’re something else, Jae,” you shook your head at him before rushing over to your aunties to hug them. You missed them both.

“Baby, don’t just stand there,” Aunt Jieun scolded her son, coming over to slap him against his bicep, “go use those muscles that you keep bragging about and help your auntie carry their stuff into the house.” The boy, dorky as ever, saluted his mother and ran out the door in his broken-in Rainbow sandals.

“Where’s Johnny?” you questioned. A glance around the house and you couldn’t see him anywhere. It was unlike him to not greet you as soon as you entered the property. Your heart dropped a little at his lack of presence.

“Oh honey, your one-track mind never changes, does it?” Aunt Hyesoo grinned at you with a knowing twinkle in her eye. You pouted at her and she simply poked you in between your curled-up brows. “John’s out surfing. We told him to wait until after you arrived but he promised he would be back before your pretty little face showed up. Knowing him, that boy probably lost track of time.”

The front door swung open and slammed against the wall only to reveal a sheepish Jaehyun. Once again, the boy underestimated his strength. If one were to look at the wall behind the door, they’d spot a dent in the wall from all the rough handling but that’s a thing everyone in the house let go of. Holding the door open, Jaehyun allowed your mom to roll her luggage in first before hauling your load in. As the three mothers reunited, Jae nudged his sharp elbow to your side. “I was about to go join Johnny for a bit, wanna come wi–”

“Yes, let’s go, let’s goooooo!” Not even letting your best friend finish his sentence, you snatched the keys to his mother’s Rav4 and headed out the door. “We’re heading out!” You called behind you before barreling out the door with your tote bag in hand.

Jaehyun trailed right behind you with his deep laughter ringing through your ears. When you didn’t toss him the keys and remained at your spot on the driver’s side, he hesitated to get in the unlocked vehicle. His lack of movement made you roll your eyes. You had gotten your license last fall at the age of twenty so driving was no problem for you. At least, it wasn’t anymore. If you went back to the previous summer with you at the wheel, Johnny at your side, and Jaehyun behind you, you would probably say otherwise. But that was then. You were twenty-one now and had almost a year of driving experience under your belt.

“Get in the car, my driving’s better now, I promise.” The engine started at the twist of your hand and Jaehyun remained outside with a hardened look on his face.

“Sure it is, Munch,” he replied with a brow raised.

“It really is, how else would I be able to get my license?” A few bats of your lashes and a pretty pout were all it took for Jaehyun to cave in and buckle himself in the car. He could never say no to you. Johnny was a little harder to break–he was a tough cookie to crack–but in the end, little old you were always his weakness.

A defeated sigh escaped Jaehyun’s pink lips. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Jaehyun’s little profession of love made you warm inside, just like your never ending friendship. “The luckiest girl in the world.”

“And the prettiest,” Jaehyun joked, swiping at your cheek.

“Ew, is that how you flirt with all the girls back home?”

“Why? Is it working?” From the corner of your eye, you could see his brows dance. “Are you finally falling for me? It’s about damn time.”

“Absolutely not. Disgusting.”

“Damn, and to think, I could have finally had a chance with the prettiest girl in Neiho.”

“Oh shut up.”

The beach was a two-minute drive away. If it weren’t for Jaehyun’s surfboard mounted on top of the car, you would have been fine with the seven-minute walk or the short bike ride to your perfect little paradise. The midday crowd had made its way into the beach’s car lot, leaving a tiny compact space for you to wiggle into. Your first few tries weren’t successful, even with Jaehyun’s guidance, leaving him to laugh at your attempts before you switched places. Johnny would have never teased you like that.

Jaehyun parked the car slowly yet successfully as you waited outside with crossed arms. He shot you a smug look, complete with his sunglasses sitting on top of his nose bridge and a smirk that lifted one plump cheek.

“Don’t say anything,” you pointed a finger at him. “I have trouble in compact spaces.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Jaehyun cheekily answered as he started to take his baby blue board down the rack.

Huffing, you turned your body away from your best friend and faced the shoreline. One breath was all it took to inhale the calming scents of the ocean. The sun beamed down on you; while others hated the direct light, you didn’t mind it. Accompanied by the soft breeze making its way through your loose hair, it was a perfect beach day. Your past self was right to wear your two-piece under your clothes instead of your undergarments.

Leaving Jaehyun behind, you stripped your loose top off, slipped off your Birkenstocks, and sunk your toes in the sand. The gritty, warm feeling surrounding your skin was something you missed dearly. Others hated the texture of sand–how it was coarse and hot, and how it got absolutely everywhere for no apparent reason–but it excited you. Feet running on autopilot, they led you straight to where the ocean met the shore. Dry sand turned wet, causing you to sink, sink, sink deep into the ground and you loved it all. When the cool rush of water hit your skin, you loved it even more. You closed your eyes and sighed, taking in the sounds of the waves hitting the rocks.

You opened them just in time to see a tall, built surfer riding a clean wave with no breaks. He made the sport look effortless when you know that in fact, it was not. At all. When the figure reached the shore not too far from you, the man planted his surfboard right in the sand. His height was not too far off from the item itself, which was a feature many onlookers admired.

After reaching down to catch some water in between his fingers, he ran that same hand through his thick dark brown hair, pushing his wet bangs out of his way. Your mouth began to split into two at the sight of him. Even without seeing his entire face, you knew that sharp jawline and stature anywhere. You saw it every summer, towering over you in a protective stance. The hands running through his hair used to hold yours whenever you had your scary movie marathons and the sculpted arms attached to them used to press you tightly against his chest whenever you needed comfort.

There were so many times your thoughts drifted from the topic at hand to that face and build. Dreams. Daydreams. Little scenarios in your head that fed the monster called delusion.

With tunnel vision for that man alone, your feet took you straight to him and your voice called out his name. “Johnny Suh!”

Johnny’s hands immediately reached behind him as you catapulted yourself onto the broadest back you had ever seen in your life. Your arms circled his neck and your bare legs coiled around his waist as he held you in place with no complaints. Your dry body pressed against the cold, damp wetsuit but you didn’t care. You were with Johnny now.

To you, the older of the boys wore many hats. He was your long-time friend. Your protector. Your crush. Your mom, as teasing as she gets, also referred to him as your first love. Your aunties rallied behind her with that and you always found it embarrassing. But loyal as they were, your secret never slipped past their lips. It was one for the girls, they would always say. You weren’t sure if Jaehyun caught on at some point–if he did, he never uttered a word.

Johnny turns his neck to glance at you. His eyes took notice of the sparkle in your eye and the bright light of your smile and it brought that charming grin out to play. “Aren’t your clothes going to get wet?” he chafed, tugging on the thin fabric of your loose linen shorts.

“Don’t care,” you replied, tilting your head to meet his gaze. His smile widened as you did so, the whiskers by his nose appearing out of nowhere. “Saying hi to you is more important than my clothes, Jojo.”

“Well then, hi.” The way Johnny said that two-letter word had your heart racing. It was soft and sweet and endearing. It was everything Johnny was. And it was beautiful.

“Hi.”

He tapped two fingers on your thigh. “You ready to get down yet?”

“Nope.”

Johnny chuckled again and with your chest pressed tightly against his back, you felt the vibrations it caused. “Looks like my little Shadow finally came back to me.”

Shadow–that was what he called you.

It all started when your moms noticed that you were so infatuated with the older boy that you stuck so close to him, following his every movement. When he would stand, so would you. And in turn, Jaehyun did too. When Johnny would want ice cream, you would copy him and state that you craved some too. And when he joined a volleyball camp at the country club, you tried to join too, only to be turned down because you were a girl. It upset you to no end at the young age of nine, that Jaehyun could follow the twelve-year-old Johnny but you couldn’t. To get rid of your sorrow, Johnny–although tired–played with you at home and taught you every little skill he learned that day. Your hobby only developed from there.

“Looks like it,” you giggled.

No matter how far you were or how much time had passed, you would forever remain as Johnny’s shadow. Just like Peter Pan’s shadow always found its way back to the leader of the Lost Boys, you would always find your way back to Johnny.

Your little moment was interrupted by the one and only Jaehyun, who has his surfboard lifted above his head. So into being within proximity to Johnny, you failed to notice the tiny drop of Jaehyun’s happy demeanor. “Dude, you done for the day or?” Jaehyun asked his older cousin, gesturing to the waves.

Johnny turned to him with you still hanging like a koala on his back, happy that you are reunited with your two boys. “Nah, I was thinking about catching a few more before heading back. Tide’s pretty good today.”

“Sweet,” Jaehyun grinned, his tiny little fangs peeking out as his mouth widened. He pointed his chin to the clear, blue water. “Let’s go?”

Johnny tapped your thigh again and released your legs from his hold. “You okay with that, Shadow?”

You nodded, patting your purse. “I got my audiobook, I’ll be fine.”

“You didn’t want to surf today?”

You tried your best to fight the warm flush taking over your body. “No, I was…too excited to see you, I guess. Didn’t want to change or grab my board.”

Johnny shot you a soft and tender smile. “You sure it wasn’t the beach calling your name? You always couldn’t wait to get down here.”

“I’m sure,” you replied, looking up at him.

“Next time then,” Johnny reassured you. “Missed having you out there with me.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. How was he so good at that? Johnny was too good at making you feel like mush and he didn’t even know it. It was no surprise so many of the people you hung out with growing up had a crush on him.

“Alright then, what are we waiting for?” Jaehyun shouted, raising his board high and running straight for the water. “First surf of the summer, let’s fucking goooooooo!” His loud voice faded out as he got deeper and deeper into the water.

Johnny’s large hand quickly ruffled your hair and you swatted his grip away, grumbling as you did so. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know either.” His overprotectiveness came into play. The warning was unnecessary, seeing how all the summer kids knew each other. It was like a big reunion every season, with parties and bonfires all around. Running into someone at the beach was far from surprising, in fact, it was expected.

You waved him away, already busying yourself by setting up your spot a bit further from where the sand met the sea. Your AirPods were out and your phone’s camera app opened up, ready to take pictures of the beautiful scenery and your boys. “Stop worrying, I’ll be right here. Go.”

Johnny left, but not before giving you a little shove to the side of your head. You snapped multiple pictures of his back as he ran to his board with Jaehyun already riding a wave in the background. The sun was beginning to set, making the skyline the perfect backdrop for your pictures. Waiting for the next wave to hit, they sat on their boards. At one point, they shifted to wave at you, and being the person you were, you took more candids of them and sent it to the group chat with your parents.

You slipped on your AirPods and continued onto a new chapter of the audiobook you started on your road trip here. The waves were loud enough to hear through your headset and the orange sun didn't blind you as much with Jaehyun’s sunglasses resting on your nose. This was the perfect way to spend your first day back at Neiho.

With the amazing weather, the two best boys in the entire world, and the prettiest beach you have ever laid eyes on, this was going to be the best summer ever. It had to be. It was the summer before your last year of university. After graduation, your whole life could and would change. And you, as headstrong as you were, wanted this to be the perfect summer.

The summer of all summers.

The summer you would remember forever.

LIFEGUARD'S NOTICE BOARD. Hi y'all. This fic has been on the backburner for a while and I've slowly started to pick it back up again. This is only the first scene in the grande scheme of things that idk will ever be completed BUT it was too good to keep in the drafts! Tell me what you think: are you Team Johnny or Team Jaehyun?

TAGLIST. (tagging anyone who is on my gen taglist and people i talked to about this fic!) @johtenrecs @justalildumpling @bat-shark-repellant @bebsky @smileysuh @smileyerim @taelme @moonctzeny @lebrookestore @baekhyuns-lipchain @donutswithjaminthemiddle @ahcaratzen @espresseo-cafe @turtash @ravenjoongie @omlhyuck @cryingforjae

#johnny fic #johnny imagines #johnny x reader #johnny scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader

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