#a ticking time bomb of a joke.

[ancientbygone]

shall we renounce

from where we've come

and who we were?

[simcardiac-arrested]

can we talk about no way back. hi . Hello ! i want to talk about this (-1 HP) drawing (-1 HP) that you've made (-1 HP)(-1 HP)(-1 HP)

Hi. um. what if the cracks started showing

[cuteniarose]

tell us abt the stuff on the wheel plz!

Okay tbh there isn’t really much to tell since it’s just a meme about how quickly my brain jumps between ideas but I can give some insight as to what those ideas are!!

Kuviren – Okay this is the one instance where I can’t tell you what these ideas are since Tumblr would nerf me immediately for voicing them. Classified information between Kat and me only, sorry. I am probably gonna keep working on my sapphic week prompts that I had to postpone bc some stuff came up though, most likely on Thursday when I’ll be bored at my grandma’s, but we’ll see

Sweet baby Ehuang – Ironically, less her and more her siblings who we’re in the process of finally creating properly. We still have names, exact ages and backstories to figure out, after which I can start on the designs, but we did finally settle on genders and a few tiny details here and there (including an idea that was immediately scrapped because Nia’s internalised fatphobia is a huge trigger now that won’t let them create fat characters, apparently 🫠 [/j, it's not that bad, I promise, the exact concept just hits way too close to home and I'm nowhere mentally stable enough to handle it])

Under the Oak’s Shade – Nothing much here, really, just a few passing concepts about Suiren growing up in the healing hut helping out her grandma, because I’m very, very soft for that idea and need more of it in my life (also I somehow ended up listening to parts of the Moana soundtrack today and there are VIBES there, okay?)

NWT Shenanigans – This is just pure unabashed escapism fantasy because Alasie might as well be my self insert lmao. One must imagine being gently taken care of by a beautiful older woman with no expectation of anything romantic or sexual, it’s good for the soul and definitely has nothing to do with my very prominent mommy issues

Zaheer’s fucked up family – Actually, Zaheer plays no part in this at all since he bailed on said fucked up family at age 12. Go away Zaheer no one likes you /hj. I’m currently going absolutely balls off the wall insane about one of his sisters finally hitting her lowest point and thus, as the quote goes, being open to the greatest change, and I am very much not exaggerating here, I am this close to actually physically screaming about it. Working on an art piece about her right now and it’s hitting right in the feels :(

Various other AUs – Now this just depends on my mood, really. Feeling very soft – Ultimate AU, angsty – Sacrifice AU, childhood obsession resurfaces – Mermaid AU, want giant spirit kite shenanigans – Avatar Suiren AU, etc etc. it’s called the multiverse of madness for a reason, you know?

[suksatoru]

kiss it better; k. bakugo

you forgot to give katsuki his good morning kiss—and he is not happy about it.

pairing: katsuki bakugo x you!

Your boyfriend is fuming—steam coming out of his head, red in the face type of fuming. You can see him in the corner of your eye, burning a hole into the side of your head. The pencil he was holding as he did his homework snapped in half within an instant.

You furrow your brows in concern, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him this time. He looked like a ticking time bomb—as if he would implode any moment. You send your boyfriend a small frown, and mouth 'what?' but he merely grits his teeth, grabbing a new pencil from his backpack as he turns his back to you and scribbles away at his work—ignoring you completely.

You pout when he turns away from you, and Mina pokes you with the end of her pen as she laughs.

"What's he whining about this time?" She questions, and you can see the muscles in Katsuki's back tense up—you know he wants to turn around and snap back, but he remains still, peering down at the math worksheet in front of him with a clenched jaw.

"I don't know. But—he might be hungry!" You say, digging into your backpack to find one of his snacks as Mina's eyes light with amusement.

"Hangry." She jokes, and you suppress your laughter for your boyfriend's sake as you approach his desk with apple slices in hand—freshly cut by your loving hands this morning and packed into a little orange zippy bag.

"Kats," You singsong, sitting in the empty seat beside him as you hold out his apple slices with a smile. He turns around with a scowl, but his eyes soften just the slightest bit when he sees you brought him something to eat. Unfortunately, they harden once again as he turns away from you.

"I'm not hungry, you idiot. Do you need help with the homework, or something? I know how much your dumbass struggles with linear equations." He mumbles—and your eyes light up at his words

"Nope! I did it all by myself today, Kats! And I think I did good..." You say, lost in thought as he grumbles something under his breath

"What was that?" You say, opening the ziplock bag and taking out an apple slice—you feed it to him, and he chomps down fast—nearly taking your finger off in the process.

"Ah!" You shriek, leaning backwards in your seat as you laugh—oh, he was very cranky about something this morning.

"Seems to me like you don't need me anymore." He states, voice gruff as he continues doing out the math problem in front of him. You blink in surprise, putting his snack down onto the table before you place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What makes you think that?" You ask, gently rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades and neck as he subconsciously leans into your touch. You always knew where his body ached the most —and your gentle hands always soothed the pain behind his skin that no one else couldn't reach.

"You know why," He sighs, and you shake your head no as he lets out an even louder sigh

"You didn't give me my good morning kiss." He mutters quietly, staring at the ground with furrowed brows as you let out a thoughtful "ah."

"Well, if that's the case..." You start, quickly checking your surroundings to ensure no one was looking—before you pecked his lips as quickly as you possibly could. Katsuki doesn't even have time to blink before you pull away with a laugh, walking back to your seat beside Mina as you send him a playful glance over your shoulder

Unfortunately, you made the mistake of believing your stubborn boyfriend would be satisfied by just that.

He's stomping over to you—and Mina can barely even get out a warning for you to duck from the crazy blonde marching your way before he grabs hold of both of your cheeks and pulls you into a kiss—pressing his mouth hard against yours as you let out a squeal of protest, trying to push him off as his friends laughter echoes through the room.

He pulls away after a few seconds—his lips tilting into a slanted smirk at the flustered look on your face before it disappears as he turns towards his cackling friends. Without another word—Katsuki stomps back to his desk and sits down, continuing his work as if nothing happened while you sit still in your seat, quite literally stunned into silence.

"Hey! That's the first time I've seen him kiss you, Y/n! I didn't know he knew how to love a woman right, but I'm glad to see it!" Kirishima exclaims with a sharp grin and you cover your face with a groan. Bakugo barks out a laugh from across the classroom at his words—at the nerve.

"Of fucking course I know how to love her right, you moron! No one does it better than me, and that's a fact!"

No one disagrees with him. And it's only a few minutes later when he's walking back to you with much calmer steps—muttering a quiet thank you for the apples slices.

Yeah, he was a handful, but there was no doubt that he was all yours.

[taelophone]

Poolboy ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ TWs: Frat Boys™ . Reader never catches a break like once . Reader is the Phi-Si sweetheart . Slight Angst (?) . Porn w Plot . Penetration . ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ this fic is literally 6k words. bye.

What happens when you take one young woman, cram her into a frat group chat, and send her off on a summer vacation with said frat?

Hoots of joy and teal water splashing from the deep ends of the pool sounded against your eardrum as you flipped through a 2005 Vogue magazine. You had just arrived at your frat brother's summer villa, courtesy of Carson’s rich father.

You were the sweetheart of Phi Kappa Psi, a title you don’t even recall earning before being dragged along by your foot by a bunch of techy dudebros with a strange fixation for beer and computer science. More times than not, you felt like you were babysitting toddlers who treated their lives like toys they could fix.

When things went wrong and the brothers began to fight, you’d hear your name being shouted in deep whiny tones before two or more men would approach you with annoyed expressions. Heads tilted up, shoulders slouched, and their hands stuffed in their hoodie pockets before angrily talking over each other about whatever they were mad about.

What children.

But besides being the driving force for many makeups and peacekeeping, you valued your brothers deeply. Perhaps that was why they dragged you along by your unwilling ankles— because they knew you’d cave eventually…or they could just kidnap you.

Kidding! They’re not. It was a joke until you felt 5 pairs of hands dragging you out of your little apartment room while all clamoring about a chapter retreat and how they needed you to tag along.

So now you’re sitting on a scorching hot chaise recliner with a little glass full of some sort of alcoholic bomb that was probably mixed in a bathtub over seven thousand kilometers away from home.

You watched as each of them splashed around in the pool, their shouts of joy filling the air as they did their best to drown the person nearest to them. Empty beer bottles clanked and collided together in the pool water, the grace of god keeping them from shattering and raining hell on the impish boys.

You turned your head around, ensuring things were alright at the grill as saw two shirtless brothers named  Logan and James manned the grill with plastic tongs and debated whether or not to pour another bottle of bear on the brisket.

“Yo!” A loud voice said, cutting through the noisy chaos as he adjusted his black and grey baseball cap. “We found a fat fuckin’ stack of Playboy mags in the basement by the bar. Don’t start running or we’ll all know you’re a virgin.”

A wave of tame laughter washed over the young men before the splashing and thrashing went back to normal. You counted the amount in the pool, ticking off each head of black, blonde, or brunette before you realized you were missing at least one brother.

You sat up, immediately shifting your sunglasses to rest on your head and doing another head count. But the question remained; Where’s Luigi?

Luigi was arguably the most level-headed of the frat or at least the one with a prefrontal cortex that hadn’t been completely damaged by alcohol poisoning. But boy, that man could drink.

“Hey guys, I’m gonna go look for Luigi. Please chill, don’t kill each other. And clean the pool, please, that’s fucking disgusting” you sighed, tucking your sunglasses between the stretchy black fabric and your heated skin.

You stood up, fixing your hair a little and making sure your baby hairs didn’t look fuzzy and crazy before waltzing into the large, neoclassical villa in pursuit of the missing man. On your way through the hall, you caught sight of 4 men standing in a circle around a TV with beers in their hands while completely entranced with some hallmark movie that they more than likely rented.

“Hunter!” You called before grimacing at the amount of beer cans that littered the floor.

The group of boys whirled their heads, facing you for half a second before the raven-haired boy mumbled a “yeah?” from his television-fueled trance. You toddled up behind them, peering above their shoulders so you could see what they were watching.

A Paris Proposal. On the Hallmark channel.

You bit back a laugh, watching their eyes lock themselves into the terrible acting like it was a gift from the heavens. They were locked in— watching in complete silence with slightly parted lips.

“Have you seen Luigi?” You asked, your brows pinching together in confusion before you turned to face Hunter.

“Uhhh…He was just playing foosball with Brennan a while ago…He should be down in the basement still,” he mumbled, not even sparing you a second glance as he watched the television with pin-straight posture.

“Thanks,” you said, making your way out of the large living room and sliding down the hall on some random white caster board lying around the smooth, glossy hardwood floors. You wobbled side to side, your ankles doing all of the work before you hopped off the board in front of the basement stairs. 

When you reached the bottom of the basement stairs, you were greeted by only four brothers. Two at the foosball table, and two fighting for dominance over a Ms. Pac-Man arcade machine. But still no sign of Luigi.

“Hey, guys. Have any of you seen Luigi?” You asked, stopping at the side of the Foosball table to watch Anthony and Israel begin to sweat from manning each handle and rod.

“He’s in the back playing pool by himself. He’s being weird, he won’t talk to us. I think he had his AirPods in but we couldn’t see cuz he wouldn’t take that fuck ass Adidas hoodie off,” Anthony mumbled, looking up from the playing field for half a second before Israel shot a speeding goal into the open space between his second goal of players.

“DUDE! What the FUCK, bro!” He groaned, slamming his fist down onto the table.

You stifled a giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground as you folded your hands together and made your way to the back of the basement. Back past the bar, you passed a group of men huddled together reading some sort of magazine.

 The further back you moved, the more the background noise seemed to fade away into a quiet buzz. Soon you made it to the pool room, the walls decorated with various sports memorabilia and jerseys signed by deceased football players.

When you heard the dull marbled noise of phenolic resin knocking against each other, you saw the familiar deep brown curls leaning over the pool table with a smooth pool cue between his thumb, pointer, and middle finger—the hold of a closed bridge.

 He was focused, his hoodie up over his head as his eyes darted across the green fabric in a search for the best way to get all object balls in each hole. You tapped his shoulder, giving him a gentle indication of your presence before he turned his head in your direction.

His eyes were still trained on the pool table, almost like he was in some kind of stupor. He hummed, a low acknowledgment of your presence as he continued to ponder his next move across the table.

“I saw that you weren’t outside. Couldn’t find you so I wanted to make sure you were good,” you said, your hands resting on the reddish mahogany.

He paused, darting his pupils up in thought before he cleared his throat and turned to face you fully.

“Sorry…I was really focused. Yeah, I’m okay,” he nodded, leaning his pool cue against the table and crossing his arms. “The noise was just too much for me.”

You nodded in understanding, the epiphany sinking in as you crossed your arms against your chest as well. To say outside was overstimulating was an understatement— everything in the world seemed to be happening at once in such a short amount of time.

“Yeah, that’s…valid,” you said, a hand coming up to your forehead as you gently caressed the wrinkles that formed as you raised your brows.

“If you want, like…space, I guess? I could go back upstairs or try and get like…the guys out of the basement. Or you could go upstairs, but I’m sure there’s at least someone upstairs,” you offered, propping yourself up on the pool table to give your aching ankles a break.

“Nah it’s fine…you can stay, I was getting bored,” he murmured, picking up his pool cue once more and bringing his attention back to his solo pool match.

You nodded, clearing away from the pool table to drag a stool over to your semi-quiet corner of the basement. He seemed content with just sitting in silence while you watched him play, and It was honestly better this way, as he wasn’t completely alone and he had someone else to talk to.

“Did you know that the color goes all the way through the resin? It’s not just on the surface,” he murmured, holding up the blue ten-billiard ball.

“I didn’t know that actually…that’s pretty cool,” you nodded, a fraction of a second passing before the voices from the game room began to get a little too loud, indicating a festering fight between someone that you’d ultimately have to mediate or stop entirely.

“Okay, I’m so sorry, I have to go. If they break shit we’re all getting banned and I actually like this villa, have fun!” You scrambled, nearly falling off of your stool as you zoomed towards the conflict.

He watched as you toddled away, giggling under his breath at your panicked expression and the way you stumbled a little as you got up from your seat. Adorable— like a clumsy little bunny struggling to find their footing while it ran through a field.

Albeit a sticky, beer-coated field full of bottles and shiny with pool water. But it’s ok, global warming will get us there in 50 years or less.

After a long day of mediating ear-piercing petty fights between the brothers over the stupidest things— like who keeps drinking all the beer or whose turn it is to take out the trash, the sun began to say his goodbyes as he dipped between the trees and the hills to make way for his wife of the night. 

Her big, gaudy, and full being slowly began to rise, bringing her many twinkling sons with her while kissing the day goodnight. Now, the only source of illumination was the thick veils of pale white light shining over the calm black waters of the pool.

Some brothers found themselves unconscious at the poolside, the Natural Light brand beer knocking their lights out as the alcohol kissed the surface of their medullas. Some found themselves passed out on the patio chairs, too tired to even get up and migrate to the warm villa.

Shirts were strewn about, followed by a shoe now and again, and the usual loud yells of freedom and joy seemed to quell into snores that were almost as loud as their triumphs over the skies. When you verified that everyone was okay and nobody had overdone it, you snapped a picture of everyone’s sleeping forms. 

A core piece of your memory that you had managed to capture in the small confines of a digital screen.

You made your way back inside, upstairs and to the left in pursuit of the large room you secured for just existing amongst the sea of men. You gathered your little shower crate of things, your pink and fuzzy Ralph Lauren bathrobe, and your dental care before making your way into the bathroom to have a hot shower.

The gentle droplets ran down your skin, freeing your body from any early morning grime or lingering dead skin. Soft soapy suds cleansed your soul, relaxing the tangled and knotted wires in your mind as you took a quiet moment to process.

With the rough layer of your sleepless morning freshly shed, you stepped out of the shower feeling fresh and new. You brushed your teeth, finished your skincare, and detangled your hair before putting it into two braids so you could manage it in the morning.

Your head finally hit your pillow, the cozy silk cooling the side of your face as you closed your eyes, ready to repeat the morning in just a few hours.

And oh boy, did it repeat.

Before your eyes could even crack open, you heard the low murmurs of multiple men as they discussed if they should wake you up or if they should just order food. As soon as your eyes opened, ripe annoyance bloomed at your temples as you saw six pairs of eyes staring back down at you.

“What the actual fuck,” you sighed, watching as they stared down at you like some sort of foreign object.

“Can you make us pancakes?” Brennan asked, eliciting nods and murmurs of approval from the other young men around him.

“What…pancakes—what the fuck are you…no. No, I cannot make you pancakes. Go door dash or something,” you huffed, sitting up and rubbing your eyes before stretching the drowsiness away.

There was a loud conjoined sound of disapproval, swears, and murmurs of “I told you it wouldn’t fucking work” as they all filed out of your room one by one.

You got up following their absence, throwing on a pink zip-up hoodie, a white tank top, and some pink fuzzy shorts. Once you were ready for the morning, you made your way downstairs to greet the survivors of last night.

Once unconscious, twice dead, and three times the headache as they all recovered on the couch, all occupying the living room while watching some sports channel.

Somewhere between the lines of you starting the sleek, smooth, and electric stove in the kitchen, the pack of animals that sat on the floor of the living room decided to all go on a morning run to get breakfast. Leaving you with the whole villa to yourself for about two or three hours.

You made yourself a stack of 3 fat pancakes with a side of scrambled egg whites with American cheddar and herbs. Wait, where are the plates, maybe they broke them when—

THUD!

What. The. FUCK.

You whirled your head around, your neck jetting out to find the source of the noise while you held onto the wooden handle of the metal spatula.

Silence. Thick and heavy…impenetrable as you stood amongst the quiet kitchen. The longer you stood, the heavier it got.

Until Luigi emerged from upstairs, sporting a tired and pained expression with a hand pressed to the side of his face. It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together— Luigi had fallen out of bed.

“Morning…” he rasped, immediately making his way to the kitchen digging in the massive cooler, and placing a cold can of beer on the side of his face.

You watched in slight concern, scanning his features to check for any visible bruises before returning his greeting with a quiet “good morning” of your own. 

“Where’d they all go?” He asked, scanning over your form as you cut strawberries into hearts to put on your pancakes.

“They went on a run. And then they’re gonna go get breakfast cuz I told them I wasn’t gonna cook for them,” you murmured, popping a sliver of sweet strawberry into your mouth.

“Oh. Damn…” he sighed, looking down at his feet with a slight pout.

“They literally just left like twenty minutes ago, but I can make you something. I’d rather cook for one person than like thirty,” you shrugged, giggling at the cutely shaped berries on your plate.

“Actually…” you murmured, pulling out a second plate and adding one of your three pancakes onto the plate along with some of your scrambled egg whites.

“Your protein intake must be in the negatives…” he chuckled, graciously accepting the white and square porcelain plate from your hands. “No meat, no egg yolk, no protein shake.”

“God forbid a girl makes a meal to her tastes,” you sighed, rolling your eyes before adding honey and light syrup to your pancakes. “Frat boys and their fuckin’ protein talk…”

You snorted, a smirk on your face as you began to eat your pancakes while using your free hand to fill a mug full of the only non-alcoholic substance in the house. Skim milk.

“Sorry, that’s my bad,” he chuckled, removing the near-frosted beer can from the side of his face and flicking open the tab with his teeth. He chugged most of the can in one go before setting it on the counter and crushing it with a flex of his forearm.

“Thank you for the food. You didn’t have to share, that was really nice,” he smiled, pulling open the utensil drawer in the counter, pulling out just a fork before digging into his soft and fluffy strawberry pancakes. 

You nodded, giving him a thankful smile as you finished your breakfast together in silence.

If you had to choose between any of the brothers, you’d choose Luigi without a doubt. Not only was he respectful and actually used his brilliant mind, he seemed to have an almost intimate amount of compassion for you.

Way before the title of sweetheart and the pledges of Phi Kappa Si, Luigi was just some dork who you hung out with in your dorm room. Cooped up with your knees to your chest, you would sit with a couple of friends and just chat back and forth about whatever came to mind.

Life, intimacy, Italy, the green Luigi, different types of Pokémon, and various types of plants. When your time wasn’t always occupied by someone else, or when it wasn’t weird to be alone together, your quiet bond had the potential to sprout into red roses of intimacy.

Over time you had grown closer with shared laughs and stupid inside jokes. Back-and-forth banter grew casually sexual, heavy innuendos slipped from both of your lips with even heavier eye contact with every word.

There were days when you’d find yourself on his flexed thigh, just sitting there and doing nothing but holding a casual conversation. Those were the days of your early freshman and sophomore college journey.

But now you had your foot out the door— freshly graduated with both feet on a rocky path to independence. Luigi no longer was your flirty best friend who carried the weight of your deepest testaments, but just another acquaintance in the frat you monitored.

It was upsetting, of course, but things change and people can grow apart with time. It seemed as though that was just what happened between you and Luigi. 

“Don’t drink that, it’s got spit in it,” Luigi warned, nodding his head upward subtly as you went to take a sip of your skim milk. Your eyes ran over the clear glass, a grimace forming on your face as you pushed it away from you.

“Do we not have water?” You asked, crossing your arms and setting your plate down on the counter next to Luigi’s.

“Nah… just get some from the sink,” he shrugged, scraping the remnants of his breakfast from the plate and shoving it into his mouth like a human garbage disposal.

After all, his name meant big eater. He seemed to live up to the name.

“Embodying your last name I see…” you joked, your eyes flicking back and forth between his plate and his face, his lips slightly glossy with the honey, syrup, and the blood of strawberries on his bottom lip.

“Absolutely… All I heard growing up was,” he began, pausing to let his tongue dart out to clean his plush and pink bottom lip.

 “Mangia, mangia! Sei troppo magro!” He recited, his tone growing a bit smoother following the sudden switch of his tongue. Italian— the romantic language of southern Europe, where the towers lean and the men preen.

Your eyes fought the urge to widen as shock and slight arousal flooded your mind— his boyish giggles following his wave of authentic nostalgia were the sweetest hymns of joy. His voice was already attractive, but nothing was more sexy than a man who knew his native tongue.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian…” you said, failing to mask the slight breathiness in your tone as you clumsily slotted your dirty dishes into the sink, the honey-maple and strawberry residue falling atop Luigi’s plate with a loud clink that almost made you jump.

“Really? I thought I told you…” he hummed, his brows raising a fraction as he stared down at you. He leaned back, his palms gently gripping the edge of the marbled counter as he kicked a foot back. “I probably didn’t, actually…I don’t speak it often.”

You hummed, tilting your head to the side slightly as you traced the outer shell of your ear to calm your nerves. 

“Wait, say something else” you asked.

“That’s exactly why I don’t,” he chuckled, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“C’mon, please?” You smiled. “I’ve gotta hear it from you now.”

He sighed sarcastically— a long, drawn-out, and heavy gust of sweet wind from his lungs as he rolled his eyes as far as his sockets would allow with a smirk.

“Only because I love you,” he chuckled. “Farei qualsiasi cosa per te, ama. Sei così carina.”

It was like a pink and gaudy glass pane shattered into a thousand glimmering little pieces— slicing through your mind as you replayed the words again and again in your mind. You had no idea what it was he said, but it sounded so good coming from his mouth.

From his little proclamation of loving you, clear evidence that the spark between the two of you still flickered with the flames of burning fascination, to the quick work his tongue made enunciating his Italian dialect. Everything about this moment was intoxicatingly attractive.

“What does that mean?” You asked, an innocent tilt of your head as he chuckled at you.

“It means you have a really big forehead and your little frog face is cute,” he joked, stretching his arms up a little to alleviate some of the tension stored in his spine.

In that moment you stopped to admire what he was wearing— a navy blue zip-up hoodie and black sweatpants with a white drawstring. When he stretched his hoodie traveled up a bit, revealing his defined V-line and trimmed happy trail.

Good fucking god this man is so hot.

You cleared your throat, pulling down his hoodie before he finished stretching with a chuckle.

“Whore. Cover your midriff, slut,” you joked, giving him a disapproving glare and a tut-tut-tut of your tongue.

“Slutshaming me for stretching is crazy,” he laughed, a gentle furrow of his brows as he bonked your head gently with his large hand. “C’mon, let’s go play pool.”

You chuckled, holding onto his arm gently like it was a natural reaction. Cold nostalgia flooded your brain, the light and freezing liquid invading every crevice of your brain as the memories of long nights spent holed together in a dingy old dorm that had seen its fair share of emotions.

“What is it with you and pool?” You sighed, still following him through the kitchen and down to the game room anyway.

“Pool,” he began, his head leaning forward a bit as if it was helping him enunciate his words. “Is like chess. I like thinking about what I can do before I do it…helps me focus and it’ll help me think critically later in life.”

You nodded, chatting away with Luigi about pool and different types of ways to hold a pool cue as you ran your manicured nails along the walls. The drywall made its parched and scratchy sounds under your nails, the stimulation ceasing as you withdrew your fingers from the wall and greeted the pool table once again.

“I feel the need to tell you now that I don’t know how to play pool,” you blurted, picking up a pool cue in your dominant hand and tapping it on the floor twice for good luck.

“It’s okay, I’ll show you,” he smiled, tossing his cue back and forth between each of his large palms before it settled in his left hand.

He lifted the triangle from the object balls carefully, making sure each one was in place before beckoning you to come closer to the table. You obliged, quickly slinking your way beside Luigi.

“So hold it with your right hand…yeah, like that. Then you put it over your thumb…mhm… and bring your pointer finger up,” he instructed, his hand ghosting over yours to correct any errors in your hold.

“And then lean over and push the cue forward” he nodded.

You leaned forward, your hips awkwardly hitting the table as your pool cue missed the very thing you were aiming at. Oops.

Luigi choked back a loud laugh, turning around to face the wall and taking a deep breath before sighing with a wide grin. When he calmed down, he turned back around and placed his arm over yours, his hand wrapping around your wrist as his chest pressed against your back.

You could feel his body's warmth. If you focused hard enough, you were almost certain you could feel the steady thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat in his chest.

He leaned forward, taking you with him until your upper body was almost parallel to the grassy green fabric of the pool table. Your breath caught in your throat, and an fire crept up your cheeks as you tried not to inhale his scent like a weirdo.

Aftershave, nautical soap, and warm cotton.

“Like this, see?” He asked, driving your dominant hand forward to hit the object ball. “If you don’t lean forward you’re gonna miss your shot. It makes everything so much easier when you’re just starting.”

As Luigi forced your arm forward, helping you hit the cue ball again and again, you swear you could feel his crotch brush against the fat of your ass once or twice. A sign you hoped you weren’t overlooking.

“What’ya doing back there?” You mused— a light and flirtatious tone to your words that he could easily shoot down if he wanted to. But the thing about Luigi and his sneaky self…is he didn’t want to.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he chuckled, his hands snaking their way down to your gentle hip bones as he leaned up off of you. You missed the warmth of his chest on your spine already, longing to bask in his layered scent once again. 

“I think you do, but that’s okay,” you chuckled,  dropping your hold on your pool cue to wrap your hand around Luigi’s instead, lacing your fingers together. “You’ve never been a liar, don’t start now.”

He chuckled, guiding your hips back and forth against the steadily rising tent in his sweatpants. Of course— he was fake-banging you while giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“Luigi, you're acting like a middle schooler… don’t be crude,” you chuckled with a light eye roll.

He laughed in response, shaking his head free of his immature thoughts as he gave a final sigh. He ceased his movement against your behind, his heavy palms rubbing up and down your sides with the feather-light touch of all the saints above.

How he wanted to ravage you whole, they’d have to cover their little cherub eyes with the soft feathers of their wings while their hands covered their mouths to muffle their scandalized gasps. The heavens would tremble with each loud little whine and moan he’d pull from you that echoed up to the skies.

“I’d do you so dirty on this pool table…” he murmured, more or so to himself as his hands came to squeeze your hips possessively.

You hummed, poking your hips back against him as your nails traced random shapes into the green fabric. You heard him sigh, deep and heavy as he suddenly went still.

“Now you’re just being a brat,” he chuckled, pulling at the fabric of your shorts. “This okay? We can stop if you want—“

“Do not,” You began, gripping his wrist with the force of an agitated bull, red and fiery with lust and want. “Stop. Keep going.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled, his hand hooking into your shorts and sliding the pretty pink fabric down your knees.

“Pretty…” he murmured to himself, running the pad of his thumb down the soft cotton fabric of your panties.

You shuddered a bit at the scandalous contact, the gentle but firm touch sending sparks of electricity across the planes of your skin. He was so deliberate with every touch to your body…almost like he had years of practice.

Which you knew wasn’t true, as he had only been with roughly two people across his lifespan. As tragic as it was to admit out loud, Luigi was just really really good with anything involving his hands.

He earned a quiet whine from your soft lips, your hands dropping your pool cue clumsily as it clattered on the hardwood floors. Your hands gripped the edge of the pool table, the cherry-tinted dark wood as he continued to fidget with your achy clit through the fabric.

“Luigi…” you sighed, your brows furrowing with frustration and light taps of euphoria. “Stop teasing, you’re being evil.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he purred, an impish smile on his face that you wished you could see. He lowered his sweatpants, just enough for his rigid and raging bulge to become visible from the thin cloth of his boxers.

He chuckled, the sound ruminating deep in his chest as he gently pressed his sheathed bludgeon against you, rocking you back and forth along his length with small sighs and quiet whines. He could feel your pretty panties dampening with his slow and deliberate thrusts, a knowing smirk forming on his cherub cheeks.

“You better pray the guys don’t come back soon…” he laughed, freeing his girthy dick from his boxers, the shiny pearls of precum dribbling down the grapefruit-pink tip onto the floor.

He hooked his fingers in your panties, pulling them down with angelic affection before he bumped his fat tip against your glistening cunt. Sticky, sloppy, short-lived noises reverberated through the game room, bouncing off the walls and striking your eardrums with sin.

“Sorry,” he murmured, an apology that confused you slightly as he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Just like rain, designed to warn you of lightning that would leave you cowering and trembling with its loud cracks of thunder, you failed to heed the warning he gave you.

He pushed in, eliciting a sharp inhale filtered by his teeth. He was huge and thick like the fat beer bottles that lay stagnant on the floor in various locations in the house.

You yelped a little, the mix of precum and slick doing little to nothing to aid the stretch as he speared you apart and filled you up. It took everything in you not to kick your legs as he slowly slotted himself between you.

“Aww, it’s okay…I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he cooed, gently holding your hand as you squeezed around him— both your hand and your cunt.

You moaned out, broken and dissonant as you pressed your free hand to your mouth like your life depended on it. Even though you were pretty sure everyone was out of the house, you didn’t want to wake up any potential late sleepers who could very much still be two floors up.

“Ah, no,” Luigi said, withdrawing your hand from over your mouth. “Don’t do that, get loud…let the world know who’s sweetheart you really are…”

He began moving, his hips moving against yours slowly. He could feel you soaking your inner thighs and his dick, the slick and slippery sounds growing louder as he began to piston in and out of you with increasing speed.

You could feel him abusing that spongy spot deep in your core, dragging across the inside of you and sending sparks of electricity through your veins. Each breathy moan and whine he pulled from you only served as motivation to keep him going, postponing his hips against yours like a fervent bull.

By now you should be embarrassed; the table beneath you had begun to subtly rock with the force of his thrusts, your arms were trembling, and your face was pressed into the green fabric of the playing field as pathetically loud moans spilled from you. 

“Tight—! God, you’re squeezing me I can barely fucking move..” he grunted, putting in extra work to refrain from squeezing your hand hard enough to fracture your bones. He huffed above you, deep moans of his own escaping from the back of his throat.

There was a whiny and high tone in his words like an angel crying above you as he sucked in deep breaths of air that only satiated him until the next. The frequency of your moans grew as the knot in the pit of your stomach began to tighten, warning you of your looming orgasm.

“Close…!” You whimpered. If it wasn’t for Luigi’s strength, or maybe the added support of the pool table, you were positive your legs would have buckled and given out a long time ago.

“I know,” he purred, his free hand coming up to your neck and gently squeezing around its sides.

It wasn’t long until your limbs seemed to lock up— ice froze your limbs in place as your lower legs kicked in place. With a loud moan, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you painted the man behind you with a pretty shade of white.

Oh my god, he isn’t slowing down.

Your eyes shot open as quickly as they could when you felt his chest lean against your back again, his low grunting in your ear as he continued to fuck into you. He kissed your temple, muttering soft “I’m sorry, baby’s” into your right ear as your moans began to grow hoarse and whiny.

“I’m so sorry…you feel too fuckin’ good, you can give me another, right?” He coaxed, turning your face toward his with a firm hand on your jaw. 

You were panting, all in your fucked-out glory as your eyes welled with salty tears; a testament to your overstimulated arousal. He had never seen something so beautiful in his life.

From what you could see through your fogged and warbled vision, his nose was an affectionate rose. Rouge and rampant with his rough thrusts, the stimulation was driving you more insane than you swore you were.

You reached back, weakly pushing at his toned pelvis in a last-ditch effort to save yourself some dignity.

“Move your hand,” he instructed, his eyes staring sternly into yours as he slowed his near cervix-bruising pace.

“Too much…too much, can’t—…Can’t take it” you babbled, not even sure if that was what came out of your mouth. Your brain was much too foggy to process words, much less say them.

“You’re going to take it though,” he cooed, letting go of your jaw and standing up straight, instantly revoking his body heat from your back.

He grabbed your wrists with his large hand, keeping them still above the curve of your behind. Seeing his large hand restraining your smaller ones unearthed a strange fuzz in his mind that sent his dick twitching madly, triggering a strained string of profanities to fly from his lips.

His muscles and bones tensed up, the veins in his hands and arms flexing slightly as he stilled. Being aroused hadn’t rendered him stupid, though, and with a grunt of your name, he pulled out of you and spilled hot and sticky ropes of cum all over your behind.

You yelped, immediately whining as he fucked you into a twitchy and sensitive second orgasm, a shaky breath pulling from your lips as you went limp on the pool table.

“You sound pretty, too.”

[neocitylights]

SUMMARY: Giving in to your boss relentless matchmaking attempts, you’re not sure what to expect upon agreeing to finally meet her son, Donghyuck, at the company’s upcoming Halloween party. Unsure if you’re even ready for a relationship, you also might still be a little too caught up by Haechan, an insufferable but charming one-night fling that keeps asking you out despite your refusals. There’s one thing you’re sure about—life is a funny thing, but yours definitely feels like a cosmic joke sometimes. GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, one night stand au, strangers to lovers WORD COUNT: 12k WARNINGS: Cursing, suggestive themes, implied sexual content

NOTES: Omg hi neocitylights second fic!! Please let me know what you think!! It’s gonna make my day!!

At first, it reads off as a simple, innocent email from your boss.

As you’d volunteered to help Mrs. Lee organize the company’s annual Halloween party, the first few paragraphs seem harmless enough—reading through the details of potential venues, catering options and decoration palettes selected by her, it truly is a simple, innocent email from your boss… until it isn’t. 

Scanning the words for one last time, a sigh escapes from your lips as you hit her last lines.

Also, don’t forget that I can’t wait for you to finally meet my son at the party! I’m sure that he’ll be delighted to meet you.  

You’ve been working for Mrs. Lee for a little over a year by now and for the best part of it, her persistent matchmaking attempts for her son, Donghyuck, have been targeting you. It’s become a running joke around the small office, especially since every other week Mrs. Lee makes it a point to note how ‘absolutely perfect’ her son would be for you, and how he ‘knows all about you already’. 

Though you’ve always taken it with stride, laughing it off whenever she mentions him, Mrs. Lee never wavered from her scheme.

Besides the fact that Donghyuck is absolutely adored by his mother, you don’t know much about him other than his name and a few bits and pieces of information very purposefully provided by your boss. 

Oh, he’s a very smart boy. Yes, Donghyuck is a little ambitious, you know. He’s been single for a while.

Admittedly, the idea of dating your boss’ son seems like a ticking bomb waiting to explode, but since Mrs. Lee is one of the sweetest people you’ve met in life, it’s only fair to at least assume that she’s raised a decent guy.

Now that the party’s coming up, there’s no real way out of it. 

If you’re being honest, your love life has been a little lacking lately. Given work and your busy routine, there hasn’t been much time to think about anything but crossing off the next item of your daily to-do list. Apart from the monthly team meeting with your co-workers and an occasional dinner out with your roommate or uni friends, the most action you’ve gotten recently is Haechan’s casual, annoyingly charming texts.

It’s funny to think about it now—the guy was supposed to be a one-time thing, just a night to blow off some steam after a long week. 

In a way, he still is. 

You hadn’t expected much after exchanging numbers at the doorstep of his apartment the next morning. 

Not being a stranger as to how one night stands work, you couldn’t help the surprise when his first text came through just a few hours later. Haechan still is a one-time thing, but he’d somehow turned out to be funny and entertaining enough to convince you to stay in touch with him despite the casualness of your encounter.

Toying with each other in a flirty, playful game, sometimes Haechan leaves you a little intrigued and maybe too willing for a second round… if only you didn’t have your work life to worry about, that is.

So for now, your work and love life are on completely separate tracks, even if Mrs. Lee’s been working a little too hard to blur the lines in between.

As you get home a few hours later than usual, brain scrambled in a mess of food menus and guest names, you give in to collapsing on the couch with Alia, who’s already halfway through a pint of ice cream and an episode of Sex Lives of College Girls.

“How was work?” Alia asks, a smirk creeping onto her face. “No offense, but you kinda look… rough.”

“No more than usual, I guess,” you sigh, side-eyeing your roommate for a second as you kick your heels off. “I mean, other than Mrs. Lee being over the moon that her son’s finally meeting me, it was just another day.”

Alia raises her eyebrows, a spoonful of ice cream hovering midway through her mouth. “Wait, is this really a thing? I thought you were joking whenever you mentioned her hyping up her son for you.”

“Donghyuck is very real, very single and apparently the perfect match for me.” You roll your eyes, a chuckle escaping from your lips. “He’s going to the party and she’s been mentioning it every single time she spots me around the office.”

“Damn,” Alia snorts, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she playfully nudges you. “Who would’ve thought you’d be your own boss’ daughter-in-law, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groan, cheeks instantly warming up at your roommate’s laugh. “I love Mrs. Lee to bits but I don’t even know the guy.”

“But you will,” Alia says, giving you a knowing look. “It could be fun, you know? Maybe he is all she’s made him up to be and he’ll be your soulmate or something.” 

You sigh, offering a pat to your friend’s thigh with an amused smile growing on your lips. “You’ve been reading too much booktok literature, Alia.”

As she grins in return, little did you know how stupidly right your roommate’s next words were.

“And you’ll live one, trust me.” 

The following weeks flew by, keeping you busy enough with last minute plan changes and impromptu hunts for a work function appropriate Halloween costume. Much to your concern and Alia’s amusement, Mrs. Lee’s enthusiasm over your potential meeting with her son didn’t falter, instead leaving all of your co-workers in a similar buzz as the party approached.

Now, as you adjust the pink vest of your Barbie costume under the orange lights currently decorating the venue, you can’t help but feel a little antsy. 

Especially after Mrs. Lee’s voice cuts through the crowd when calling your name.

Bracing yourself, you turn to find your boss striding towards you with a very familiar, eager gleam in her eyes. “Oh, there you are! Come on, I want to introduce you to someone!”

Mrs. Lee—who’s adorably dressed as Princess Leia—takes your arm, walking you through the crowd with such firm steps that you’d think that she’s waited her entire life for this exact moment. As fast as she guides you, your boss quickly comes to a stop by a group of her personal guests, who greet both of you with amused smiles. 

“Darling, he’s just over there speaking with a few family friends,” Mrs. Lee murmurs, her arm still intertwined with yours. “Go grab yourself a drink and I’ll bring him over in a moment, hm?”

“Sure thing,” you say, trying to sound casual enough to mask how dazed you are watching her disappear into the crowd again. 

A glass of wine later, the knot of expectation still sits in your stomach as you wait for them at the bar. Your eyes have been discreetly drifting over the room, anxiously anticipating the whirlwind that your boss will probably create for Donghyuck as soon as you’re within their sight. 

On top of the bar’s counter, your phone buzzes.

Haechan 9:34PM Tonight is the naughtiest night of the year Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want to see me today

Reading the texts, you couldn’t help laughing at his cheekiness. Sometimes it feels like Haechan has a knack for knowing the exact, most inappropriate moment to make himself known. Being as insufferable as he is, it’s truly a wonder how the guy still manages to be so attractive even through texts that can rival a frat boy.

Momentarily ignoring your nerves, you start typing a quick response. 

As you’re about to hit send, Mrs. Lee laugh hits your ears and you look up—

You blink, fingers hovering over the screen of your phone.

He’s standing right next to your boss, who has her arm around his and a smile as big as the sun on her face, clearly introducing him with an adoration you could feel from across the room. 

He as in freaking Haechan, the guy you were just about to text and the guy you have been texting ever since a one-night at his place months ago. Haechan as in Mrs. Lee’s infamous, perfect for you, son. 

Mrs. Lee finally catches your eyes, her face lighting up as she excitedly waves you over, the thrill of the moment thankfully leaving her oblivious to any signs of distress on your face. Heart drumming against your ears, you walk towards them with hesitant steps, still in disbelief over how absurd the entire situation is. 

With a hand on your back, Mrs. Lee pulls you closer with an expression that can only be described as triumphant. “Oh darling, I’d like you to meet my son, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck finally turns to you, his eyes immediately flickering in recognition as he takes in your entire figure, from the stupid white cowboy hat on your head to the high-heeled pointed boots. 

His face shifts, the brief flicker of surprise quickly getting replaced with amusement as he steps to stand by his mother’s side. 

“So this is my Donghyuck, like I told you all about,” your boss continues, a hand on his shoulder as she tells him your name, positively beaming. “You two will get along wonderfully, I just know it.”

Unbeknownst to Mrs. Lee, Donghyuck is clearly suppressing his own reaction as extends a hand out, lips twitching and eyes alight with mischief upon you. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he starts smoothly. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Mrs. Lee here.”

“Oh, likewise,” you respond, gaze narrowed as you take his hand in a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck.”

Despite the clear amusement on his face as you discreetly stress his apparent real name, Haechan still doesn’t seem to give any other reaction away to your boss. It’s infuriating how good he seems to be at… whatever ridiculous situation this is. Poor Mrs. Lee, still riding on the high of her most awaited matchmaking accomplishment, stays unaware of the simmering tension between you and her son. 

“I’ll leave you two to know each other, then,” she says, offering a cute wink before swiftly disappearing into the crowd as she’s done all night. 

As soon as his mother is out of earshot, Haechan drops the act, his face instantly breaking into a slow grin as he steps closer. “So my mom was right about knowing a girl who’s just perfect for me.”

“And of course that out of billions of people on this Earth, you’d be my boss’ son.” You roll your eyes, arms crossing over your chest as a scoff escapes from your lips. “Because this is exactly how insane my life actually is.”

Donghyuck just laughs, clearly enjoying the situation despite your indignation. “Well, this isn’t exactly how I pictured seeing you again but you don’t see me complaining, do you?”

At the implication of your first and last meeting, you can’t help taking a second to actually see him. 

It actually hasn’t been long, so Haechan still looks pretty much the same… and maybe that’s the problem. The racer jacket he’s wearing as costume makes him look so effortlessly cool, suiting him in a way that feels almost too fitting. From the black hair, now purple tipped and perfectly styled, to the tan skin and endearing moles on his cheeks, you realize that you might’ve daydreamed about him more than you’d like to admit.

It’s only when Haechan clears his throat, looking nothing but pleased, that you snap out of your trance.

You feel warmth creeping up on your neck but refuse to give him the satisfaction, frowning at his smug expression. “Don’t get too comfortable. You’re still just a random guy who’s been obnoxiously texting me weird stuff.”

“That’s mean, Barbie,” he teases, voice lowering just enough that only you can hear. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who gave me your number.”

“Because you asked,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I didn’t exactly plan on seeing you again.”

“Are you sure about that?” Haechan leans closer, the playful glint in his eyes growing stronger as he clicks his tongue. “Ah, it didn’t seem like it when you were begging—”

As your pulse quickens, body growing even warmer, you don’t think twice before impulsively covering his mouth with your hand. “I’m technically at work and your mother is my boss, so please shut your mouth.”

Haechan smiles against your palm, pressing his lips to your hand before you pull it away in panic, dreadfully searching the room for Mrs. Lee’s potential prying eyes. If you know your boss as well as you think, then you’d bet that she’s been watching every second of your interaction with her son with laser focus attention. 

Quick to catch you, his grin only widens. “If you don’t want her to see then let’s get out of here.”

If you were to suddenly disappear with her son, Mrs. Lee sure wouldn’t mind. 

Truthfully, you are ridiculously taken by the guy. After all, you have slept with him and it was one of the best nights you’d had in a long while. Haechan is witty, fun to talk to, and he doesn’t seem to hide who he really is. Unfortunately, he just also happens to be your boss’ son.

No matter how attractive and good at sex Haechan might be, you’re most definitely staying away from the ticking bomb. 

You must stay away from the ticking bomb.

“Only in your dreams,” you finally retort, hoping that your face doesn’t expose your agitation as you finally turn around to leave.

Just as you move past him, Haechan leans over your shoulder, the whisper as loud as a scream to your ears.

“That’s exactly where I’ve been seeing you.”

You’d spent the rest of the party in a daze.

Trying your best to steer clear of both Mrs. Lee and her beloved son, you thoroughly focused on supervising every little corner of the venue. Maneuvering your way through the guests, you’d quietly made your escape a few hours later so nobody would notice your sudden absence. 

If only Mrs. Lee hadn’t texted about your whereabouts halfway through your Uber ride, it’d have been a win. 

Now finally at home, you barely step through the door before Alia appears from the kitchen, a mug in her hands as she snickers at your frazzled expression.

“I can’t tell if the party was a bust or not,” she says, taking a sip from her tea as she raises a curious eyebrow. “I’m scared of your answer but how was Mrs. Lee’s long-awaited party?” 

Taking a few steps to slump onto the couch, you drop the cowboy hat and your bag to the floor, pressing a hand to your aching forehead as a sigh escapes from your mouth. 

“The party itself was great, everything went according to the plan,” you start, pausing for a moment to brace yourself. “I also finally met Donghyuck.”

Alia’s eyes immediately light up with interest, fully invested in your ongoing drama. “The Donghyuck? Mrs. Lee’s son Donghyuck?”

You hum. As the exhaustion catches on, you can’t help a deadpan summary of your night. “You can also call him Haechan, I guess.”

Alia almost chokes on her tea, scrambling to put the mug down before she spills it rushing to sit beside you on the couch. “You’ve got to be shitting me!” she exclaims, eyes wide with disbelief. “Haechan as in that cute little guy you’ve been texting since that rooftop bar?”

“The one and only.” You sigh in exasperation, glaring at your friend as she suddenly bursts into a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re laughing. The universe is playing a cosmic sick joke on me and you’re laughing.”

“This is totally your booktok plot!” she beams, voice laced with amusement. “Turns out Mrs. Lee was right about you being perfect for her son.”

“Oh my God, don’t even start,” you groan, feeling your cheeks warm up for the millionth time of the day. “It was embarrassing. I had to pretend that we didn’t know each other while he was looking at me like this is the funniest thing in the world.”

“Are you for real?” Alia scoffs, frowning as if you’d grown two heads. “You were so into him that night. The fact that he has your number right now gives you away, girl.”

“I didn’t think I’d see him again,” you protest, still timid over the memory of your first meeting. “Besides, he’s my boss’ son, and—”

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, Haechan’s name bright and clear on the screen. 

You hate his impeccable timing. You hate it so much.

Before you can even think, Alia quickly grabs the phone instead, mischief all over her face as she stands up to keep it away from you. 

“I’m on my knees, Barbie—” She starts reading, comically pausing as she shoots you a wide-eyed look. “Oh my God, what the fuck—”

You sink further into the couch, feeling as if your body is ready to combust. “Stop it!”

“I’m on my knees, Barbie,” Alia repeats, purposefully highlighting every word as she continues with a grin curling on her lips. “Where am I taking you for our date? I’m free when you’re free.”

As your roommate drops the phone on your lap, you block the screen with a glare at her. “Don’t say a word.”

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours but this guy is down bad for you,” she points out, her face softening before she sits by your side again. “And you like him, so what’s up with the long face?”

There’s a brief pause in the conversation before you sigh, firmly shaking your head. “It’s too complicated,” you say, offering a meek shrug under Alia’s knowing eyes. “Plus, I really like my job. If anything happens, it might fuck things up, you know.”

Alia watches you for a second that feels way too long, then only nods in response with a quiet chuckle. “Alright. If you’re convinced.”

The thing is, you’re not convinced.

Something tells you that your friend knows that too.

It starts on a Monday after the fateful Halloween party.

Arriving at the office in the aftermath of your meeting with Haechan—or Donghyuck, as you know now—had your nerves hyping up the most dreadful scenarios that played in your head during the weekend.

While it’s true that Mrs. Lee is one of the kindest humans you’ve met, you’d be lying if her reaction to your interaction with her son didn’t worry you a little. Though she was none the wiser back at the party, you did wonder if Haechan actually told her anything or even if she noticed how absurd the conversation played out to be after the very polite introduction.

On top of that, you… kinda also left Haechan on read. 

After an internal battle on whether you should simply reply and decline his invitation or downright just ignore him, you’d postponed an answer long enough to make it useless by now. 

So it’s no wonder that you’re at the edge of your seat now, annoyingly aware of every person that passes by your little corner office, even after a few of your nosy co-workers stop by to ask if you really did meet Mrs. Lee’s handsome and smart son, Donghyuck.

Still, nothing could’ve prepared you to see Haechan in your office, leather jacket, black thick-rimmed glasses and a coffee tray in hand, entering the place as if he’s always been around. 

“Good morning, Barbie,” he greets, flashing a cheeky smile at the apparent surprise on your face. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m just passing by to drop a little pick-me-up.”

Haechan hands one of the coffee cups and you cautiously accept with a sheepish nod, clearly taken aback by the gesture. “Thank you?” 

As quick as he gets in, he’s immediately turning around to leave. You’re taking it as a secret to your grave, but you can’t help but feel a tip of disappointment as he walks to exit your office, though not without a last lingering glance over his shoulder.

You silently pray to every deity existent that Haechan doesn’t realize how feverish you suddenly feel.

Just before he leaves, a small laugh escapes from his lips as he shakes his head, an expression you can’t quite read on his face. “You’re really fucking cute, Barbie.”

On Wednesday, he does it again. 

You’re conveniently on your way to drop a few documents for Mrs. Lee to sign when you catch sight of Haechan in the hallway, chatting animatedly with his mom as she’s returning from a business lunch with a few investors. It takes you a second to swiftly turn around, ready to rush back into your office when he spots you, calling out your name loud enough that half of the office must’ve heard. 

“Finally a familiar face around here, huh?” He smiles, subtly taunting you despite the friendly facade. “You’ve got the best people working here, don’t you, Mrs. Lee?”

Mrs. Lee’s eyes immediately sparkled, glancing between the both of you with interest. “Oh, I certainly do.”

The interaction feels awfully similar to your meeting at the party. Standing beside your boss with the same mischievous gaze, Haechan’s eyes run through every little detail of your figure, visibly pleased with the turn of events. 

“It's nice to see you again, Donghyuck,” you start, politely nodding at them as you hesitantly approach. “I’ve got some papers for you to sign, Mrs. Lee. I'll leave them on your desk, if you want?”

“No need, darling! Hand it over to Donghyuck, please,” your boss says, oblivious to your confusion if her grin is anything to go by.

Once with the folder in hands, Haechan flashes you a quick wink. “Thank you.”

You’re already racking your brain for a getaway excuse when Mrs. Lee huffs, playfully slapping her son’s arm. “You’re going to scare her away,” she chides, turning her attention to you as she sighs. “I know you’re always busy, darling, so we’ll let you go.”

“Right.” You smile tentatively, briefly clearing your throat. “Let me know if you need anything else, Mrs. Lee.”

Feeling his eyes on your back as you hurry back to the safety of your office, you secretly battle against a sudden need to reciprocate his attitude.

By Thursday, you’re kind of already expecting him.

Since his excuses have been a little too convenient to be coincidences, it doesn’t really surprise you to spot Haechan lingering around the office again, especially as he casually happens to bump into you at your lunchtime. 

He manages to follow right behind you on the elevator, his cordial demeanor visibly shifting to the usual sassy one as soon as the doors close. With the thick-rimmed glasses and messy hair adding a nerdy touch to his confidence, you might have watched him a little more attentively today—at least, enough to notice that he’s wearing the same denim jacket from the night you met.

As he steps by your side, shoulders brushing against yours, Haechan sighs. “You haven’t told me where we’re going yet, Barbie,” he starts, a touch dramatic. “I’m in the mood for some sushi but I’ll go wherever you wanna go.”

You glance up at him, eyebrows raised in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Our date,” Haechan argues, clearly holding back a grin despite the deadpan tone lacing his voice. “You can pick the restaurant, I don’t mind.”

Feeling the proximity a little too much, his words send your brain into haywire. You’re still… very much aware of the unanswered texts on your phone, especially the most recent one sent just the night before. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here again,” you lie, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible by rolling your eyes. “What brings you around this time?”

“I may or may not have left my laptop in Mrs. Lee’s office.” He shrugs, face breaking to a smirk. “Can you believe it? Good thing that I remembered about it.”

Taken by his casualness, you can’t hold back a chuckle. “Very convenient, if you ask me.”

“Are you implying something here, Barbie?” Haechan gasps, giving you a wide-eyed look as he leans over you. “I’m offended, you know. You make it sound like I’m taking advantage of the situation just to see you.”

You scoff, giving in to his attitude as a small smile breaks into your face. “That sounds unlikely.”

“Why didn’t you answer me last night, hm?” he mumbles, close enough that you can clearly see the little dots on his neck. 

Your brain takes a turn at the sight, immediately betraying you with very vivid memories of your lips trailing through Haechan’s moles, all the way down to his chest—

The elevator’s chime saves you from a spiral.

As the smallest sigh leaves your mouth, Haechan’s question hangs in the air as you take a step back from him, now ready to hurry out of the cubicle. There’s a satisfied glint in his eyes, almost as if he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you, most definitely aware that he’s probably wearing you down. 

Once the doors slide open, you’re quick to rush ahead of him, completely missing the weight of his gaze following you. 

Almost as if to trick you, he makes a rather late appearance on Friday.

You spent most of the day sneaking glances around the office, frustration growing in your chest by each passing hour. 

In a brief lapse of your sanity, you almost texted him during your lunch break, having briefly convinced yourself that it’d be mostly out of worry than anything else. Then, as Mrs. Lee bid you an early goodbye before leaving for one of her high-end club reunions, you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking about him.

Too focused on giving Yangyang a detailed explanation of his next errand, you don’t even notice when Haechan finally stops by your office, an entire box of your favorite bakery in hands as he waits for your attention. 

As your intern recognizes him first, he briefly glances between you and Haechan with a knowing look before hurriedly making an escape with a lousy excuse. 

“I think he knows something I don’t,” Haechan teases, casually taking your co-worker’s seat with a feigned innocent smile. “What’s up with the face, Barbie? Did you miss me?”

“You’re late,” you huff, a tip of irritation lacing your voice. “I thought you weren’t coming today.”

Faltering for a second as he processes your words, Haechan blinks in surprise. “Oh, you did miss me,” he says amusedly, leaning forward as his typical grin returns. “I bet you were waiting for me all day, weren’t you?”

Curiously pointing at the box to avoid the question, a smile slips through despite your efforts to keep it cool. “If this is not for me then you can leave right now.”

“I’m hurt you think I’d do this for anyone else but you.” He frowns, glaring at you in feigned offense. “You’re the only one for me, Barbie, you know that.”

You give him a playful eye roll, finally opening the lid to find an array of cupcakes that conveniently also happen to be your favorite flavors. “Who told you I liked these?” you ask, picking one up in delight. “I don’t think anyone here would know my usual bakery order.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Haechan scoffs, watching a little too attentively as you take a bite of a chocolate fudge cupcake. “I just happened to pass by this place and thought I could bring you a treat after a busy week.”

Raising an eyebrow, you pause in between a second bite. “The bakery is all the way across town.” 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he argues, a smirk soon growing on his face again. “We have more important things to discuss right now. How does tomorrow night sound for our date?”

“Tomorrow’s good,” you answer promptly, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible waiting for his reaction. 

With his usual confidence flickering to genuine surprise, Haechan stares at you for a moment, looking so stunned that you can’t help but find pleasure in finally catching him off guard. Reaching out for another cupcake, you swipe a finger at the strawberry frosting, bringing it to your mouth with a knowing smile at him. 

Haechan just laughs, a hint of disbelief in his eyes as he closes them in feigned agony. “You’re really driving me crazy, Barbie.”

“If that’s all you came here for, you can go now.” You gesture towards the door, avoiding his gaze as you mindlessly shuffle through some papers on your desk. “I still have work to do and you already scared my intern away.”

“I love it when you’re mean to me,” he sighs, grinning at your exasperated scoff with a hand over his heart. “I’ll only leave because you can’t seem to concentrate if I’m around.”

Sneaking a glance at him as he stands up, you can’t suppress a small smile. “Thank you for the cupcakes.”

“Promise me you’ll reply when I text you later,” Haechan presses, his playful demeanor sobering just enough to feel distinctively stubborn. “If you don’t, I’ll keep calling you until you pick up.”

You feign a tired sigh, trying to play off your amusement. “I promise, Donghyuck.” 

For a second, Haechan doesn’t move, still standing in front of your desk—and over you—as the cheeky glint returns to his eyes. “I love it when you say my name.”

The remark makes your chest tighten, heart speeding up because you know exactly what he means with that. Shaking your head, you shoo him away with a frown. “Just go already!”

Walking backwards towards the exit of your office, Haechan laughs, pausing just at the doorway to shoot you one last wink. “See you tomorrow, Barbie.”

Once he’s gone, you take a breath and reach out for another cupcake. 

Yeah, apparently staying away from the ticking bomb doesn’t seem like a solid plan anymore, you guess.

Haechan’s restaurant choice isn’t what you expect for a first date. 

Tucked deep into a quiet street, the hole-in-the-wall place is cozy and small enough to feel oddly intimate. There’s a nice handful of people around and as soon as you step in, a grandma quickly ushers you to a corner table, a glimmer of recognition taking over her eyes when Haechan greets her with a warm smile. 

Wearing a black shirt that fits him ridiculously nice, you can’t help your gaze from lingering on his frame for a little longer than usual today. 

As Haechan talks animatedly with the restaurant’s grandma, the only thing you can seem to focus on is the three little open buttons over his chest—

The click of his tongue calls your attention, your eyes finally meeting as Haechan leans closer to your ear, a cheeky grin tugging at his mouth. “I said you should introduce yourself, Barbie.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you apologize, offering the grandma a regretful look before you bow politely, giving her your name. “I’m… Donghyuck’s date. It’s nice to meet you, grandma.”

The older woman hums, a hand reaching for your chin while thoroughly regarding you with curious eyes. “She’s really pretty, oh my,” she mutters after a second, soon offering Haechan a pointed look with a smile on her face. “Alright, I believe you now, Haechannie.”

Confused by their interaction as she leaves, you can only obey her orders to sit down. When Haechan picks up the worn-out menu, you blink. “What… was that?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he says smoothly, shaking his head as he winks. “I’ve been here a lot, do you trust me to order for you?”

At your agreement, Haechan waves for a waiter, smartly starting to list a rather hefty order while you take a second look around the place.

Aesthetically speaking, the restaurant doesn’t feel very promising. Despite being obviously family-owned with a very homey vibe to it, it does look a little run down with the faded pictures on the walls, peeled painting and worn-out, outdated furniture. Still, given its location and appearance, it’s surprisingly pretty packed with all kinds of people—and you do spot a few couples here and there too.

Choosing to trust Haechan either way, you’re still intrigued about how he’s become a regular in a place so off-the-grid.

“You just listed half of the menu without a single look,” you start, staring at him with a funny look once the waiter leaves. “You really must come here a lot.”

“I’d say at least a couple of times a month,” he answers, resting his forearms on the small table as he leans forward. “This grandma’s kimchi stew really changed my life.”

Amused by the sincerity of his voice, you chuckle. “Is that why she seems to love you so much? She was so happy to see you.”

Haechan grins, shrugging casually. “I used to work around this neighborhood, so she’s known me for a long time,” he explains, eyes narrowing playfully as he notes the sudden change on your face. “What’s with the look, Barbie?”

You shake your head, resting your chin on a hand as you study him with newfound attentiveness. “I’m just realizing that I’ve heard a lot about you, but I don’t know what you do for a living.”

“Wow, I thought Mrs. Lee did a better job pitching me to you,” he says, feigning indignation as you roll your eyes. “I own a record label with my friends. It’s an independent thing and not super big but we’re really good, so…”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, most definitely not expecting such an unusual answer. “Oh, that’s… actually very cool,” you admit, leaning just a tiny bit forward with a curious smile at him. “Any artist that I might know?”

As a dramatic sigh escapes from his mouth, Haechan locks a steady gaze on you, his voice genuine despite a playful touch. “I sincerely hope not because if you know him then I don’t stand a single chance with you.”

You can’t help bursting into a laugh at how serious he looks, leaning back against your seat as you shoot him a look. “Aren’t we on a date?”

“We are.” He nods, a soft but unmistakable intensity flickering on his face. “This is probably a good time to let you know that I’m not giving up on this, alright? Now that you’re in, you can’t get out.”

Your lips twitch, a smirk soon tugging at the corner of your mouth. “That sounds terrifying,” you tease, amused. “I think I’ll take my chances this time, though.”

The food arrives just in time to interrupt him, though the smirk that grows on his face is enough of an answer to you. 

As the waiter unloads a loaded tray onto your table, dishes looking as delicious as it smells, your excitement grows with the warmth that fills the space between you. Haechan is quick to reach around the plates once the waiter’s gone, relying on your vote of confidence as he places a few dishes for you. 

“Alright,” he says, seemingly satisfied with the full table. “We’ve got this, Barbie.” 

“I don’t think we do,” you counter, eyes taking one last curious glance around before focusing on him. “Which one should I go for first?”

“Is that even a question?” Haechan clicks his tongue, offering you a bowl of rice before pointing to the biggest pot on the table. “The kimchi stew, baby. Go ahead and take a few bites with the rice.”

Following his instructions, you don’t know if the heat spreading through your body is solely from the food’s spiciness, the casualness of his new nickname for you or the deliberate, effortless confidence laced to his rather gentle command. 

With his expectant eyes watching for a reaction, you pause in between a second bite, grinning fondly at him. “Don’t look so worried, it’s really good.”

“You’re really a woman after my own heart,” he says, sounding as if he’d just had an epiphany. “Oh, my mom really knew what she was doing…”

“Considering we already knew each other, I think we can take the credit for this.” You shrug, feeling suddenly shy over the whole ordeal with Mrs. Lee. “Have you ever told her? That we’ve met before the party?”

“No, but I have a feeling that she knows. My mom always knows everything.” Haechan chuckles, eyes shining with mischief as he raises an eyebrow, leaning back on his seat. “Have you told her?”

“Are you kidding me?” you ask, voice dropping into a whisper as if the entire restaurant might overhear. “How am I supposed to tell my boss that I had a one night stand with her son without knowing it was actually her son?”

Giving a full laugh, there’s a hint of delight on his face as he smirks. “I mean, it was only a one night stand because you wanted it to be,” Haechan argues, a little too smug. “I have been trying, you know.”

“Let’s just not talk about that,” you cut off, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a flustered reaction as you chuckle nervously. “Since you already know what I do, you should tell me more about your label, please.”

Despite Haechan’s playful glare, making sure you know that he’s aware of your not-so-subtle deflection, the conversation quickly shifts to his job. Much like the night you first met at the bar, you’re completely entertained by his little anecdotes, taken by the humorous way he recounts his friendship stories and work mishaps with Mark, Johnny and Jaehyun. 

It almost feels like he’s cracking the edges of your hesitance, his personality disarming you so easily that you can’t help but wonder why you’ve spent so much time keeping him at arm’s length—or if you ever did in the first place.

As the evening flies by, only leftovers forgotten around the table now, silence lulls between you for a moment. 

Maybe you’re a little too aware of him, but noticing the sleeves of Haechan’s shirt starting to slide down his arms as he piles up a few empty bowls, you act before your brain can stop you.

“Wait,” you call softly, reaching out to hold his forearm. “Hold still for me?”

Haechan freezes mid-reach, something you can’t quite read in his eyes as he watches you push one sleeve back up, your fingers brushing against his skin by folding the fabric neatly into place. He willingly extends his arm when you move to the other sleeve, straightening it with the same care as you try to disregard his steady gaze locked on your figure.

When you let him go, Haechan slumps into his seat with a bemused chuckle. “You’re really making things harder for me, Barbie.”

As grandma’s loud and cheerful voice suddenly cuts through the restaurant, you’re saved by the bell seeing her approach your table, her face shifting to a frown as she looks between both of you. “Why did you eat so little?” 

Though she doesn’t seem to notice the weirdly tense mood, your cheeks are still burning over his words as Haechan silently nods at you to lead the conversation.

“I ate quite a lot, grandma,” you start, reassuring her with a timid smile. “It was really, really delicious. The best food I’ve ever had.”

She coos at you for a second, quickly moving on to playfully swat Haechan’s shoulder with a glare. “Why did you take so long to bring your girlfriend here? That’s not something a nice boy like you should do.”

A grin takes over his face, Haechan giving you a knowing look before he nods eagerly at the older woman. “I promise to bring my girlfriend more often now, grandma.”

“You should leave if you’re done already,” she reprimands lightly, starting to set the empty dishes on a tray with a click of her tongue. “Don’t keep hogging my table like you always do with those friends of yours.”

After resisting your several attempts of help, the restaurant’s grandma soon walks you to the door, bidding goodbye with a kiss to both yours and Haechan’s cheeks as she makes him promise to come back soon again. 

Stepping outside, the silence between you is filled with a strange mix of both ease and anticipation. 

Save from a few partygoers coming and going, the street is mostly quiet, lights casting a warm glow around you despite the evening’s chill. With the realization that the night’s finally over, you aren’t quite sure what to expect of Haechan now—given that most of your interactions were built through a game of push-and-pull, it almost feels like you’ve reached the climax of a story that’s just started.

Completely unaware of your skepticism, he falls into step beside you with a dramatic sigh. “I think you should let me take you home.” 

“You’re walking me to my car right now,” you say, rolling your eyes as an amused smile grows on your face. “I already told you a million times that I drove here.”

Haechan sighs again, his shoulders slumping for added effect. “Actually, I think you should take me to your home.”

You give him a look, ignoring the warmth spreading through your neck by feigning exasperation. “You also drove here, Donghyuck.”

“You’re really missing the big picture here, Barbie,” he groans, throwing his head back in feigned frustration. “Are you really going to reject me again? When are you going to stop pretending you don’t like me?”

As you shake your head, a smirk threatens to break your facade. “You said you like it when I’m mean to you.”

“I do,” Haechan says without missing a beat, sobering up to a serious expression despite the mischievous glint in his eyes. “I like it so much you can be the mean one this time.”

The implication behind his words make you pause for a second, feeling a little flustered despite the scoff that escapes from your mouth. “You’re unbelievable.” 

Approaching your car soon enough, Haechan just watches as you unlock the doors and slide into the driver’s seat, quickly stepping forward to block you from closing yet. Looking up at him, you hope that the dim lights of the parking spot are enough to disguise your agitation.

With a hand on the roof of the car, he leans down just enough to meet your eyes. “Remember you promised to reply to my texts now,” Haechan insists, a smug smile growing on his face. “What’s gonna happen if you don’t reply?”

You give him a small, challenging grin. “You’re going to keep calling me until I pick up.”

“That’s right.” He nods, giving a satisfied chuckle. “You’ll let me know when you get home safe, won’t you?”

With a half-hearted snort, you nod back. “Yes, Donghyuck.”

Instead of answering, Haechan regards you for a second before extending a hand out, pushing the fallen strap of your top back in place with a feather-like touch to your upper arm. 

As quick as it happens, he taps the roof of the car and closes the door for you, offering one last grin. “I’ll talk to you later, Barbie.”

Well, he did try to—which didn’t mean you let him.

At home, you reveled in watching Haechan’s name blowing up your phone, just for the sake of keeping him on his toes.

Barbie 10:44AM If you’re in a meeting then STOP texting me

Haechan grins at your message, his attention completely absorbed by his phone while Johnny and Mark debate something about winter releases in the back of his mind. 

Gathered in Johnny’s office for a monthly meeting, the scene was familiar enough to allow him to zone out in your favor—while Mark was running his mouth away about a few potential songs, Johnny occasionally interjecting every now and then, Haechan quietly focused on pestering a few texts out of you. 

In the following days of your date, he couldn’t seem to get enough of the familiar sharp, flirty back-and-forth between you, especially now knowing that you secretly enjoy it. So much that he takes a backseat in his friends’ conversation, unaware of his oldest friend’s reprimand until Mark waves a hand to his face, snapping his fingers as to pull him back to reality.

Haechan looks around Johnny’s office for a second, putting his phone down with a dismayed sigh. “I already said I’ll agree with whatever you guys decide.”

Mark and Johnny exchange amused looks, the latter raising an eyebrow at his friend with a mischievous chuckle. “Sure, so you do agree to leaving the higher percentage to Mark and I, right?”

At the youngest’s guilty grimace, Mark bursts a laugh before swatting his shoulder. “Dude, you’ve been grinning at your phone like an idiot for like, 30 minutes now,” he teases, a hint of confusion laced to his humorous tone. “You never shut up during our meetings, what’s going on?”

With a dramatic pause, Haechan looks between his two friends, a smirk soon growing on his face. “Alright, if you guys want to know so badly—”

Johnny snorts, immediately cutting him off with a playful look. “I didn’t ask anything.”

“If you guys want to know so badly,” he repeats pointedly, rolling his eyes at Johnny’s laugh. “You know that girl from the bar I’ve been talking to? Well, she’s the girl my mom tried to set me up with at the Halloween party.”

Haechan can’t help laughing at his friends’ reactions, both of them visibly puzzled by the half-assed burst of information. Johnny’s the one to break the silence first, an amused scoff escaping from his mouth.

“One of these days your mouth’s gonna get you in trouble,” he says, seemingly processing his friend’s words before leaning forward on his desk. “Let me see if I got this right—the girl from the bar is your mother’s employee… is that it?”

Mark raises an eyebrow, pausing for a second before his jaw drops. “Wait—what?”

“Ding ding ding! Points for Johnny!” Haechan jokes, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. “Turns out she works for my mom all this time and I just didn’t know.”

Johnny chuckles, shaking his head at the youngest’s antics. “You know what? That does sound like something that would only happen to you.” 

“So basically, you’re telling us you hooked up with your mom’s employee?” Mark insists, a mix of amazement and shock on his face as Haechan proudly grins in response. “Man, that’s crazy. What are the odds?”

“How did she take it?” Johnny asks, narrowing his eyes. “Knowing you, I bet you were insufferable and freaked her out.”

Trying to play it cool with a nonchalant shrug, a very clear image of your Barbie dressed self pops in his mind as he chuckles. “I mean, she did pretend to not know me, but it was fun.”

The oldest hums, his curiosity peaked despite the careful approach. “So… what now? You guys are dating or what?” 

Haechan falters, the smile on his face slipping for a second before catching himself. “We’re not dating… yet,” he admits, dragging out the words as if to make them believable. “We went on a date a few days ago but she’s still… a little skeptical, you know.”

Mark snorts, rolling his eyes. “Skeptical of you? What a surprise.”

“Shut up, she’s just figuring out if I’m serious or just messing around,” Haechan groans, shooting his friend a peeved look. “I mean, I’m obviously serious but she might think I’m just playing games or something.”

“She’s not wrong, though,” Johnny points, a teasing smirk on his face. “Again, if I know you, you are probably playing games.”

“Yeah, but not like that!” he whines, huffing loudly as he slumps against the chair. “This is just me being charming. There’s a difference.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, grimacing. “Is there, though?”

Haechan pauses, opening his mouth to reply but quickly closing it again as a comeback escapes him. For a brief moment, he feels and looks genuinely dumbfounded, which is definitely a rare and mildly entertaining sight for his two older friends. Though he’d never admit it, there’s no denying that Mark and Johnny planted a little seed of uncertainty in his head.

Crossing his arms, Johnny can’t help but laugh at his sullen expression. “Have we finally broken you?”

“No, you haven’t,” he fires back, voice remarkably resembling a bratty child. “I’m just… plotting.”

“Can I give you one last word of advice?” Johnny asks, toning the conversation down to a more serious note with a knowing glance at the youngest. “You should probably put yourself in her shoes. I know it must’ve been fun for you to find out who she is, but she does work for your mom. Do you get it?”

After a brief moment of silence between them, Mark lets out a low whistle, visibly impressed at the words. “Damn, that was a good thought.”

“Ugh, alright, I get it,” Haechan concedes, the corner of his mouth threatening a grin. “I’ll try to play it cool… for her.”

The conversation is cut short by the buzz of his phone against the desk, drawing everyone’s attention as it lights up with a familiar nickname. 

Barbie 10:56AM I can’t believe you actually listened to what I said

Mark and Johnny exchange a second look watching Haechan’s grin widen, a look on his face that’s enough to tell them that he’s far from playing it cool like promised.

It just happens to be one of those weeks.

As you walk through the lobby, leaving the office much later than usual for a Friday, you feel your shoulders heavy with exhaustion. After days of nonstop meetings, tight deadlines and constant phone calls due to an unexpected slip of your co-workers, all you want is to go home, kick your heels off and forget about the existence of numbers and currencies for a while.

Still, despite how worn-out you feel, the sight of Haechan standing by his car just outside the building rises a hint of excitement in your chest. 

With your surprise taken by anticipation—especially after the few days where your interaction had been limited to his insufferable messages—you can’t help but feel relieved to see him. Though there hadn’t been time for much else, you’d still caught yourself thinking about him more often than you cared to admit. 

You’re also not admitting any time soon that Haechan’s the easiest, most fun part of your routine too. 

In the stupor of your fatigue, you take in his fluffy brown jacket and the squared glasses on his face, making him look so warm and cuddly that you don’t even think twice before throwing your arms around his shoulders in a hug.

Feeling Haechan’s confusion through his hesitation to hold you back, a sigh escapes from your mouth as you tighten the hold and bury your face against his neck, seemingly enough to tell him something. 

“You’re being too nice to me, I’m worried,” he jokes lightheartedly, a contrast to his frown as he attempts a look at your face. “Come look at me, please?”

His hands are still running up and down your back in the gentle embrace as you glance up, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Haechan greets, his usual teasing tone softened with concern. “What’s wrong? I was expecting a long face and maybe an insult, not the best hug I’ve had in my entire life.”

“I’m just… really tired.” You chuckle humorlessly, too quiet. “This week was hell and my brain’s completely fried, I’m sorry.”

As his face shifts to something you can’t read, Haechan hums. “I was thinking about putting some food in you,” he starts, his hands moving to your arms almost soothingly. “But if you’re too tired, then I can take you ho—”

“No,” you interrupt right away, shaking your head as a familiar warmth heats your cheeks. “I’m starving and… I wanted to see you.”

He blinks, a slow grin growing on his face as he clutches his chest in the usual dramatic fashion. “The things I’d do for you, Barbie…” Haechan groans, back to his playful nature. “I know just the place. Do you trust me?”

You watch as he extends a hand, huffing a laugh before taking his hold. “Yeah.”

There’s something unexpectedly tender in the way Haechan takes the lead then, effortlessly building the conversation with a touch of softness you hadn’t witnessed before with him. Though the drive is fairly quick, his smart quips slipping every now and then to still tease you, the feeling that maybe this moment holds a whole different meaning to your heart doesn’t escape you.

The ramen stand is nestled just by the river, people scattered around under the yellow lights as the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses mingles with the faint rush of water nearby. 

As both of you weave through the crowd, Haechan still holding tight to your hand as he leads the way, the air gets warmer enough to make you salivate at the lingering aroma of broth and grilled meat. With a perfect view of the river, he’s quick to spot an empty table, moving around before gesturing for you to take the stool first. 

Eyeing the table for a second, you hesitate for a second before speaking up. “Can’t I sit beside you?”

Haechan pauses, still holding the stool as he glances up at you, his furrowed eyebrows instantly melting to a knowing smile. “You love me, don’t you?”

You scoff, brushing past him to take the seat with a grin betraying you. “Don’t bother, then.”

“No, no, no,” he counters, quickly sliding his own stool next to yours before dropping into the seat with a chuckle. “Are you kidding? Who am I to deny you something?”

As you pretend to ignore him, focusing on the vendor for the moment, Haechan doesn’t seem phased by it as he leans closer, sneaking glances at you while casually placing the order under another vote of confidence.

Once you’re alone again, he sighs with a feigned glare at your direction. “So… do I have to talk with Mrs. Lee for overworking you?”

You laugh, the sound coming off a little worn out despite your amusement. “It’s not your mother’s fault,” you reply, shaking your head with a deep breath. “I don’t think she even knows what happened. If she did, she’d definitely scold me for working so late.”

“As she should,” Haechan argues, eyes suddenly turning a little too serious. “If whatever’s happening is giving you too much trouble, you should tell her.”

Tilting your head as you lean forward, a smile tugs at your mouth. “Are you worried about me?”

“Yeah, actually,” he admits, grinning mischievously unlike his deadpan tone. “I am obsessed with you for a reason, after all.”

“You really are crazy,” you joke, not resisting a laugh as you quickly place a finger over his mouth just as he’s about to speak. “Please, don’t say you’re crazy for me.”

With a dramatic sigh, Haechan pulls back from you with a dirty look. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I know you’re not.” You smile, faltering for a second as the moment seems to suddenly shift with the softness laced to your voice. “I mean, I’m starting to believe you’re not. I… hope you’re not, so…”

A mix of emotions seem to flicker through his face at your words, enough to visibly leave Haechan a little floored while the vendor approaches with the food, the timing for an answer lost as the man places the steaming bowls of ramen and grilled skewers between you. 

He clears his throat as the vendor leaves, shifting his attention to the food for a second. “Let’s make a bet,” Haechan suddenly starts, resting his elbows on the table as he leans forward. “This is going to be the best ramen you’ve ever had so you’ll let me take you as my plus one to my mom’s Holiday dinner.”

You frown confusedly at his impromptu offer, unsure if he’s actually serious about it. “What?”

“You heard me,” he counters, sounding firmer now as a mischievous smile brightens his face. “If this is the best ramen you’ve ever had, we’ll go to Mrs. Lee’s Holiday dinner together.”

If Mrs. Lee’s annual Halloween party is already highly anticipated by her employees and associates alike, you can safely say that Mrs. Lee’s annual Holiday dinner is an experience of its own. Having attended your first one the year before, just a few months after you’d been hired, it made you wonder if you’d actually last in the job. 

First, because it officially marked the start of your boss’ matchmaking attempts—specifically after Haechan bailed on her at the last minute—and second, because it’s kind of… a big deal.

The Holiday dinner is quite fancy, packed with the corporate A-list Mrs. Lee works with.

So you can’t help but hesitate, raising a doubtful eyebrow at him. “That’s silly! Aren’t you going either way?”

Haechan clicks his tongue, voice flat as if he’s stating the obvious. “If it’s not with you, not really.”

“Well, considering you bailed last year, you should probably attend this one,” you argue, pursing your lips to hold back a smile. “Besides, what makes you think I wouldn’t lie just to get out of this?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Haechan grins, leaning closer with a challenging look at your direction. “If you truly want me at this boring dinner, you won’t lie.”

As you shake your head, a laugh escapes before you can stop it. “Are you really placing your cards on a bowl of ramen right now?”

“This is not just a bowl of ramen, Barbie,” he says, gesturing dramatically at the bowl. “It’s the bowl of ramen. You should’ve learned by now that I don’t mess around with good food.”

You pick up the chopsticks, the corner of your mouth twitching from holding back your amusement. “I’ll try it with one condition,” you offer, narrowing your eyes. “If I don’t like it, you owe me something.”

Haechan snorts, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Just name it and I’ll do it even if you like it.”

“I’ll tell you later,” you reply, pausing before you take a first bite, dragging the moment out just to spite him. 

Even if you were a good liar, it most definitely wouldn’t be worth it—it almost feels like the taste explodes in your mouth and if Haechan’s reaction says anything, a smirk slowly growing on his face by each second, your expression is probably gives you away. 

As he chuckles to himself, Haechan looks nothing but satisfied while stirring his own bowl. “I told you so, baby.”

The river’s gentle waves sound like background music as the conversation eases between you, the meal wrapping up in no time with Haechan feeding a few remaining pieces of meat to a curious kitty that sneaks around your feet under the table.

Taken by the warmth of a full stomach and the exhaustion of your hellish week, you scoot closer to him, enough to lean against Haechan’s side as your head falls on his shoulder. 

Quick to welcome you, he wraps an arm around your back before pulling you even closer. “Tired?”

“A little,” you mumble, closing your eyes for a second before chuckling. “Can I ask you a stupid question?”

He nods, hands running up and down your back now. “Yeah, baby.”

“How come you’ve got two names?” you ask, giving him a funny look as he laughs. “I mean, if your real name is Donghyuck, where did Haechan come from?”

“When we started the label, I used to sing some of the guide tracks of our projects,” Haechan explains, smiling at the surprise on your face. “I didn’t want to use my real name if someone ended up using it, so I made one up.”

“It fits you,” you say, sighing as you close your eyes again. “I love your real name, too.”

Despite the small grin curling his lips, there’s a flicker of something more serious in Haechan’s eyes. “You love me too?”

Instead of indulging his teasing, you glance up at him with a knowing smile. “Thank you for tonight, Donghyuck,” you start, using his real name with a touch of softness that feels a little different. “I really needed this.”

Haechan regards you for a second, quietly watching for a second before he chuckles fondly. “Anytime, Barbie,” he murmurs, squeezing you against his side with a hum. “You know that, don’t you?”

As you look out at the river, cozy and warm in his hold as the yellow lights shimmer against the water, the answer comes as quickly as the waves crashing nearby. 

You know now.

Barbie 9:26PM Are you busy?

9:26PM Look who it is Never busy for you What do I owe the pleasure baby

Barbie 9:27PM Hi Hyuck I hope I’m not interrupting anything

9:27PM I’m Hyuck now??? 😀

Barbie 9:27PM Don’t be insufferable about it I was just wondering if you’re free tomorrow night?

9:29PM Are you asking me on a date? Am I dreaming right now??

Barbie 9:29PM You should probably pinch yourself then Maybe you could come over for dinner? I’ll even cook for you this time

9:30PM You’re so lucky my schedule is clear baby I’m all yours if you want it

Barbie 9:30PM I do want it

9:30PM You do??

9:31PM I’ll call until you pick up Barbie

9:35PM You want me???

Outside your apartment, Haechan doesn’t realize how antsy he feels until the bottle of wine nearly slips from his fingers, fidgeting impatiently while waiting for you to open the door. With the faint sound of music slipping through, a song he doesn’t really recognize playing inside, the entire situation feels like a ridiculous, senseless fever dream. 

At this point, he doesn’t know what to expect. 

Thinking back from the first night you’d spent together to the absurd twist of events that followed at his mother’s Halloween party, he’s strangely unsure of… well, whatever today can possibly mean. 

So much that Haechan swears his brain short-circuits as soon as the door opens—wearing a dress he’s very much familiar with, looking like the perfect picture of his wildest, most vivid memories, you smile knowingly at him, taking the surprise on his face with a hint of satisfaction.

“You must take pleasure in my suffering,” he starts solemnly, his dramatic sigh earning a laugh from you. “I’m having full flashbacks right now.”

Rolling your eyes, you step aside to let him in. “Good evening, Donghyuck.”

A few steps into your apartment, he looks over his shoulder as you follow him to the living room. “Are you trying to tell me something?” Haechan pauses, the question soon followed by a coy smile. “Baby, all you need to do is ask. I’ve told you—”

“Get your mind off the gutter,” you cut off, attempting to hide your amusement with a scoff. “I invited you for dinner, didn’t I?”

He chuckles, setting the wine bottle on the coffee table with a quick glance around your place. “You didn’t specify what kind of dinner, though.”

At the subtle suggestion in his voice, you shoot him a withering look. “The kind that involves food, Donghyuck,” you argue, a snicker escaping from your lips. “Unless you want to starve tonight, then I can—”

“Alright, alright,” Haechan interrupts, holding his hands up in surrender with a smirk. “I promise to behave from now on.”

You huff, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

While you head into the kitchen, Haechan lingers around your living room for a moment, taking in the little details of your apartment. From a collection of candles by the TV, packed bookshelves to an array of pictures on the walls, the small place feels very cozy, somehow so unmistakably you.

It’s only when he follows you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, that Haechan remembers your roommate—eyes immediately spotting a polaroid glued to the fridge, the image showing you in a birthday hat, squeezed in a hug between the girl and a lanky, tall guy. 

He chuckles at the picture, your name paired with a + Alia & Jungwoo on the bottom. “Where’s your roommate, by the way?”

“She’s in Vegas with her boyfriend,” you explain, glancing over your shoulder with an amused laugh. “Apparently they got married by Elvis last night? They sent me pictures and everything.”

Haechan gapes for a second, a playful whistle following. “Damn, we’ll have to step up the game in our wedding, then.”

“I’d have to accept it first, which I’m not planning to do,” you snort, giving him a look. “Set the table for me, would you? The plates are in the cabinet on your right.”

As you finally sit down to eat, settled at the coffee table instead in a similar set-up to your ramen date, Haechan can’t help stealing a few glances at you. There’s something about the moment that feels too natural, an ease between you that sends his mind to places he still isn’t sure you’re at. 

Watching you take a sip of the wine a little too attentively, a hum pleased hum escaping from your lips, the words slip before Haechan can stop them. “I told my mom that we already knew each other before the Halloween party.”

You choke with the wine, falling into a coughing fit as your eyes widen at him. “What? Why would you do that?”

“She’s known for a while,” Haechan continues, smiling lightly at your reaction. “Remember the day I started visiting the office to see you?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you scoff, somehow looking caught between confusion and shock. “It’s been like… almost a month by now. Are you telling me she’s known this entire time?”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his own glass. “You’re so clueless, Barbie,” Haechan teases, bumping his shoulder against yours. “I thought you’d notice the day you met both of us at the office. She wasn’t being very subtle about it.”

With a defeated groan, you shoot him a timid glance. “How much does she know?”

“Who do you think I am? I’m not disclosing my sex life to my mother,” he protests, frowning dreadfully as you burst into a laugh. “I only told her we met at a bar, exchanged numbers, and that we talked every once in a while.”

“She didn’t mention anything,” you start, looking a little apprehensive. “Like, she tried to set me up with you for so long. I would’ve thought she’d say something about it knowing that we… you know.”

“That might have been on me? I asked her to not say anything,” Haechan answers hesitantly, a half apologetic smile curling on his lips. “I didn’t want to put you in trouble at work because we had something going on—and I know you were a little hesitant because of it, so…”

You watch him for a brief second, long enough for his mind to overdrive. “We should eat before the food gets cold.”

Despite feeling completely enamored by your sudden little spiel, Haechan swallows a groan of frustration when you start listing the impromptu menu, the moment now broken as the conversation takes another route.

The food’s cleared when the mood subtly shifts again, half of the wine bottle gone while your playlist comes down to softer, slower songs. 

As you shift closer to him, both still sitting on the floor of your living room, he can’t help but savor how shy you look. “So… how did you like it?”

Haechan tilts his head to take a better look at your face, his grin widening at your eye roll at his antics. “I was wondering if you’re open for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“It depends,” you answer, voice a tone cheekier despite how quiet it sounds. “I’ve got tomorrow off. Are you staying or leaving after breakfast?”

He exhales a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re driving me crazy for real, Barbie.” 

On your knees, you move closer just enough to cup Haechan’s face, pressing a tentative, soft kiss to his lips. Taken by surprise, it takes a second for the pin to drop in his brain, warmth spreading through his body like wildfire as soon his arms close around your waist, pulling you closer until you’re settled on his lap. 

As he leans into your touch, breaking the kiss with a sigh from you, Haechan can’t help a grin. Catching your breath with your forehead resting against his, you laugh at his dazed expression, pressing a smooch to his cheek. 

With a blink, he groans playfully. “Oh, I’m definitely staying for breakfast now.”

You smile softly, shaking your head but not pulling away from him. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” Haechan murmurs, hands brushing down your back as he tilts his head up, lips just barely touching yours. “Another one, please?”

Giving him another quick kiss, you smile against his mouth, lingering closer for a second. “I think Jungwoo’s got a few t-shirts here that should fit you.”

“You have another man’s clothes in your home?” he asks, feigning an irked frown as his head falls back in a dramatic fashion. “Oh, I’m going to be sick.”

Though the smile on your face gives you away, you still don’t resist rolling your eyes at his antics. “Are you done?”

Shaking his head, Haechan offers you his habitual grin. “I’m never done.”

When you don’t immediately respond, the silence shifts the atmosphere for a bit. Watching as your gaze softens, you take him by surprise brushing your fingers against his cheek, purposefully over the moles on his face.

Your voice is quieter now, almost warm with sincerity as you speak up. “Thank you for coming over, Hyuck.”

Trying to play it off as best as he can, heart pounding against his chest, Haechan chuckles fondly. “I guess that means you’re stuck with me now.” 

“I guess so.” You laugh, eyes sparkling at the unspoken promise. “You don’t seem too upset about it, though.” 

As he tightens the hold around your frame, bringing you closer again, Haechan feels you relax into his embrace. The agreement settles between you as easily as the evening ends, his lips pressing a final kiss to your forehead without much words—just your shared understanding and quiet certainty. 

“Can’t be upset when I’m exactly where I want to be, Barbie.”

The car rolls to a stop outside the beautifully decorated venue, Christmas lights casting a soft glow at the grand entrance of Mrs. Lee’s lavish Holiday dinner.

As he turns off the engine, Hyuck still seems a little taken by the vibrant pink of your gown, glancing over at you with a very familiar look. 

“Once we walk through that door, it’s over for you,” he jokes, though a hint of something else betrays the playfulness of his voice. “Are you sure about this?”

Leaning over the console, you kiss him a little too forcefully, a sound of protest escaping from Haechan’s lips when you pull back. “I’m sure, Hyuckie,” you answer, giggling at the look on his face. “We should go before someone thinks we’re doing something in here.”

A grin takes over his face, looking a little too invested in your scenario. “Baby, that’s the greatest idea you’ve had—” Haechan stops himself at the slap on his arm, laughing as he unlocks the doors. “Alright, I got it, I’m sorry.”

Outside, he helps you adjust the straps at the back of your dress, pressing a last kiss to your shoulder before sliding his hand into yours. “Let’s go, Barbie.”

Together, you head towards whatever surprises the night might hold.

EXTRA: SCREENTIME

MASTERLIST

[sexbot300]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹  rival!gojo head-canons

contents: 18+, mdni. rivals to (maybe) lovers. slight fluff, suggestive, crack, slight angst if you squint, smut. gojo satoru x reader.

tw: mentions of sex. actual descriptions of it. suggestive talk. unprotected sex p in v. oral. pet names. degradation. humiliation. satoru being somewhat of an (loving) ass.

a/n: i literally forgot how much i love writing head-canons. i left this one on a cliffhanger on purpose teehee lolz. thank you so so so much for the followers and support i'm getting. luv to hear your feedback! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

rival!gojo who has his patience and ego tested the minute he found out who you were.

rival!gojo who finds it endearing that someone other than him is on par with being the strongest. if endearing meant slightly blood-boiling.

rival!gojo who only heard word that you can “maybe” beat him in a fight and he “maybe” holding that as a grudge.

rival!gojo who sees you for the first time and his brain does a hard-factory reset.

rival!gojo who only laughs to himself that the world is cruel for making his own “arch-enemy” the hottest thing he’s ever set his eyes on.

rival!gojo who was starstruck, he knew that he had to know everything about you, for “research reasons.”

rival!gojo whos first encounter with you went something along the lines of:

“heard you’re the strongest.” “funny, heard the same thing about you.” “try not to die.” “are you kidding? and hand you over the title like a fucking crown?”

rival!gojo who jokes with your own students about joining the winning side, leaving you to be taught by him.

rival!gojo who will never admit that he lovessssssssssss that someone is as strong as he is, contradicting any bit of “malice” he has towards you.

rival!gojo who won't hesitate to call you, “princess” to mock you. truthfully, he’s mocking himself knowing that deep down he wouldn’t mind calling you that in all seriousness.

rival!gojo who purposely sits across from you in important meetings, taking any and every opportunity to speak to you. arms crossed over his chest while smiling. “dont get why i'm here really. look at her, she’s a big girl. i probably can leave the jujutsu world and it’ll be just fineeeee.”

rival!gojo who knows that the world needs him, but wants to be showered in compliments that prove he’s better. he only glances your direction, “ah, but if i leave, who will keep you on your toes?”

rival!gojo who after many, many years has this “relationship” with you that consists of; sly comments, wandering eyes, and moments that leave you both questioning the other.

rival!gojo who knows your favorite color, season, show, drink, how you like your toast charred— what? he’s just getting to know his “enemy” a bit more, relax.

rival!gojo who knows that you’re both the strongest, so it’s a ticking time bomb of who caves in first.

rival!gojo who no one can ever tell if you guys fucking hated each other or were just straight up fucking.

rival!gojo who purposely turns off his limitless near you, making excuses that “you’re no threat” to him. he secretly wants you to touch him because it means he’ll get to touch you.

rival!gojo who will never miss the opportunity to pass snide comments:

“ms. superhero is here, everyone clear way.” “not enough room on this earth for your ego alone, gojo.” “please, call me satoru.” “hm? why is that?”  “just want you to memorize the name of the person who’ll beat you one day.”  “if you’re trying to be sly with your insults, doing a terrible job.”  “princess, it’s not classified as insults if it’s the truth.” “would it make you happy if i just infatuated your self-worth like everyone else?” “there’s a lot you can do that can make me happy actually. start off by shutting up, maybe?”

rival!gojo who is constantly told to stop provoking you as the higher-ups know if you both take it too far, an actual war will break out. “gojo, behave yourself.” he only pouts, arms crossed over his chest, “whattttt? I’m being as friendly as i can be!”

rival!gojo who overhears the higher-ups scold you for replying back to his comments that are on equivalent with his childish behavior. “don’t entertain that idiot.” you only blink dumbfounded, “he started it! i’m nothing but kind and he's just a dumbass with too much power.”

rival!gojo who actually knows every little detail he wanted to about you. If it was your technique, dirt on you, your weaknesses, believe he’ll already know. “still keeping tabs on me?” “i don't understand, even if i was, we’re supposed to be working together sweetheart.” he only snickers, “although, you wish you mattered that much.” eliciting an eye-roll from you.

rival!gojo who actually finds you funny. someone who can keep up with him in all categories? yup, he’s making you his one way or another. you’re either the greatest blessing to occur to him or the reason he believes love truly is a curse.

rival!gojo who does find out if you’re attracted to someone or not and keeps a bit of an eye on who you’re interested in. by no means will he stop you from pursuing who you want, you deserve to feel happiness even if it isn’t with him. even if it means if it’s short-lived happiness, it was enough for a sorcerer who’s life-span is a guessing game. but he’s greedy. he’s selfish. he doesn’t want anyone else to take you, and he won’t directly interfere, but don’t think he isn’t pulling ropes in the back. 

rival!gojo who’s been your secret admirer for a while now, making sure to purposely get you gifts no man outside of his own status can ever top off. even if they were in his own status, he’ll quickly prove that he IS the Gojo Satoru and no one can top that off. if he can't outright admit he wants you, his pseudo-identity will. who do you think bought you those bouquets that swarmed your house that one valentine?

rival!gojo who notices that you’re wearing the pricey bracelet he bought you, snickering softly, “wow? the evil witch managed to successfully cast her spell in making someone like her?” glancing his direction, noticing a smug look on his face as his chin rests on his palm. “dunnooo gojo, maybe you’re not the only one here people find attractive.” you state, eyeing the handsome face of a man who would eat that shit up if you admitted it out loud. with a shit-eating grin, he spoke, “oh so you find me attractive?” unamused in a softer tone, “never said that, never will.” clicking his tongue, a deeper grin stretched out his pink lips. “you’ll come around eventually.”

rival!gojo who noticed that the bracelet didn’t have a cute necklace to accompany it, making a mental notice.

rival!gojo who isn’t actually your rival, he knows that you know he doesn’t have a big ego that you use as a cheap jab. there’s an unspoken mutual solidarity between you two, maybe the faux rivalry and self-worth being tested was a result of a fake relief you both fell in. maybe you can both pretend that all is well in this world. labeled the title of the strongest places all the responsibilities on both of your shoulders. he feels for you that this life isn’t kind to you or him and he feels a pang of guilt knowing that what’s expected of him, is expected of you too. does he hate you at all? never. does he hate knowing that someone else is burdened with the same path as him? more than anything.

rival!gojo who doesn’t understand why you’re still fighting. he has wealth, good looks, a huge dick, a sense of humor and is the not only the strongest but is a clan head. why don’t you just let him take care of you instead? why don't you end up in his arms at the end of the day? why don’t you let him massage the knots in your back and clean up dried-up wounds? why don't you unravel in a bath with him as you lay on his chest, playing with his fingers? why don’t you let him try the same sweets he really likes? why don’t you just let him occupy your world like you have with his?

rival!gojo who won't simply go at it with you like teenagers, he wants to see who will fall into the trap of falling for their rival first. he notices the way your eye lingers on his lips for a split second, or your face that paints that you feel tempted to bite the apple that god forbade you to. he wasn’t an idiot, and neither were you. he wasn’t physically keeping a distance from you more often because he was repulsed from you, no, it was quite the opposite. he knew that if given certain stances, he’d lose all control. but gojo didn’t want that, this was a game. he had to win. It wasn’t about a title anymore, it was about you. he had to win you.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 

rival!gojo who has sexual tension with you that can be cut with a knife, making everyone in the room shift in their seats.

rival!gojo who just eyes you up and comments under his breath that you’re probably so tense from the lack of dick you’re getting. “what was that satoru?” “nothing at all princess, you’re hearing things. get your ears checked out maybe.”

rival!gojo who doesn’t want to get under just your skin but under your sheets too. 

rival!gojo who wants to dominate you in every aspect, especially in bed.

rival!gojo who wants to pummel your pussy into the ground whenever you catch an attitude with him, which is mainly all the time. this one particular time when taking down a curse led you both on thin ice. “satoru, you’re supposed to guard me. the curse could’ve easily escaped. what the fuck were you doing?” you state walking close to him, arms out in disbelief with furrowed eyebrows. “huh, well maybe if you knew what you were doing you wouldn’t be relying on me.” he looked down at you, voice brattier than usual. “rely on you? i’d rather be thrown on the ground right now and have a special grade eat me whole.” faces only inches apart, he tugged his blindfold above one eyes, face growing cold. “I doubt it would remotely even want to eat something as vile as you.” your eyes only glued to his somber face, looking beautiful when disparaging as if it was double the taunting. clearing your throat, “as if it would want to taste you.” a gust of wind escaped his nose in disbelief, “please, it wouldn’t be the only thing here that would want to taste me.” pupils dilated, eyes directing staring in each others souls, you only scoff. “and who’s to say that you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to throw me on the ground?” his once stern face, had a hint of lust wash over in the form of a slight smirk, “not really a fan of wrestling someone so weak, i’ll just feel bad for you. really.” given the circumstances and the hoards of curses making way, he actually regretted not taking you right then and there. his idea of wrestling equating to absolutely demolishing your guts.

rival!gojo who wonders what it would be like to shut your soft, plush mouth up with his own.

rival!gojo who wonders if the bitter insults that roll off your tongue taste sweeter in his mouth.

rival!gojo who is more than giddy to hear that you’re assigned together to train, because he’s not just thinking of physically fighting you. his mind trails off to training you to take his cock instead.

rival!gojo who wants to test your strength in seeing how many rounds you can go with him. this isn’t about training.

rival!gojo who imagines taking you in for the first time; raw, ass up in the air, back arched inhumanely possible, large hand gripping at your hair follicles, and the harsh slapping of skin filling the room. he needs to take you in the most humiliating way, he wants to make you feel all sorts of ways while all he does is snicker about how good you clench on to him in a lewd position.

rival!gojo who often thought about calling you his cum-slut, while he’d make your pretty tongue lap up and down his thick dick groaning about making sure not to be an ungrateful whore and to swallow every last bit of him.

rival!gojo who can’t tell if he wants to fuck the shit out of you or if he wants you to fuck the shit out of him.

rival!gojo who encourages you to wear shorts and tight clothing while sparring. he literally just wants to make you comfortable, nothing at all hidden underneath.

rival!gojo who just takes his sweet time trailing his eyes all around the curves of your body before smiling softly.

“something caught your eye satoru?”  “ohhhhhhh, nothing. just studying your technique.” “is my technique my ass?” “what? a man can’t make sure you have good form?”

rival!gojo who can sense with his six eyes that he gets you wet, he knows that you know which makes it all the better. 

rival!gojo who laughs at you making comments about him probably acting all high and mighty due to a lack of “something.” was it sex? was it his dick? “wouldn’t you like to know pervert?" oh how he wish he can just make you feel the depth of his dick by making you look at the bulge he'd make in your tummy.

rival!gojo who actually does get in a heated making out session with you; hair gripping, tongues slick against each other, moans trapped in each others mouths, dry humping like a bitch in heat, lips engulfing one another. “who the fuck knew that gojo satoru was a needy bitch?” you say breathless, a string of saliva connecting your shameful lips together. “oh please, i was doing the world a favor by shutting you up.”

rival!gojo who finds himself panting as well, dazed out expression, foreheads still touching one another as noses nudge. he huffs slightly, rosy hue scattered across his face. “one more time.” he states breathless, eyes half-lidded. “kiss me one more time,” his voice continues off while you snake an arm around his neck drawing fingertips up and down his undercut. with his eyes shutting softly a sudden gulp, “need to make sure i hated it as much as you did. yeah, yeah, something like that.” he murmurs off before your heads are titling slightly, eyes both shut tight as lips press together on a soft impact. juxtaposing the messy, down-right nasty, desperate exchange of saliva masked as a “kiss.”

rival!gojo who finds out himself that your lips were indeed, soft and he liked the feeling of them pressed against his more than off.

rival!gojo who has to hold himself back from absolutely demolishing your pussy in the middle of combat. through growing pants, you squint your eyes at him from a distance. “g-growing weak satoru.” he’d only blink slightly, shaking his head mentally, the thought of having you pant for other reasons goes on in his head. while staring at your face, “huh, guess i am.”

rival!gojo who jokes that one day he’ll make you cry. unaware of what he meant by that, you only roll your eyes at his statement. although he would kill to hurt you, he wasn’t lying, he would kill even more to see your precious eyes drown in tears of pleasure when taking his fat cock in inch by inch. 

rival!gojo who has you pinned with your hands above your head as he pushes his muscular upper body into yours, feeling every rigid of muscle on your own. “are you purposely trying to be weak or do you just want an excuse to be used as a rag-doll?” pressing more of his body weight on yours, the clothing unable to hold a barrier of the heat and desire emitted off you two. He grinned, voice dropping an octave, his breath hitting your nose, “you disgust me.” quickly flipped the narrative so he was underneath, arms pinned up above his head while your bottom half straddles his groin. a thick, rock-hard sensation felt underneath you, clothing still having a hard time masking your pulsating clit and his dick that’s twitching. staring directly into his cerulean eyes, “clearly, not enough.”

rival!gojo who just knows your pussy is tight and lethal. he knows you’re practically walking around with a pool drenched between your legs waiting to be spread out by him. it’s even worse knowing that he is right. he thinks he can fix that nasty behavior right out of you with a good ol’ lesson on his cock.

rival!gojo who wants nothing more to completely get lost in your pussy, spending hours either making you cry from his dick or convulsing on his tongue.

rival!gojo who is still patient. patiently waiting for the day you slip up before he thinks of casually slipping his 8 inches in your silky folds. little does gojo know that day will be approaching sooner than later.

[suiana]

(yandere! infected harem x gn! reader) (HEAVILY inspired by LT may's book 'infected' on wattpad, go read it!!!)

This was exactly like a zombie infection. No, it was worse.

You couldn't even remember how it all started. You were just sitting in class one day, listening to your tutor yap about something boring when all of a sudden you heard people screaming.

The once peaceful world you knew was suddenly turned upside down. Everyone had changed for the worse, or better, if you see it from their perspective.

The infected, that's what people are calling them.

They're insane, crazy, obsessive. The epitome of what people once called toxic. But now, it's becoming the norm. And it's all because of that crazy scientist who developed this infection and made it an airborne virus.

You see this as something like a zombie infection. The people who're infected... they're practically... dead. Well, not really. They turn alive once they see their darlings. Right, darlings. That's what the infected are calling the uninfected.

But anyway, these infected people are practically zombies now. Like, enhanced zombies? Maybe? Their physical abilities are no joke, not to mention how much smarter they've all become. And their emotions... God, they're like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

The worst part is, the love emotion has spiralled out of control. All their passion, love, intrusive thoughts... They've lost all sense of rationality when it comes to their beloved darlings. They've become crazy in love for anyone they've had their eyes on prior to the infection. That's why the infected turn alive when they see their darlings. That's why so many people are going missing. That's why you call this a zombie infection.

Because somehow, someway, if you're uninfected and you get caught by an infected... Chances are, you're likely to turn infected as well. Apparently everyone breathed in the infection virus, some just react to it faster than others, hence the huge outbreak of infecteds. Those who didn't turn yet are apparently stronger in health or simply can't react to the infection.

And that's what brings you to your current situation. As an uninfected with their morality and common sense still in-tact.

It's crazy how the people you once called your friends are acting like monsters for their lovers now. You still can't wrap your head around that fact. But to everyone else who got infected it's nothing but a small step to get their darlings.

You can't stand it.

Why is everyone acting like this is something normal? Just a few weeks ago they'd all call this act immoral and simply insane! And now they're doing the same exact thing they vowed to never do? God you absolutely despise that scientist who created this infection.

The same can't be said for the people who are infected though, especially... your admirers.

Look! There's one right now.

"Darling! Has your infection kicked in yet?"

A cheery voice hums, a cute boy coming into view as he stares at you with the most lovesick eyes you've ever seen. Oh, right, forgot to mention but the infection takes place differently in everyone. Apparently it takes form based on your true personality, or whatever the fuck that means.

Meaning that if you were shy prior to the infection, you'd be more shy with your love. Your true personality would either turn you into a clingy wet kitten desperate for your darling's love or to a crazy homicidal maniac that goes insane if their love is not reciprocated. The infected would still be obsessive and possessive to a certain extent. But the rest of the traits are completely dependent on how you really were before getting infected.

And this guy was your friend who was super fucking clingy before the infection. Turns out he was in love with you and the infection just made things a hundred times worse.

"Um, no-"

"Why not? I can't wait for your affection!"

"Uh-"

"Pipe down shorty. You're making them uncomfortable."

Ah, how could you have forgotten that you not only had one admirer, but another one? Actually, scratch that. You had more than 2. Everyday there would be more and more people confessing their love to you, so much that you began to lose count of how many people held you in their hearts.

But there were 4 prominent people who stood out with their affections. And these 2 were it. Unfortunately.

Because even though one was more clingy and the other was more aloof, they had murdered the other admirers ruthlessly in cold blood. At least the aloof one had the decency to wash off the blood before coming to you. This clingy one came to you, all wide eyed and smiley, thinking you'd hug him when he was drenched in blood.

The fact that laws had been changed too didn't help either. People could now openly commit crimes that were once deemed illegal as long as they were proven to be done in the name of love. How cruel.

"Can you both just leave me alone?"

You grumble, glaring at your two admirers as you hide your face in your hands. You were so fucking tired of it all. Not only were you constantly on edge because you were uninfected and could be killed because you looked at someone a little too long, but you also had to deal with the weight of being so many people's obsessions.

This cursed dystopian world that changed in the blink of an eye... Ah, you had only wished you treasured the sweet days of the old world a little more.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ From Podiums to Playpens | LN4 & OP81

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Lando and Oscar’s lives take a wild turn when an unexpected baby crash-lands at their doorstep. With zero parenting skills and all the wrong instincts, they bumble through diaper disasters and frantic calls, discovering that the only thing harder than winning a Grand Prix is keeping a tiny human alive!

A/N: Inspired by the fanart @mecachrome did of Oscar and Lando holding the baby, though this is exactly the opposite of what happened in the artwork 😝. Also I can't confirm if this will have a part 2 or not so sorry to everyone in advance for that and the cringey song at the end 🫠.

LANDO NORRIS MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | OSCAR PIASTRI MASTERLIST

Oscar Piastri had a problem. A big, life-altering, scream-inducing problem.

He was many things: a rising Formula 1 star, a recent Monaco resident, and a man who liked things calm and orderly. What he was not, however, was someone equipped to handle finding a baby on his doorstep.

Yet, here he was.

At 8:00 AM, standing in the doorway of his new Monaco apartment, staring at a very real, very giggly baby girl bundled in pink. She was nestled in a stroller beside what looked like a mountain of baby supplies, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d just detonated Oscar’s entire sense of normalcy.

He stared blankly at the tiny human swaddled in pink, her wide, curious eyes blinking up at him as she gurgled happily in her stroller. His brain was stuck in neutral, wheels spinning but going absolutely nowhere. There was a baby on his doorstep, and not in a cute, ‘aww, how nice’ way. This was in the ‘what fresh hell is this?!’ kind of way.

Oscar re-read the note attached to the stroller for the tenth time.

Oscar blinked, reread the note, then blinked some more. “Tim? Who the hell is Tim?!”

Dear Tim,

I’m leaving the country. You can take care of Amelie now. She’s your daughter too. Good luck.

—Evelyn

This was not Oscar’s baby. Oscar had no babies. Babies did not spontaneously appear in Formula 1 drivers’ lives, certainly not on doorsteps. But there she was, this tiny little bundle of chaos just... chilling. Like she was meant to be there, like this was her grand entrance into his thoroughly unprepared life.

Panic hit Oscar like a sledgehammer. He paced in frantic circles, one hand on his phone and the other on his head, like physically holding onto his hair would stop his brain from leaking out of his ears.

He needed backup. No, he needed a miracle.

Oscar frantically dialed the only person dumb enough to know what to do in a situation like this: Lando Norris.

The phone barely rang twice before Lando picked up, sounding as annoyingly chipper as ever. “Hey, Osc! What’s up?”

“There’s a baby on my doorstep.”

There was silence on the other end.

“...What?”

“A baby. There is a living, breathing baby. On. My. Doorstep.”

Lando laughed, but not the good kind of laugh, the kind that suggested he thought Oscar was messing with him. “Mate, what? You sure it’s not a prank? Did someone send you one of those doll things? Is it like, a fan thing?”

“I’m not joking, Lando! There’s a real baby with a note that says I’m supposed to take care of her. Only, I’m not Tim. I don’t even know who Tim is! She’s right here, staring at me. What do I do?!”

Lando, clearly suppressing laughter, said, “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m on my way. Hold the fort, mate.”

“Hurry!” He said, squatting down, staring at the baby like she was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode into tears, vomit, or... whatever babies did. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m not built for this.”

Twenty minutes (that felt like twenty years) later, Lando burst through the door with all the grace of a caffeinated squirrel, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Where’s this mystery baby? Let me see the little rascal!” Lando scanned the apartment and spotted the baby, his face lighting up like it was Christmas morning. “Oh my God, look at her! She’s so tiny!”

Lando immediately dropped to his knees and scooped up Amelie without hesitation, hoisting her into the air like she was Simba from The Lion King. “Aw, hi, Milly!”

“Milly?” Oscar repeated, a horrified expression plastered on his face. “You already named her?”

“Amelie’s too formal for a baby, don’t you think?” Lando said, casually ignoring Oscar’s panicked state. He bounced Milly in his arms, pulling silly faces at her. “See? She loves me.”

Oscar stared at him in disbelief. “Lando, focus! We need a plan! We’re not renaming the baby; we’re getting her out of here!”

Milly just let out a joyful giggle, tiny fists batting at Lando’s face. Oscar’s eyes widened in horror as Lando juggled the baby like a sack of flour, his nerves stretched thinner by the second. “Lando, stop! You’re gonna drop her! Babies are fragile!”

“Nah, she’s tough. Look at her! Strong grip. Good potential for karting,” Lando said, wiggling his fingers in front of Milly’s face. “Who’s a future world champion, huh? You are!”

Oscar grabbed the back of the couch like it was his last lifeline to sanity. “This is insane. We’re not keeping her. We need to call someone. Her real dad. Where the hell is Tim?!”

“Oh, relax,” Lando waved a hand dismissively, “it’s just babysitting for a few hours. How hard can it be? The mom even dropped off all the supplies we might need!”

Turns out, it was really fucking hard

By midday, the chaos had reached DEFCON 1. Lando had somehow managed to knock over a stack of baby formula cans in the kitchen while Oscar was trying to decipher the instructions on how to make a bottle.

“This says... 50ml of water for every scoop of formula,” Oscar muttered, staring at the weird spoon-thing. “But how big is the scoop? What the hell is a scoop measurement?”

Lando, who was now wearing Milly in a baby carrier that he had insisted on trying out, leaned over the counter and squinted at the instructions. “It’s like... a baby science experiment. Just add more water, it’ll balance out.”

“That’s not how science works, Lando!”

“Sure it is!” Lando grinned, opening the microwave to heat the bottle, but then proceeded to accidentally set it for five minutes instead of thirty seconds. How someone even manages to do that Oscar will never know.

Inevitably the bottle exploded.

Milk sprayed everywhere, coating the inside of the microwave in an unholy mess. Oscar screamed. “What did you do?!”

“I thought that’s how long babies need it!” Lando yelped, staring in horror at the milk-splosion.

Milly, blissfully unaware of the carnage, was happily chewing on one of Lando’s shirt buttons.

Oscar stared at the ceiling, praying for strength. “We are going to kill this baby. We’re going to accidentally kill her.”

Lando, ever the optimist, patted Oscar on the back. “Nah, babies are resilient. They’ve got, like, soft heads, right? So they can handle stuff.”

“That’s the opposite of what soft heads mean, Lando!”

Lando grabbed a spoon and casually scooped up some of the spilled milk, giving it a taste. “Hmm. Tastes weird.”

“STOP EATING THE BABY’S MILK, LANDO!”

After the bottle fiasco, they decided to tackle diaper duty. Or rather, Oscar decided, while Lando found new and creative ways to not help. At one point, Lando was making airplane noises with Milly’s pacifier while Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, furiously Googling “how to change a diaper without gagging.”

“This can’t be that hard,” Lando said confidently, grabbing a diaper and attempting to strap it onto Milly’s squirming body. He failed. Multiple times.

“You’re putting it on backwards,” Oscar muttered, half in disbelief.

“Am I? Wait, which side is the front?”

Oscar was too stressed to even respond, choosing instead to help flip the diaper the right way around. But Milly had other ideas. She kicked her tiny legs, laughing as both boys fumbled with the diaper tabs.

After several failed attempts and at least two accidental kicks to Oscar’s face, they stood back and admired their work. The diaper was barely holding together, half askew and duct-taped in place because Lando thought duct tape “solved all problems.”

Oscar looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. “We duct-taped a baby.”

“She seems cool with it!” Lando pointed at Milly, who was now rolling around happily in her makeshift duct tape diaper. “Duct tape solves everything!”

Oscar grabbed his phone. “This is not sustainable. I need to call someone. We can’t keep doing this. I need to find Tim.”

Several hours later, after a very frustrating call with his real estate agent, Oscar finally got a number for Tim—the previous tenant, who, as it turns out, had moved to America. 

Oscar punched in the number, already bracing himself for the nightmare conversation ahead. Lando sat cross-legged on the floor, Milly in his lap, reading her a book that was upside down?

Tim picked up after a few rings, his voice groggy and irritated. “Hello?”

Oscar wasted no time. “Timothy?! It’s Oscar. I live in your old apartment in Monaco. Listen, there’s a baby here. Your baby. Evelyn dropped her off with a note and now she’s... well, she’s here, with us. What do we do?!”

There was a brief silence, followed by a sound like a man whose soul had just left his body. “Oh, fuck,” Tim groaned. “Evelyn left her? Again?”

“Again?!” Oscar sputtered. “This is a thing that she does? she just goes around... leaving the baby lying around like a sack of potatoes?”

Tim let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, man, I’m in New York, okay? I got stuck with this job, corporate America’s been eating me alive. I’m lucky if I can get ten minutes of daylight. I haven’t even unpacked yet and now you’re telling me Evelyn just dropped Amelie off without a heads-up?”

Oscar’s jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack. “She didn’t just drop her off—she basically abandoned her and ran! What am I supposed to do with her? I’m a Formula 1 driver, not... not a babysitter!”

Lando, overhearing this, piped up helpfully, “We duct-taped her diaper! Worked like a charm.”

Tim screeched on the other end. “You what?”

“Look, it was either that or she’d be laying around butt naked,” Oscar said, rubbing his temples as he paced. “Focus! I need you to come back and get her, like, now. Please.”

“Man, I wish I could!” Tim sounded frantic now, as if the weight of the universe had just been dumped on him. “But I’m up to my neck in work! I’ve got back-to-back meetings, deadlines, projects—I can’t just hop on a plane!”

“Are you kidding me right now? You can’t just leave your baby with two random blokes! What kind of corporate job is this? Are they holding you hostage?”

Tim let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, might as well be! Thanks, late-stage capitalism. I’m chained to a desk, and Evelyn’s probably off somewhere sipping cocktails while you two... duct-tape diapers together?!” He sounded like he was spiraling. “Why is my life like this?”

Oscar was losing his grip on sanity. “What are we supposed to do, Tim? We’re trying here, but we can’t even heat up a bottle without blowing up the microwave! She’s going to be in worse shape than we are if this keeps up!”

Tim let out an exasperated groan. “You think I’m not freaking out here? I don’t want to leave her with you two! But I can’t do anything about it! I’ll have to talk to my boss, and that’ll take days—corporate policies, you know how it is.”

Oscar slumped against the wall. “Tim, I swear to God, if you don’t get on a plane soon, Lando will start raising her to be the next world champion, she’ll probably know more about tire degradation than I do by the time you’re back!”

Tim started to ramble, sounding more unhinged by the second. “Oh, I’m gonna kill Evelyn. I swear, if I ever make it out of this job alive, I’m flying back just to wring her neck. She’s gonna pay for this, and I’m gonna—”

Oscar interrupted him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tim, focus! Just tell us what to do. You’re the dad, for God’s sake!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Tim practically shrieked, his voice going full meltdown mode. “Change her, feed her, keep her alive! That’s all I’ve got. Just... just don’t screw it up!”

“Don’t screw it up?!” Oscar was losing his mind. “That’s your parenting advice?”

Tim sighed heavily. “Look, I’ll try to get there as soon as I can. Maybe two weeks, tops. In the meantime, you’re it. You’re her only hope.”

Oscar stared at the phone, incredulous. “Two weeks?!”

“Yeah, yeah, two weeks. You’ve got this, man,” Tim said hurriedly, like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. “You’re a driver. You’re adaptable. Just, uh, adapt to... fatherhood.”

Oscar hung up, staring blankly at Lando, who was now trying to teach Milly how to fist bump.

“So... what did he say?” Lando asked, not looking up from Milly’s tiny fist.

Oscar felt like his life was spiraling out of control. “He’s not coming back for two weeks.”

Lando, completely unbothered, grinned. “So… we’re keeping her?”

Oscar buried his face in his hands. “We are not keeping her. This is temporary. I am not a dad, and I’m not about to become one!”

Lando shrugged, giving Milly a finger to grab. “Relax, Osc. It’s just babysitting. We’ve got this.”

Oscar collapsed onto the couch, defeated. “We’re screwed.”

Lando grinned, still blissfully optimistic. “Nah, we got this. How hard can it be?”

Famous last words.

By the time evening rolled around, Oscar was teetering on the edge of a complete nervous breakdown. His hair stuck out in every direction, dark circles framed his eyes, and he was sporting the look of a man who had seen too much in one day. Meanwhile, across the room, Lando was in his own little world, completely oblivious to the chaos he had helped create.

“Please fall asleep,” Oscar muttered, his head in his hands as he slumped into the couch. He shot a pleading glance at Milly, who was, of course, still wide awake, her big eyes blinking up at him like she was in on the joke. “Please, I am begging you.”

Milly giggled in response, showing no signs of slowing down. If anything, she seemed to be gaining more energy as the night went on. And Lando, ever the optimist, had decided the solution to everything was a lullaby.

A lullaby that had nothing to do with actual lullabies and everything to do with... Formula 1.

“Alright, alright,” Lando said, grinning like this was the best night of his life. He cradled Milly in his arms, swaying back and forth like some deranged nanny. “You wanna hear a song, Milly? ‘Course you do.”

Oscar groaned into his hands. “Lando, for the love of God, just—”

Too late. Lando had already kicked into full performance mode, belting out a song so chaotic and nonsensical it would’ve made any sane adult bash their head into the wall

He bounced Milly with every line, and to Oscar’s absolute horror, she loved it. She giggled like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, her little fists grabbing onto Lando’s shirt as if demanding more.

“♪ Ohhh, race cars and pit stops,

Tires go screech, engines go vroom!

Zoom around the track, don’t look back,

Lap time’s dropping, we’re gonna attack! ♪”

Oscar rubbed his temples harder, as if somehow massaging his skull would stop the growing headache. “Why are you like this?”

But Lando was in the zone, not stopping for anything. He twirled in a circle with Milly, who was now laughing uncontrollably and continued the absolute madness.

Oscar looked on, his mind unraveling. This wasn’t a lullaby. This was... some kind of fever dream. Lando, still dancing around the living room like he was in a one-man musical, clearly had no idea how to get babies to sleep.

“♪ Pit lane’s calling, gotta switch the tires!

Box, box, baby, we’re dodging all the fires!

Fuel up quick, no time to chill,

We’re racing to bedtime, going in for the kill! ♪”

“Lando,” Oscar said through gritted teeth, “she’s supposed to be winding down, not revving up!”

Lando shot him a cheeky grin. “It’s working, mate. Look at her. She’s loving it!”

Milly squealed in delight, grabbing onto Lando’s face and pulling at his cheeks, while Lando just kept on singing like it was the most normal thing in the world.

We’re gonna celebrate with a chicken dinner! ♪”

“♪ Final lap, we’re almost there,

Through the checkered flag, feel the air!

Who needs sleep when you’re almost a winner?

Oscar could only groan in despair as Lando finished with an overly dramatic spin, still holding Milly like she was some kind of victory trophy. She clapped her tiny hands together, thoroughly entertained, while Oscar’s sanity crumbled just a little more.

Lando grinned as he plopped down on the couch next to Oscar, baby Milly perched on his knee like a royal princess. “See? We’ve got this.”

Oscar’s eye twitched. “Lando. Why do you keep saying that?”

Lando shrugged, completely at ease. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Oscar stared at him, wide-eyed, as if trying to mentally telepathize all of the worst possible things that could happen, starting with the fact that they were two twenty-something Formula 1 drivers responsible for a baby for the next two weeks.

Milly, still very much not asleep, gurgled happily and slapped Lando’s cheek, clearly delighted by the chaos she had caused.

Oscar leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling in defeat. “I’m not going to get a single second of sleep these two weeks, am I?”

Lando beamed at him, completely unfazed. “Nope. Welcome to fatherhood, mate.”

Oscar groaned and pulled a cushion over his face, muffling his scream as Milly giggled uncontrollably at his suffering.

This was going to be the longest two weeks of his life.

[enwoso]

Kyra loving to mess with Lovie but she takes it too far one day and lovie gets very upset and tells on Kyra to alessia and Steph. Maybe Kyra hides esme the elephant and Lovie is in desperate need of a nap and can’t sleep without it

NOT COOL — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

you and kyra had a special type of relationship, maybe that's because kyra was like a big kid and loved doing silly things with you. like colouring in your entire arms with paint or making you own little world out of a cardboard box.

but kyra also loved to be a pest and that meant messing with you and sometimes pushing the wrong buttons. usually you wouldn't mind it and would find the funniness out of the joke.

but today kyra had taken it too far.

she had been taking your toys one by one and hiding them from you or putting them out of your reach before giving it back to you. but right now she holding your barbie in the air, as you struggled to reach it.

the young australian lifting it higher in her hand with each jump you did to try and get it. kyra giggling to herself as she watched you struggle and start to get frustrated.

you got bored of trying to get the barbie doll and wondered back off towards your mummy who was sat with steph as the talked over a coffee. alessia noticing you coming over with a sad frown on your face as she opened her arms for you to fall into.

"what's wrong lovie?" mummy asked as she lifted you onto her lap, steph sending you a small smile but the frown was still on your face.

"rara won't give me my barbie back" you pouted as you sunk into your mummy's arms. a small gasp came from steph as she shook her head.

"well we can't be having that, she's naughty isn't she" steph nodded as you said a small yes, a little chuckle came from alessia as usually it was you and kyra causing trouble together.

"i'll get your barbie back for you lovie, but do you want to have a little sleep while we are in the gym?" mummy asks as you nod. alessia could tell you were a little sleepy just from the way you wondered over. that and the fact you had basically sunk into her arms.

"i'll get your blankie from the car, okay" mummy says as she lifts you from her lap before mumbling to steph she wouldn't be long, steph just waving the blonde off as she rushed out the room her car keys jangling in her hand.

"wait, i need esme" you pouted as you eyes scanned around you from your favourite teddy. steph looking around too for you. "is that your elephant stuffy?" steph asked as you nodded.

"where did you have her last tiny?" steph asked as you sat for a moment in thought before perking up a little, "with rara"

"do you wanna go and see if esme is still in there, and i'll wait here?" steph suggested as you slipped down the seat and wondered into the room next door, to look for your elephant stuffy.

in the time you were in the room next door, alessia had came back with your blankie a puzzled look on her face to see you not sat with steph anymore.

"don't worry she's just gone to find her esme the elephant" steph smiled as alessia let out a sigh of relief.

"good she can't sleep without her little elephant, she's had it since she was born" alessia explained sitting back down in her seat as she lifted her coffee cup back up to her lips taking a sip, a small twist of the lips as the coffee had started to go cold.

the two fell back into conversation just as you wondered slowly through the door, a sad smile on your face. a one not two dissimilar to the one you first walked into the room with.

"i lost esme" you whispered, your bottom lip wobbling slightly as you walked into your mummy's arms. your mummy started to coo as you wondered into her arms, your entire mood deflated at the thought of looking your special esme elephant.

alessia knew it was only a matter of time before you would start to cry, it was like a ticking time bomb. you were going to boom any moment so alessia needed to find a solution and quick.

"can you remember where you had esme?" your mummy asked softly as she moved your loose hairs that had fallen from you bobbles out from your face as you shook your head, your bottom lip still wobbling. steph looking in with a pout.

“well i need to find it because she won’t have a nap or even sleep without it” alessia sighed as she tried to think of where you could of put the small elephant teddy.

“you don’t think kyra would have esme?” steph whispered as you’d moved so that your head was now buried in your mummy’s chest as you twirled the ends of your hair around your finger. a motion you only ever did if you were tired.

“more likely to of hid it” alessia grumbled, her and steph thinking of places alessia could look around the training ground. steph already agreeing to watch you as the blonde did the rounds of the training ground looking out for either kyra or esme the elephant. knowing whichever one she found first the other wouldn’t be far behind.

alessia began to peel you from her arms as you whined not wanting to let go, “no mummy-“ you pouted as you were placed on the coldness of the chair.

“lovie, mummy’s gonna go and find esme. you and steph can watch peppa on your ipad” alessia pointed towards steph who had your ipad in her hand tapping away at it.

you quietly groaned as tiredness was taking over your body as you slowly moved closer to steph so you could see what was on your ipad screen as alessia slipped out the room.

alessia should have known trying to find the young australian wouldn’t have been an easy task, alessia had looked in every corner, room even going as far to ask everyone she’s passed in the training ground and nobody had seen kyra. alessia was starting to think the girl had gone home.

“you haven’t seen kyra?” alessia asked leah who looked up from her laptop a shake of the head as alessia sighed moving onto the next spot.

stopping a few other of her teammates, manu, vic, laura, kim, stina. as they all gave the same answer, “no sorry” before telling the blonde who next to ask or where to look next. alessia feeling like she was detective trying to crack a high status case with nobody telling her the answer she wanted to hear.

“oh, have you seen kyra?” alessia asked katie as she passed her in the corridor, katie paused for a moment before shaking her head, “no what she done now?” katie laughed.

“she’s got lovies esme the elephant” alessia sighed as another laugh came from katie. “have you tried the gym? there’s a couple people in there i think” katie told alessia as she nodded taking the advice before thanking katie and moving further down the corridor.

"have any of you seen kyra?" alessia spoke fast as she poked her head through the gym doors beth and lia looked at the blonde before at each other before shaking their heads. "no why?"

"she's took lovie's teddy" alessia sighed as the two nodded, "and she won't have her nap without it"

"have you tried outside?" lia suggested as a slight smile came onto the blondes fast that was the one place she hadn't looked.

"your a genius lia!" before the two had a chance to response alessia was out the door rushing towards the pitches as lia and beth both looked at each other with a similar puzzled look on both their faces before they shrugged carrying on with their stretches.

alessia rushed towards the pitches seeing kyra in the distance playing with one of the footballs as she blasted it into the goal in the distance.

"kyra!" alessia yelled across the pitch as the young australian turned around her smile dropping when she saw the unfamiliar serious look on alessia's face, a one the young australian hadn't seen many times before.

"hi lessi" kyra said so innocently as with each step alessia took towards the australian, kyra would take to back. alessia rolling her eyes having very little patience for silly game after spending twenty minutes looking for the girl.

"drop the act, where's the elephant teddy?" alessia asked getting straight to the point as kyra just shrugged a smirk threatening to perk through her lips.

“what elephant? i haven’t seen no elephant?”

"kyra, this is not cool i'm being serious, she won't have her nap without it. where is it?" alessia asked a little more sternly this time as the australian sighed, feeling a tiny bit bad and the fact the game was over now.

"in my bag in the locker room." kyra said quietly as before kyra had even finished the word room alessia was rushing back from the pitches to the locker room where she’d started her search nearly thirty minutes ago.

making it back to the locker room and low and behold their was your esme, her head popping out the bag. it being very obvious really where it was, alessia being slightly annoyed with herself that she didn’t see it the first time she was in there.

shoving kyra’s bag back where it was when she first walked in she walked the long stretch of the corridor back to where you were sat with steph, esme the elephant held tightly in the blondes hand. part of being scared that if she did have even the slightest of looser grip on the teddy that it may go missing again.

walking through the double doors, steph immediately looking over a small sigh of relief coming from her as she looked back to where you were, still immensely engrossed in the peppa pig show on your ipad.

alessia walked a little closer holding the teddy up in the air like some sort of trophy and in a way it was as it meant you’ll finally be able to go for your nap. a small stifle of a laughter coming from steph at alessia’s actions.

you moving your head to look at what the commotion was in the room, looking and seeing your mummy walking towards you, a gasp coming from you as you made grabby hands for your esme. alessia lifting you from steph’s lap as you sunk into the warmth of your mummy’s arms.

“need i ask?” steph asked with a wince as she had a feeling already who esme the elephant had ended up a victim to. a shake of the head came from alessia as you settled into her arms, your teddy snuggled up to you as a comforting sigh fell from your lips as you eyes slowly began to flutter shut.

“she’s such a pest” steph joked as alessia hummed loudly agreeing, “she is — at times”

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

reader gets super drunk with the pogues so they have to call rafe to get her. And he wasn’t very happy

lets have a good time

pairing(s): bf!rafe cameron x gf!fem!reader , the pogues x reader

warnings: alcohol, pet names, almost a fight

summary: after having one too many to drink, your friends are forced to call your boyfriend.

authors note: thank you for the request!! enjoy :)

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“c’mon, sarah. please?” you whined.

“babe, you’ve already had way too much to drink,” she said with a chuckle.

you began to pout. “but rafe never lets me drink and we haven’t all been together in sooo long,” you dragged. “this is like—like the one night we can have fun. so why not enjoy it.”

“you’re enjoyin’ it alright,” jj joked, taking another sip from his beer.

that gave you an idea. jj always drank with you.

you turned to him with a smile and the two full shot glasses. “jj?”

he could never turn down alcohol. “why not?”

you cheered and handed him one of the shots before counting down, connecting your lips with the glass and leaning your head back as the burn slid down your throat.

the two of you high fived each other before starting to pour yourselves another.

“you think we’ll have to call him tonight?” john b asked, standing with pope, sarah, and kiara as they watched the two take more shots.

sarah nodded. “definitely. she’s not walking in this state.”

“he’s gonna be pissed,” pope said.

“so pissed,” kiara agreed.

sarah sighed and shifted her weight to one foot. “who’s gonna do it this time?”

john b and pope put their fingers on their noses quickly. once kie noticed, she did the same.

“not fair,” the blonde said. “i don’t wanna text him.”

kiara laughed. “he’s your brother. if he hears it from us, he’d probably run us all over on the way here.”

she sighed but pulled out her phone and began to search for his contact to call him instead while you and jj were still drunkenly stumbling around each other, laughing uncontrollably, dancing to the music and taking another shot.

“what do you want?” he asked, voice louder now that he was on speaker.

sarah rolled her eyes. “can you come get y/n? we’ve all been drinking, some more than others, and i don’t think its a good idea for us to drive her home.”

“what the fuck, sarah? i told you about this shit already. stop—“

she hung up before he could get another word out. john b reached into the cooler and grabbed out some beers, handing one to each of the three. “we’re gonna need ‘em for this one.”

“it’s like a ticking time bomb,” kie said. “we’re basically sitting ducks right here.”

sarah shook her head. “he won’t do anything too bad. you know she doesn’t like when he gets all mouthy with us,” she replied, referring to you.

and in record breaking time, the big truck was pulling into the dead patch of grass on the side of the chateau.

you gasped when you saw your boyfriend approaching and immediately run up to him, without stumbling and tripping as much as you can, flinging your arms around him and holding yourself close to him. “hi, rafe,” you slurred against his chest.

“hi, baby,” he said softly. your balance was completely off. he wrapped his arms around you to ensure you wouldn’t fall then looked up to his sister and the rest of the pogues. “are you kidding me?”

sarah shrugged. “she was having fun, rafe. let her.”

“what did i tell you about this? look at her. she can barely even stand,” he spat angrily. “i told you to watch her. and you didn’t. you’re supposed to monitor how much she’s drinking so she doesn’t—“

“hey,” you mumbled quietly, leaning off his chest and stumbling back slightly to look at him. “‘s fine. ‘m fine. i was jus’ havin’ fun with my friends and—and i had a little too much. sarah even—even told me i was drinking too much. ‘s fine though. can we jus’ go home?” you slurred between hiccups.

he took a deep breath. he could never say no to you.

“c’mon,” he said softly. you waved goodbye to all your friends and with a hand on your back to keep you steady, he led you to the car. his hands found your waist to help you up into your seat, strapping you in then shutting the door and hastily walked around to the other side.

you giggled when he got in. “i had sooo much fun today, rafe.”

he smiled to himself and began to reverse out. “i can’t wait to hear all about it, sweetheart.”

[radioactive-mouse]

i keep thinking about like. how the brutality levels vary between seasons and how secret life is the natural culmination of everything these people have been through and the watchers pushing everything to extremes. i’m going to try to articulate how crazy this makes me

3rd Life: god. 3rd life was a clear cut war. we haven’t seen a season since where nearly everyone has such an intense devotion to their chosen faction. the fact that there’s no precedent that they’re coming back next season, the fact that as far as they know, dying means staying dead, makes just how much they’re willing to go down with the ship that much more heartbreaking. grian ended the season exactly how it was played by damn near everyone else— i love you, i would do anything for you, i would rather die than keep going without you. the season of widows.

Last Life: and then they come back. and then ending things isn’t an option. and all of a sudden it’s not a war, it’s a death match, and damn is the competition is vicious. deaths are more often than not a vague, impersonal thing— not get away from my king, my husband, my charge— just the flash of a knife and a quick sorry, just playing the game! if 3rd life told you to hold the ones you love close, defend them to your last breath, last life urges you to burn that love out of your chest entirely.

Double Life: but everything slows down eventually. no more dying for the one you love— just learning to live with them. double life is about knowing that when you die, you will go together, hand and hand into the dark. a soap opera, the players joke. a small kindness, the universe replies. again, pearl wins the same way everyone else lost— no, not yet, please, just give us a little longer together, i’m not ready, i’m so sorry—

Limited Life: but the clock, unyielding, ticks ever onward. and god, everyone is starting to feel it. that sick, nauseating feeling of dread creeping up on them: what if it never ends? what if this is it, this is all that’s left for us— tearing each other apart over and over and over again, and for what? for a show? to feed those hungry things lurking in the dark? we’ll give them a show. bombs rain from the sky, the world shaking under the weight of it. there isn’t a thing left by the end that’s not rubble. we’re all doomed! the players cry, laughing with nothing but nihilistic, unrestrained joy. none of it matters! we come back again, and again, and again, have a little fun with it! light the fuse, collateral be damned. when death means so little, what’s the point in pretending they don’t take a little joy in it? we settle this like grian and scar before us, scott jokes, armor and weapons tossed to the side. are you insane? martyn thinks, remembering the hollow look that would wash over grian’s face when he thought no one was watching. it ruined him. it will not ruin me. this is a death match for a reason.

Secret Life: and here it is. the natural conclusion. this season is candy colored, the map dotted with cute pink houses and silly builds, the players all running around doing these ridiculous tasks. it’s so easy to forget how bloody this season was. unclosing wounds, bruises that don’t fade, the sting of fire or falling from a simple misstep. the hurt never goes away, but it gets easier to ignore— distract yourself with something silly to pass the time: spyglasses and frogs and the ugliest house you’ve ever seen and matching leather jackets and the doghouse and the relationSHIP and a weird tunnel full of doors and secret soulmates and god it’s almost, almost, enough to forget how much it all aches, how much the grief weighs on you, how many times someone you love has died, sometimes to your own blade. almost none of the grudges you hold are real by now, not really. not when you’re going to live and die with these people for as long as the hungry, many-eyed things delight in your suffering. you love each other, in the strangest way— sure you’ve all killed and betrayed each other in a thousand different ways, but at the end of the day, they’re all you have. clinging to each other in the face of the vast, unknowable horrors that drive you to slash each other to pieces. it’s still a game, after all. they’ve gotta figure out how to be good sports about it eventually.

[the-w-in-wcorp]

@duskiecat @calamitytrios

[bachiras-toaster]

Bf!Rin headcanons? 🤭

RIN ITOSHI x gn!reader

authors notes. i am IN LOVE with rin so im glad i wrote this instead of my college essays

╰┈➤ the type of person to keep your relationship strictly private. in fact, it’s because he loves you so much that he wants to keep your relationship private.

╰┈➤ private, not secret.

╰┈➤ it was no surprise to the public when it was discovered that professional footballer, rin itoshi, was dating you, especially since you did have connections to the Itoshi brothers previously anyway.

╰┈➤ from the beginning, the paparazzi pressing on the matter pissed him off. he hated how interviewers would always eventually get to bringing your name up, because it meant that your relationship was starting to be shared with the world.

╰┈➤ but more than that, it was because he had a such a soft spot for you that he couldn’t help but become nervous when people brought you up. and as annoying as the interviewers were, he couldn’t stand to be mad at them when they gave him an excuse to talk about you.

╰┈➤ he’s probably half the reason your relationship wasn’t as private as he’d hoped. he was just such an unintentional blabbermouth.

╰┈➤ when you’re actually with him in public, he tends to get overprotective.

╰┈➤ when you’re in the streets, you need to be holding hands; when you’re at social gatherings, his palm needs to be attached to your hip.

╰┈➤ not just for safety reasons, but he supposed he also needed to constantly remind people that the two of you are together.

╰┈➤ when he realises that he’s getting approached by fans in the street, he’ll subtly hide you behind him so that you’re not pestered, and you’ll watch with a soft smile as rin is forced to take photos and sign autographs.

╰┈➤ despite maintaining a cold facade, he somehow manages to talk do gently when it’s to you.

╰┈➤ if the two of you are at a party he’s clearly uncomfortable being in, he’d slowly scoop your hands into his and plant a gentle kiss on your knuckle before muttering, “it’s getting loud. do you want to leave?”

╰┈➤ honestly, it’s quite impressive how quickly he’s able to switch tones.

╰┈➤ he can go from kindly whispering words of affirmation in your ear to screaming expletives to a random man, threatening to fight him where they stood and ordering him to stop hitting on you.

╰┈➤ rin’s jealousy is actually an unheard of level of rage.

╰┈➤ every time bachira jokes with you, isagi compliments you, or any of his other team members hang out with you one-on-one, it’s like a ticking time bomb in his mind. 

╰┈➤ rin trusts you with all his heart, but his possessiveness is a little louder than his compassion, and he’s rather eat both of his shoes than put you aline in a room with a man that isn’t him.

╰┈➤ he is willing to start the most outrageous scenes over it.

╰┈➤ once, shidou publicly dedicated a shot to you during an important match just to piss rin off, and he went ballistic.

╰┈➤ he had maintained himself on the pitch, but as soon as he reached the locker room, rin was already prepared to pack shidou up and send him to the emergency unit.

╰┈➤ a good fight definitely would have ensued, had he not been stopped by his teammates holding him back.

╰┈➤ plus, you continuously warned him not to fight because you hated seeing him show up to your dates with bruises and marks— his injuries from football were already enough. 

╰┈➤ he hated defying you, but sometimes he just really couldn’t help himself.

╰┈➤ the days where he would literally feel himself freeze before knocking on your apartment door because he knew that his injuries would tell you that he got into another fight were the worst for him.

╰┈➤ because you always looked at him with that certain face of disappointment before simply sighing and letting him in, ready to properly tend to his wounds.

╰┈➤ he’s so gentle when he’s in private with you.

╰┈➤ you could spend hours cradled in his arms, listening to the dulcet mumbles of his voice as he told you about his day.

╰┈➤ when be gets home from a match or training, all he wants to do is cuddle you mindlessly with a tv show in front.

╰┈➤ sometimes he’s mumble about how annoying his teammates were today and how he’s glad he can finally lay down with you.

╰┈➤ to many’s surprise, he’s really the sweetest boyfriend ever.

[alittlebitofsainz]

- sunshine -

prompt: “you give me hope when the dark clouds fill the sky, you always find a way through, my little ray of sunshine.”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: they say first is the worst, second is the best, but what about if you were so close to first place? 100% inspired by the events of this weekend lando stop being so mean to yourself pls and thank u xoxo

warnings: lando being a miserable little so and so. the usual swear words.

a/n: I’m BACK! I moved house and then just became very busy and also rather uninspired. not sure if I’m 100% happy with this but I just wanted to post something!! missed u all heaps and heaps, hope to keep writing more very soon xx lyrics from track #67 sunshine by the brummies. thought this band were from good ol’ birmingham west midlands but turns out they’re from birmingham alabama

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

it wasn’t uncommon for lando to be like this.

he’d gotten a lot better over recent years, but every so often the self-criticism would creep in again. you could anticipate it coming; it would start with little comments, a muttered “lando, you fucking idiot” to himself here and there, self deprecating jokes to interviewers about that final corner where he’d gone off and ruined his lap. it could go on like that for a while, until eventually something would set him off properly, like a ticking time bomb that had gradually been building pressure until it was ready to explode.

“fuck sake.”

you watched as lando trailed through the garage, a string of curses muttered through gritted teeth as he passed, seeking solace from the TV cameras. admittedly, you could understand his frustration; even you had thrown your hands up in the air as he’d been squeezed out of first place on the very first corner. it was unlucky, but it was also his own fault for making a mistake: lando knew it, you knew it, and you also knew that he was feeling it. you watched him go past and disappear off down the corridor, no doubt heading for the solace of his drivers room. you paused, weighing up your options for just a moment.

“Lan?”

the echo of your knock on his drivers room door reverberated down the corridor. the mclaren motorhome was a ghost town, reminding you of the fact that everyone else was out celebrating - everyone but lando, rather ironically.

a noise came from inside the room, no doubt lando grumbling something inaudible under his breath as he made his way across the room, before the door eventually opened. you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped you - it had been such a long while since you’d seen him this way. it was subtle; the average person may not have even picked up on it, but you could always tell. It was his eyes, they somehow lacked the hues of green and blue they usually possessed, instead reflecting back a washed out grey colour, like the light had gone out from behind them.

“you got p2, Lan.” you reminded him softly as he stepped away, a silent invitation for you to come in. you knew those words wouldn’t help.

“it should’ve been p1.” came the mumbled reply from where lando had sunk back down on the sofa. you kicked the door closed behind you and made your way over to sit down beside him, your shoulder pressed into his.

“but you were so close, lan, a few more laps and you would’ve got him, I know it.”

“I know I was close!” your response had touched upon something lando didn’t want to hear, a fact you were made very aware of from the bitterness in his tone as he snapped back at you, “but I wasn’t close enough. I fucked up on that first corner. the team deserved better.”

you leaned back on the sofa, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you mulled over your next words. you’d been here before, in this vicious cycle where the more you tried to remind lando how incredible he was, the more he’d refute it, the more frustrated and self critical he’d become. one of those times, he’d told you that you wouldn’t understand, and it had hurt. it had hurt because you knew it was true. you didn’t understand. you didn’t understand how lando could be such a great driver and still best himself up over the smallest of mistakes.

“‘m sorry. didn’t mean to shout at you.”

you glanced up from where your gaze had drifted down to your lap as you’d been considering your response, only to find your eyes locked with lando’s grey ones, full of something you quickly identified as remorse. he’d mistaken your silence, assumed that you’d been wounded by the sharpness in his tone, when in reality you had barely registered it - you knew his fleeting anger wasn’t directed at you. it was directed at himself.

“no, no, don’t worry ‘bout it. I was just thinking, that’s all.” you sat back up quickly, shaking your head as you forced your expression to soften, “I know there’s nothing I can say to make this better, to make you see how well you did today, but-“

“just you being here is enough.”

the reply with which he cut you off was so quiet that you had to tilt your head and give lando a questioning look, one that told him you weren’t quite sure you’d heard him right. he let out a soft sigh, eyes directed to the floor, the faintest hint of red colouring his cheeks as he cleared his throat.

“I said, you being here is enough. with me.” he clarified, voice just a little louder than before.

“Lan, there’s nowhere else I would be right now, you know that.” you dropped your voice, matching his soft tone. an instinctive hand came to rest upon his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I just mean-“ lando shifted slightly to face you, expression swimming with a quiet admiration, “I don’t always make it… easy.”

you let out a chuckle at that, despite the situation, and it earned you a raised eyebrow and the smallest hint of a smile from lando.

“what I’m trying to say is,” lando continued, “I really appreciate you sticking with me. not just now, but, like, through everything. even when I’m like this.” lando gestured vaguely around the room, but he didn’t even need to for you to know exactly what he meant.

“even when you’re grumpy.” you clarified helpfully. that one earned you a playful scowl.

“I wasn’t gonna put it like that.” he complained, but his tone was lighter than before. “and anyway, I was trying to be serious, don’t ruin it.”

you held your hands up in mock surrender and stifled another laugh, before letting out a soft sigh, observing lando quietly for a moment.

“I’m always on your side, Lan, even if you’re not.” the sincerity in your tone was reflected in your expression as you held his gaze for a moment more, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, his hand finding your own as your fingers intertwined.

it was perfect and peaceful, until it wasn’t. until a knock at the door and the voice of lando’s pr manager brought you both back down to earth, reminding lando that it was time to go out and deal with the interviews. he let out a sigh, reverting back to the solemn state you’d found him in, and you wished you could make it all go away, to tell all the reporters to fuck off. but as you flicked your gaze back to lando, catching his eye as he stood up and smoothed the base of his fireproofs, you realised that he was going to be fine: he flashed you a lopsided smile, and for a moment the afternoon sunlight caught his eyes, the flecks of blue and green dancing across them once again. yeah, you were both going to be fine.

you flashed him a final smile as he slipped out of the drivers room, leaving you alone in there with your thoughts until he returned.

a/n: as always, I might add more to this if I feel so inclined! let me know if you want to be tagged xo

[urhoneycombwitch]

i fumbled and deleted the original request... insert ovulation dry humping anon req here (anon I deeply apologize 😭)

<3 <3 <3

foreword: okay no literally ovulation happens once a month. every month. since I was young. and somehow it’s still a surprise every time??? wtf. relatable tho. you know I’m always down for some slutty over the clothes action w/Eddie+R so here’s more of that love u 5ever thanks for sending <3

cw: pov Eddie, LTR, pet names (babe, sweetheart), soft!dom Eddie, reader is gn, r has breasts + vagina, ovulation, smut, dry humping, scent kink (if you squint), you-know-who cums in his pants king <3 +18 MDNI!!!

wc: 1.4k

____

It’s halfway through Saturday when Eddie realizes the source of your discomfort. 

You’ve been on edge since the morning, grumbly far past the mug of coffee that usually improved your mood.

Unable to settle, you’d been flitting from one task to the next, muttering curses at the underside of the fridge shelves or scoured sinks. When Eddie offered to help, you’d snapped at him- with no real bite to your voice, but sharp enough to send him back a step.

“Sorry.” Your apology came swift as the bark before it, back turned at the sink, shoulders tight and trembling with exertion in the pause. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I’m just… I didn’t sleep well, or something. Sorry.”

Eddie approached the angry, sparking form of you, uncaring if he got burnt in the process- but his arm seemingly slipped between the defensive shield, taut as a seatbelt across your chest and just as grounding. 

He felt the resistance from the tip of your toes to the top of your spine, wound tight but not enough to keep you from yielding a bit into his hold; Eddie dipped his chin to your shoulder, kissed over the flannel, then one at your bare neck- “S’okay. Want some help?”

Testing the waters of your irritation, Eddie had an inkling this mood might be hormone-related, further proved by the way you were unintentionally pressing back into his body; if he had to guess, you were less a ticking time bomb and more like a hostile cat, touch-starved and willing to be stroked into good behavior. 

“I’m almost done.” In answer, your voice was weary and strung-out, sponge squeezed in your grip like a lifeline. “And then I’ll do the oven, which I don’t particularly want your help with- no offense.”

Eddie wasn’t offended in the slightest, not with you melting like butter in his arms and the incident from last autumn cleaning still scorched in his nasal memory. “None taken. If I burn my eyebrows off again you’ll kick me to the curb, I know the rules.”

That got a half-smile, hard-won, and Eddie kissed it from your lips before making a retreat for the outdoors, with a few last remarks about being the Man of the House and doing some Manscaping (in truth, the outdoor shed is mostly used for dust collection purposes, but you laughed so he’s taking the win). 

Eddie strips down to his black undershirt, spring air fresh and sun mild as he sweeps the front porch and steps. He makes sure to cross in front of the kitchen window’s path a few times, on the off chance you want to ogle at the extra skin and back muscles in secret. 

When he heads indoors to wash up, you’ve beat him to the punch, perched on the couch with a book, in a fresh t-shirt and pair of clean jeans. 

“What a gorgeous sink,” he comments from the kitchen, sloughing the accumulated grime from between his fingers and rings. “Looks too clean and fancy for lil’ old me. Might wanna banish me to the outdoor hose from now on.”

The corner of your mouth lifts to show you’re listening, but the joke isn’t enough to smooth the deep frown lines from your pretty face as you glower at the pages in your lap. 

Eddie flings himself onto the couch beside you, budging up obnoxiously close so he can see the new object of your vexation.

“It’s from the library, due in two days so I’m trying to finish,” you say by way of explanation, eyes fixed on the print as Eddie hooks his chin over your shoulder.

There’s over half the novel left. “Babe, I don’t think humankind was made to read that much Salinger in one weekend. It’ll make you batty.”

“Fair point.” Taking the bid to set the distraction aside, you toss it with a thunk on the coffee table.

Eddie feels your sigh, head lifting at the deep rise and fall. Even if your internal systems are fighting it, there’s a soft longing with which you move, in the tiny ways you open for Eddie, or shift to be closer- it’s a confusing opposition of signals, and Eddie might be hopeless if he hadn’t made it his life’s mission to study you completely. 

“Wanna veg out and watch some crap TV?” 

When you nod, Eddie flicks on a reruns channel, then reaches to drape an arm around you, stopping with a wince partway- “On second thought. The back I inherited directly from my uncle is requiring a horizontal position after all that sweeping. You mind laying down with me, sweetheart?”

He’s laying it on a little thick, and Eddie almost feels bad until he remembers this is for a higher cause; you comply so sweetly and willingly, pulling him down flush between the couch and your back. 

“Should’ve let me do the sweeping.” Your voice is relaxed, barely a mumble as Eddie molds himself to the warmth and shape of you, one arm settling over your waist, the other across your upper chest.

“Shh. You’re incoherent. Rambling nonsense. S’posed to be vegging out.” Eddie gives you a little shake, then a growl that precedes a bite to the softest part of your neck. 

This makes your spine arch, ass pushing back into the cradle of his hips as a bright peal of giggles leaves you breathless. Eddie takes the opportunity to slide his thigh between yours, passing it off as necessary to getting the perfect angle for kissing your neck.

He didn’t bite near hard enough to bruise but kisses over the teeth marks regardless. At your chest, a cool track of his ringed hand trails innocently down- until his whole palm is suddenly over your breast.

On low, crackly volume, there’s an audience laugh track as Eddie tweaks at your nipple, peaked through the layers of shirt and bra. A whiny, high moan from your throat when he pairs this with a solid rocking forward of his thigh against your cunt. 

Eddie’s pretty sure he can feel the beginnings of your dampness seeping through to his own skin; the thought makes him groan, blood rushing in his ears and south quick enough to dizzy.

“Eddie.” This time, your voice is wavering and small, and Eddie’s glad for the automatic mute feature as the TV changes to commercial. “Please don’t tease.”

“Honey, I promise I’m not.” Eddie’s close to hysterics (laughing or crying, unclear at this juncture), settling his nose where your neck and shoulder meet, huffing a laugh. “It’s okay. Just relax. Let me help you feel good.”

The last threads of your resolve are splintering, thighs stuttering and tightening around each thrust of his hips. At the small of your back, Eddie cock throbs. 

“Wanted you-ah-… all day.” Your confession split by a gasp when Eddie finally gets past the restriction of your bra cup, thumbing hard into doughy flesh.

“All you had to do was ask, sweet thing.” The skin under Eddie’s nose is intoxicating- he could swear you smell different on ovulation days: this wild, heady lull of siren song calling out to him. “You’re just how I like you, though. Stubborn. Won’t ask unless I’m giving it. You can take, now.”

Permission grants you new purpose, following the urge of Eddie’s hand at your hip with pleasure-soaked intent. A few more fluid rolls of hips and Eddie feels the telltale signs of your panting pitching upwards, legs and stomach tensing- “That’s it. Good, baby, let go. Yes.”

This last encouragement pushes you over the edge, coming hard with a long, low noise from your dropped jaw, thighs clamping and spasming with the force of it.

Eddie makes sure to wring out the last of your aftershocks on his shaking thigh before he comes, too, cock pulsing into the constrictive fabric of zippered jeans but blessedly rutting against the firm contours of your ass. “Fuck me.”

“I’ll say.” Sounding similarly winded, you clutch at Eddie’s arms, keeping them wrapped around your form as breath returns. “How the hell did you know I needed that?”

By smell is probably a bit too hard to explain (or defend). Eddie shrugs, pulling you ever closer. “Call it lover’s intuition.”