#just a peek in their life as new roommates

[terriblysims]

Where we make our home~

☑ Have at least 3 tattoos ☑ Rarely wear makeup and dress as casually as possible ☑ Start on an empty lot in Willow Creek ☑ Be self-employed with the Freelance SIMply Crafted career ☑ Build and live in a suburban style micro home ☐ Foster a healthy garden on your lot ☐ Find love while ‘homeless’ and marry ☐ Name all children after nature ☐ Master the fabrication / handiness / wellness skills ☐ Complete the master maker aspiration

[leeechin]

(ꗃ) cat and mouse [nerd sunghoon] ! ⋆ ›  ◟⊹

after sleeping with the cute quiet dork that sat nearby you and your friend during lunch, you find yourself playing silly games with him, due to a miscommunication. [wc: 2.5k]

CONTENT: college au! sunghoon and jay are big losers in this lol. nerd!sunghoon x fem!reader, 2010s era :p | mdni.

WARNINGS: lots of teasing, handjob, sunghoon is pretty switchy but more dom leaning, unprotected sex (big no), bigdick!hoon, fingering, slight degradation, ass slapping, etc.

lee’s note: this is a continuation of my most popular nerd!hoon fic here ! this can be read as a stand-alone!! gaeul from ive is yn’s bff NOT sunghoons dog LOL.

“you should’ve known it was a one time thing..” jay murmurs to sunghoon, who wasn’t focusing on their round of star craft, instead sulking on the couch with his legs crossed. “someone like her wouldn’t do a second time with someone like us— you to be exact.” adding on.

you had the best time of your life, choosing to hook up with the cute quiet dork unexpectedly. it was planned by you, it was just never expected of you for the plan to be executed perfectly. and you weren’t going to let another opportunity slip beneath you.

“she agreed to let me take her on a date though! and it’s only been two days.. maybe she’s busy.” he exasperates in response, opening his phone to see no new messages from you in his inbox.

“orrr maybe she wants you to text her first instead of her..” jay suggests, throwing the control at sunghoon to play the game again, sunghoon shrugs it off, putting his attention back to the next round of star craft.

you were indeed busy.. rambling to gaeul and your other roommates about the other night with sunghoon. raving about how he was ‘so so good.’ completely oblivious that you not texting him, or expecting him to text you.. is causing a minor miscommunication.

now, being back on campus, you were hoping to catch sunghoon at the campus cafeteria, and throw him teasing glances. strutting confidently in your cute denim shorts and low cut tee, you sit yourself across gaeul at the usual table. and looking up, you notice the pause in sunghoon’s movements, pathetically dropping his fork and pretending it was an accident, coughing so fake.

you let out a small giggle, kicking your feet back and forth underneath the table, forgetting that your friend was across you. “helloooooo? earth to y/n?” gaeul waves her hand in your face, causing you to finally blink.

“god, he’s such a loser.” gaeul points out, turning around to see sunghoon, try to not so obviously peek at you from his canned drink, attempting to hide his eyes from staring at you. “a hot loser though.” you correct, going back into a daydream like trance, thinking about the past weekend you spent with him.

flipping your phone open, you shoot a message to sunghoon, you hear the clatter of the metal can he was drinking from, seeing how fast he scrambled to flip open his own phone. was this really the same guy who railed you into the next dimension a couple days ago?

[you]

you know, i could see you staring at me

[hoonie (^з^)-♡]

What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.

[you]

sure sureeeeeeee

you were surely so quick to open your phone

and dropping your little drink that made a loud sound from hitting the floor, okay though! (=´∀｀)

[hoonie (^з^)-♡]

Why haven’t you reached out to me since that night?

Did I do something wrong?

—

sunghoon didn’t beat around the bush. you wanted to apologize over and over, feeling guilt flood your body for not taking the initiative, especially for someone like sunghoon, who mainly kept to himself with one friend.

but something ignited a plan of mischief in your mind, wanting to tease the fuck out of sunghoon until he ruined you completely. the urge to tests the waters until you were in the hands of his mercy. looking up from your phone, you throw sunghoon a small grin, causing him to nearly drop his phone over a pile of rice on his lunch tray.

“just go get him in a room for christ’s sake, stop eye-fucking him infront of me.” gaeul scoffs, gathering all her things together to head to her next lecture, waiting for you to follow pursuit. “go without me gaeul.”, she raises an eyebrow at you, but then sees how your gaze is stuck on sunghoon who seems to be minding his own business now, eating the food on his lunch tray.

“mind if i take a seat here?” you ask sunghoon, making him startle at the sudden sound of your voice, eyes attempting to only focus on your face, rather than the sight of your juicy tits tight against your shirt.

“yeah.” he mutters, returning to finish the last of food on his tray. “why so silent..?” you fake pout, seating yourself across from him, leaning forward slightly.

“whyareyouavoidingme.” sunghoon quickly speaks, you’re unable to catch what he was saying. “hoonie, what?” you giggle, hand reaching under the table to grab at his knee, feeling how it tensed up under your touch.

“not in the cafeteria, please.” sunghoon flinches, trying not to draw attention by avoiding to have a big reaction, feeling your hand squeeze at his sensitive knee, bumping his knee up to remove your hand. you giggle and use both of your hands to straighten up your shirt.

“answer my question, hoon.” you repeat coyly, leaning forward across the table, sunghoon looks around at the people sitting at the surrounding tables, worried they’re catching onto what’s happening between you two.

“can we— talk somewhere else— please.” he stutters, looking down to hide his now flustered face. “hmmmm.. okay.” you contemplate, looking around the direction sunghoon was. “no one’s looking at us, hoon.” adding on with a playful smile painted across your face.

sunghoon opens his mouth to say something, but you interrupted his sentence that hasn’t even started; “oops! didn’t pay attention to the time! i’ll drop by your place at some time soon!”, gathering all of your things as his eyes blink rapidly.. so dorky, and so hot at the same time.

“but what if i happen to be busy..” sunghoon manages to slip out, seeing how you got up and was ready to leave him behind at his lunch table. “i’m sure you won’t be.”

sunghoon was convinced, no he was aware you were playing games with him now. every time you self-invited yourself to his table, right when he’s about to ask you if you want to study together, you leave abruptly. and it doesn’t help with you sending him suggestive messages on his phone while he’s around jay to stir things up.

“what game are you trying to play with me?” sunghoon blurts out, looking down at his hands on his lap, fidgeting nervously as you sat down on the lunch table seat across from him for the fourth day in a row.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you fake acting confused, playing with a strand of your hair in between your fingers. sunghoon sighs in defeat, only knowing you are continuing this silly little game of yours.

“i think you do.” he frowns in response, moving on to eating the bun he had in his hand. “how long are you going to keep going on with this?” sunghoon adds on to his sentence. you sigh in defeat, sitting yourself properly.

“don’t you enjoy taking to me hoon?” you frowned, doe eyes blinking at sunghoon’s as you await an answer.

“i do. but before we can even talk properly, you leave. how long are you going to keep this game of yours up?” sunghoon finishes the last of his bun before crossing his arms together, seeming to be less nervous and shy now.

“i guess i’m done..” you sheepishly replied, trying to read sunghoon’s unreadable expression. “what’s on your mind, hoon?” you ask, noticing the silence that filled between you two for a good 10 seconds.

“you know.. we’re supposed to be studying..” sunghoon comments, seeing how you crawled on his mattress seductively to seat yourself over his lap. “but what’s the fun in only studying hoon?”

“you said you needed help on— fuck.” sunghoon groans, sentence cutting off, throwing his head back with his glasses tilting lopsided, feeling you shift on his lap, back against the headboard of his bed, as your hands clumsily fumble at the zipper of his jeans to pull out his painfully hard cock that has been straining against the tight constraints of his boxers.

“is this what you wanted from me this whole time.?” you speak softly, gathering saliva to slip past your lips, onto the center of your palm, enveloping his base around your hand, gasping when you forgot how big he was when you looked down at your hand jerking his base slowly. you found the sight infront of you to be so pleasing.

seeing sunghoon’s tilted glasses, moving your free hand to put it back in place. “stop playing with me, y/n.” his voice strains, his large hands finding purchase on both sides of your waist. he sits himself up, looking at your irresistible glossy lips that slightly parted as you concentrated on working your hand at his base.

leaning forward to place his lips over yours, you whine against him from the sudden action, hand slipping off his thick cock as your hands run under his shirt, nails trickling at sunghoon’s soft skin causing him to hiss at the contact. you pull away from the kiss to pull his shirt off and over his head, along with him removing yours, throwing the articles of clothing everywhere in his neatly organized room. your lips return to tangling messily along with his, the smacking sounds filling the silence.

your lips trail down his exposed collarbone, leaving soft marks as you attempt to go down lower, feeling him stop you, a soft whine leaving your lips when you feel one of sunghoon’s hand grasp a good handful of your ass.

“this game of yours is ending right now.” sunghoon speaks lowly, gently removing the remaining material of your undergarments, taking in the sight of how your naked body looked so good, even with the dim lighting in his room— the lamp being the only source of light.

“hurry up then hoon..! oh.” you moan at the feeling of his fingers rubbing against your sensitive clit, moving to circle at your dripping entrance, teasing you by only pushing in his fingertips a few times, before plunging two of his thick digits past it. the warmth of your walls clamping down tightly from simply just his fingers.

“you can still barely even take it.” sunghoon chuckles, his free hand brushing his strands of hair back. moving his other hand, flicking his wrist at an angle that had you seeing all sorts of colors, relishing in the feeling of his fingers reaching the spots yours could never reach.

“please hoonie..” you whine, nails digging deep into his shoulders, holding onto him tightly to avoid falling off of his lap with the sensation of his fingers dragging in and out of you rapidly, crumbling apart when you feel the familiar sensation of your orgasm approaching.

despite the advantage you might’ve had in your position of being seated over him, you were powerless, taking in what he gave you, not seeming to mind loosing dominance you once had over him a little bit ago.

“you’re close aren’t you?” sunghoon raises an eyebrow, seeing how you grinded your hips slightly, to take in his digits even further, your eyes looking down to see how well you sucked his fingers in. “mm— yes please hoon i— what the fuck—!” you protest, feeling him pull his fingers out, one of his hands holding you still in place.

you squirm around on his lap, trying to escape his grasp, gasping loudly when you feel his hand smack your ass, the soft flesh jiggling from the touch. “can’t you be more patient for me now?” sunghoon smirks, flipping you onto your back, leaning over the side to reach his drawer for a condom when you grab at his wrist to stop him.

“want you so bad, hoon.” you strain out, face flushed with desire and neediness. you hear sunghoon let out a deep chuckle in response, stroking himself at the sight of your body splayed on his mattress, legs spread.

“you make me wait several days, but you can’t even wait a few minutes.” he scoffs jokingly, pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist, aligning his tip to your entrance, wasting no more time to slide in easily- due to your wetness that trickled down your thighs.

you hear sunghoon let out a long groan at how your walls once again clamped around him tightly, glasses falling off his face and somewhere beside him on the bed, slowly bottoming out and relishing the feeling of your warm velvety walls. “fuckkk. you feel even better without a condom.” he groans, finding a pace with his thrusts, his cock dragging so perfectly and so deep into you to where you couldn’t even form proper words.

“s’ so good-!” you manage to slip out, palms pressed flat to hold tightly onto sunghoon’s back as you try to keep up with his fast, merciless pace, cock deliciously hitting repeatedly in that one spot in you that sent you spiraling.

“not talking now? had me playing a game like i was a cat and you were the fucking mouse.” sunghoon grunts, eyes meeting yours as you let out a small whimper at his words, clenching around his thick cock, causing him to let out a groan at the feeling, closing his eyes to take in the feeling of not having a condom wrapped around him. deciding to bring your other leg to wrap around his waist, moving to push the back of your thighs to practically fold you in half. you feel him press against the soft bulge of your stomach from how deep he is inside.

your high-pitched moans and mewls of pleasure fill sunghoon’s room when you take what he’s giving you, eyes rolling back as you feel yourself reaching your orgasm, arms wrapping sunghoon’s neck as he leans forward to kiss you, his lips muffling your loud moans.

“inside please.” you whisper, moving your legs to wrap around sunghoon’s waist again, watching how his thick eyebrows furrow in concentration when he twitches inside you, hips moving sloppily as he’s not too far from you— eventually stilling his movements to fill you up with his creamy white essence, seeing how you shut your eyes tightly as your chest heaves heavily, letting yourself go, whining when you feel him slip out.

“you’re nasty.” you giggle, seeing sunghoon return with a warm towel to help swipe up the mess on you. “you indulged into it, you’re not any different from me, y/n.” he laughs in response, throwing the towel into his hamper, laying himself down beside you as he pulls his boxers back on. you’re wearing one of his t-shirts, blanket pulled over as you’re ready to doze off.

“so when are you going to take me out on that date you suggested the last time i was here?” you smile, eyes half lidded as you melt into the embrace of his bigger frame.

“whenever you stop playing those silly little games.”

the both of you releasing a fit of laughter, feeling yourself slowly drift off to sleep, thinking about the next time you’re gonna have this with sunghoon.

hai i wrote this for @00kittenz and @pshbites ily both sm, i’m so glad we are friends bcuz of this silly little app. 💓💓

tag: @aewon

[sheepispink]

happy new year everyone, this is probably crap but just take it im tired

being a homebody with roommate!simonriley is a strange experience. He had told the landlord he hadnt minded having a roommate occupy the spare room but with so long and no sign of interest, he had ultimately forgotten altogether. Until one morning, the landlord had texted him and soon he was opening the door to you, standing with your suitcases and an embarrassed smile. He helped you bring it in, although he wasn't the most friendly and the both of you were dead silent the entire time.

“Dont really care what you do here. Just dont bring friends over and leave a mess, dont come home in the early ‘ours and leave a mess and dont go out and leave a mess.” You blink at him, and then point to yourself, almost unbelieving of his words. When have you ever gone out? “Yes you, who else?” He has to resist rolling his eyes, and a little smile peeks out, an awkward one but it breaks the ice enough to make him raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

.You quickly revert to your quiet demeanour, giving a meek salute in response.

“Okay, okay, yes sir, i’ll follow all the rules.”

And you did, almost too well. There was never a mess left in the kitchen, infact he hardly saw you most days he was home. Given that your shoes were never near the door too, he just automatically figured you were out partying all evening or hanging out with friends. It almost made him roll his eyes, that you could have so much energy but also just waste your life away like that. He knew you went to work on the weekdays, saw you slip out the front door quietly, and then return to your room in the evening.

It’s one of those weeks in British winter which is just freezing for no apparent reason, even if it’s barely December yet. Simon’s skin is practically about to turn blue, having just come back from a long deployment yesterday. The usual clothes he uses for underlayers had been ripped and torn throughout the mission, aswell as his usual balaclava. It was one of the toughest yet, leaving him littered in bruises and a wave of exhaustion that refuses to leave. He sighs, rubbing his temples as he lays on the couch, head resting against the armrest whilst he flicks through the tv channels.

Though his activities are interrupted when he hears a small click, causing his eyes to immediately flick over to the direction— he was sure you were out. After all, there wasn't a single sound in there all day. Has someone broken in? Did you have a dog he hadn't been told about? He’s never heard a bark, maybe it’s something quieter like a cat, sneakier like a snake even. Then the handle turns and he tenses, eyes trained and his grip tightening on the remote control. Who the hell was behind that door?

What he hadn’t expected, was to see you shivering with a frown, your hands wrapped into the pockets of the thick hoodie as you tried to warm them. You intended to grab a hot water bottle from the kitchen, since you had left it there drying the night prior. Though, naturally your focus moves to the tv, forcing you to see the full view of his bare face and eyes widened. “You’re home?!” You squeak, trying to turn back incase you witnessed something you shouldnt have, only to hit your head smack against your bedroom door. He quickly sits up himself, face tinting with colour as he practically snatches his ripped mask from his pocket and forces it on. “I should say the same to you.”

“ Its the weekend, I never go out on the weekends.” He looks at you with clear disbelief, a hand tugging his shirt down where it had ridden up on his stomach. “Your shoes ‘ave never been by that door though.“ You blink, opening the door to your bedroom to show him the shoe rack and he falls silent. “ You never come out of your room. How do you even survive?!” He watches your cheeks burn pink but he’s had enough, wanting to understand how you had evaded his senses for so long. Before you can protest he’s pushing past you, looking around your room.

“We literally have a stove.”

“This is more convenient!”

“You’re just lazy!”

He waves the self heating pan in your face and you frown, embarrassed at being caught out for being so lazy that you even make your own lunch and dinner in this room. Instead, his gaze moves over your current set up which is adorned with everything soft and comfy. He’s starting to understand after he sees the wide screen pc, the stash of snacks in your cupboard and the cans lined up. “Yknow, most keep paperwork in their cupboards.” He grunts and your hands plant on his arms, attempting to push him out of your room before you instantly recoil. “You’re freezing!”

That’s the first he’s chuckled for a while, and presses his knuckles against your cheek making you recoil like a hissy cat. “Oh come on i’m not that cold—“

“Ice on my face! Literally ice!”

His mask creases, but you’re right , there’s even goosebumps along his skin now. But damn, that throw blanket on your bed looks comfy..

“If i make ya some good food, will you give me that blanket?”

”Thi’ is so good-“ You say through a full mouth, coddled beneath a blanket as you scoff down a bowl of chicken salad. He doesnt know when he picked it up, but he has a few memories of Kyle giving him and Johnny a bowl when they didnt know what to do with the few ingredients in the fridge. “That’s ‘cause im a good cook.” You mumble something in response to his grumble, but it’s difficult by how stuffed your cheeks are, almost looking like a squirrel. It makes him want to laugh but he’s growing more tired by the minute, eyes threatening to fall. Whilst you were stuffing your face, he had gotten exactly what he was promised, currently enthralled by your heated duvet. You even have one on your mattress to warm that too, and a plushie that you can microwave— he feels like he’s in a heater heaven.

“Hey— I said a blanket, not my whole bed.” Finished with your meal, he supposed you’d be back to lazing around now, either gaming, watching the latest episode of your series or starting a new book to finish within the hour. “Hey— move-” You try to push him but he only grunts, already halfway to dream land. He owes you breakfast tomorrow.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine logan seeing you again, pt. 2

logan x reader

summary: In his universe, Logan and you were in love. Then you died. Now he's in a different timeline and you are very much alive.

warning: some deadpool x wolverine spoilers. this takes place after the movie. under 1k words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The street was typically crowded for a Wednesday afternoon, but the hot dog in your hand lathered away all the annoyance from being shoulder checked every so often. The first bite awakened your entire body, and you felt amorous joy. It was a mild weather day and Wade had given you the task of entertaining his new roommate. Logan stood in front of you, seemingly annoyed at the way you were ignoring him and making love to the wiener in your mouth.

“You eat like a pig.”

“Oink…oink…” you murmured, finishing the dog with another anxious bite. He looked disgusted and you amused, as he checked his watch. “Stop acting like you have somewhere to be, you have nothing going on in your life at the moment.”

“Aren’t you a bed of roses.”

Ignoring him, you wiped your hands off and tossed away the napkins. “So, I personally think this is a major waste of time since I gather, you’d rather just hit up a local bar and gorge yourself into oblivion. But I told Laura I’d at least try to get you to do something fun.”

Logan, being the ray of sunshine he was, grunted but then asked how the young girl was doing. “You didn’t have to take her in.”

The two of you starting, well, just walking. There was no real plan for the day, you just picked up Logan from Wade’s apartment and told the Wolverine he was going on a little walk. Like the good little doggy he was – of course, he didn’t appreciate that last bit, but he didn’t object to the idea.

“I honestly don’t mind. It’s nice having a roommate, she’s quiet though. She’s teaching me Spanish, so that’s nice. Are you hungry?”

“You just had a hot dog.”

“It’s called an appetizer, Logan…I know a really good burger place nearby.”

He said nothing and the two of you fell into a silent pace, Logan feeling beside himself. Even a bit ashamed for stealing glances your way. You looked just like her, you – it was confusing and ultimately, he wasn’t sure what to feel. At the party, he thought he felt something and when he saw you afterwards – helping Laura settling into your apartment, it had killed him. Seeing you happy, like you always wanted. In a small apartment, instead of a huge mansion with no privacy. The X-Men were your family but there had been plenty of times when you had confessed to Logan for some peace and quiet. It wasn’t like you wanted to abandon the school, the people you loved – you just wanted a place for Logan and you. As he watched that day, moving things around for Laura, he felt peace. At least, in this universe, you got what you wanted.

“Logan?”

He apologized. “Burger sounds good.”

The man looked conflicted, and you wanted to make a funny comment, observation but something in you decided not to. Instead, you stole little peeks, he wasn’t as old as the Logan from this world, but he had some miles on him. He wasn’t exactly hard to look at either with that whole hard ass guise to him. Wade had highly under played Logan’s attractiveness and what a petty bitch he was. This thought made you chuckle loud enough to gain a look from your companion. He asked what was so funny, you said nothing.

“So, what are your plans now that you’re anchored here?”

“That would be the million-dollar question.”

“I could hook you up with an old team of mine?”

“Absolutely not.”

You began to rattle off different occupations Logan could take up – line cook, bounty hunter, librarian. The latter piqued your interest a little too much with the mere thought of Logan wearing studious glasses and a gray knit sweater making you warm. “I would definitely read more.”

He laughed, maybe even smiled. “Not a fat chance.”

“A girl could try,” you shrugged, nodding ahead. The diner was in view and Logan followed you across the street. He opened the door, and you thanked him, slightly embarrassed that you were feeling some type of way. Horny? Yikes. Maybe. It had been a while and you hardly knew Logan but that might have been the thrill. Feeling silly, you lead the man to a booth in the corner and you settled across from him. The waitress came over and slipped menus to each of you. Logan asked for a coffee while he gazed down at the limited selection of food, and you asked for a Diet Coke. You watched Logan curiously, trying to guess what he’d ordered. He didn’t seem like the type to be experimental with his meals. So, a burger combo would be the best guess and you were completely right. When the waitress came back to take your orders, Logan ordered a burger combo while you asked for a BLT. He thanked the woman and relaxed against the vinyl booth, looking out the window as people walked by.

“Is it different?”

He answered with a quick no, and you apologized for repeatedly asking that. “It’s just crazy to think about other universes, other versions of ourselves out there. Would it be weird to ask if I looked the same?”

Logan stared at you and felt his heart sink. You were beautiful, you were but he could see the differences between the woman he loved and the woman in front of him. Your eyes were filled with energy, hair a lighter tone in color, skin darker – it was like he was seeing an inverted version of the you he knew. Here, in this world, you seemed more carefree, and he was happy about it. Back home, all you ever did was worry. He never really saw you truly happy and he wondered if it was because he had loved you. In this fuck of a place, Logan and you had never interacted. Your paths never crossed and maybe that’s why you were so content. He managed an uncomfortable smile and shrugged. “Pretty much the same.”

Your face fell as the waitress arrived with the drinks. Logan took his and sipped the coffee, hoping you’d move on. It had taken much effort to even look at you now, his heart racing so fast he wanted nothing more to do than leave. Like a coward, run away. It would be so much easier than facing whatever look was in your eyes – what answer did you want? What did you want to hear? Logan felt like somehow you knew the truth and that this was all just a ploy to extract it from him but then you smiled, and a nerve was hit. A good one that had Logan glancing out the window.

“I was hoping I’d have green hair or something,” you laughed lightly. “Oh, well. Green isn’t really my color.  Listen, thanks for being such a good sport in all this. For that, how about I take you out for some beers tomorrow night? Unless you got something going on? Which we both know you don’t.”

No.

If he wanted to be a good person with his second chance he was given, that’s what he should have said. No drinks, no weird lunches, no stolen glances. He should have never agreed to even see you again, if he really wanted to change then he would have said no. In fact, he should slowly ease himself out of this friendship you were trying to establish, because what good could come of it? Everyone he loves always dies, his version of you did. Right in his arms, the last thing you felt was his warm embrace. That thought alone should have sent him packing but your eyes on him – understanding, the way your fingers played with the straw from your drink in anticipation and the friendly smile on your face, it was too much for Logan. How could he resist?

Was this a form of self-torture?

If so, he was in, but he was going to need a buffer.

“A few beers sound great, but only one condition.”

Surprised, you agreed. “Anything.”

Logan sighed. Deeply. “As much as this pains me, you gotta invite numb nuts.”

.............

leave comment for a tag. (I tagged those from the OG post who seemed interested in seeing a second part)

@pushingdaisies1 @johnnysilverhandeeznuts @murderhousemuse

@carolinameinicke @abysswhiskey11 @weallhaveadestiny

@cosmiccandydreamer @airwolf92 @fidgetingbee

@bananarepublic58 @ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs @an-tkc @wotcherboo

@theslvttysimp @cauqhtz @ittoscumdump @sad0ni0n

@lostinspace33 @corpse-ihte71 @somekale08

@britthiddlesbatch @doradora8008 @aheadfullofsteverogers

@erikaafernns @justkennadi @tinalbion @tomukit

[inknopewetrust]

𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐲

Summary: Tyler’s always wanted to show you something he loved—it just took some bad weather for it to appear. [Tyler Owens x Reader] [WC:2.6k}

Warnings: language, college-aged Tyler & reader, fluff, romance, this is a comedy? Idk folks. No smut though—sry :/. Just good ole fashion kissin’ in the rain. And what if I said this story was my real life experience, then what?

Quick Links: Masterlist [including other twisters fics]

“Where are we going?”

The tires of the truck were clunking along the rocky path to… well, nowhere. Thick trees surrounded you; the sun barely peeking through them as it began to decline in the sky and yet the truck kept tumbling along.

Shit. You thought for a brief moment as he didn’t reply. He might murder me.

“I told you,” his voice rang through your mind like a pinball machine. “It’s a surprise.”

“What if I said I didn’t like surprises?”

Tyler glanced at you as the truck hit a rough patch. Your hand was white-knuckling the grab handle above the window and your face was torn up in concern for the locale.

“I’d say, ‘honey’,” he put a hand on your clothed thigh. “I ain’t gonna murder you.”

“Well now that makes me think you are gonna murder me.”

Tyler laughed, squeezing your thigh joyously.

He was a maniac—Tyler Owens.

But he was also many things you did not know of yet. The first time you laid eyes on him was around eight months back when he walked in two minutes before the chemistry lecture. Every seat in the room was nearly filled except for the lone seat on the inside of the lecture hall beside you.

And when he sat there, you couldn’t focus on one goddamn thing.

It was silly—being twenty-one and having a crush on a guy in your science class. You weren’t in high school anymore but you sure as hell felt like it. When he asked for an eraser, you were too eager to provide it. One day he forgot his computer so he asked for some paper in the notebook you elected to use.

Each day you’d arrive a minute earlier than before with a childish hope that he would too and you’d be able to talk to him, learn about him. You weren’t in the same lab section so it was growing increasingly difficult to manifest a semblance of potential when it only occurred twice a week for an hour and fifteen minutes.

Fuck college schedules, is what you had concluded when he wouldn’t show up twenty minutes early to class.

Yet fate had a funny way of dictating what happens when.

Three months into class, your roommate suggested getting out and heading to a frat party one Saturday night and it shouldn’t have been a surprise to see him there. And out of some kindness, he went out of his way to say hi to his “lecture buddy” who’d helped him in times of need.

Every class that followed grew something in you. He came early to lecture to talk to you, joking about anything but the subject and going on and on about what he wanted to do when he graduated. His smile was contagious, as with his laugh. Bellowing and loud; Tyler Owens was everyone’s friend and everyone’s crush and you happened to be lucky enough to sit beside him until it was all over.

The semester ended and your interactions with Tyler ceased.

And it made you feel a little crazy for feeling down and out about your luck. Your roommates and friends tried everything to get you on the market: going to parties, joining strange clubs, playing trivia at the bar on Wednesday nights but nothing.

It was all nothing until something caught your eye.

You saw a flier for a meteorology seminar with a guest speaker from your local news. The premise wasn’t overly exciting for any one student at the university but for you, it was interesting enough to attend on a vacant Tuesday evening.

Like fate had promised before, it dealt you a winning hand.

Tyler spotted you as you walked through the door and waved you down. In your dumps, you forgot to think his attendance was a possibility even after he mentioned time and time again that he’d love to be on television, that he’d die to help people protect themselves.

So when he got ready to leave after the lecture, you weren’t going to die without facing a fear. You had to protect yourself from another six weeks of imaginary mourning and asked for his number.

And six weeks later you concluded he was going to murder you in some remote location in the plains of Arkansas.

“I’m not gonna murder you, alright?” He chuckled. His eyes were illuminated with a mischievous glow you couldn’t escape. You saw his eyes in dreams and knew you’d never want to imagine a day without them.

Fuck, you thought. It was way too early to be thinking of that.

“Then tell me!” You looked over at him with reason. “This road is so shitty I can’t imagine what’s on the other end!”

“Paradise, baby!” He smiled. “When I was a kid, my pops used to take me and my brother down here to go fishing. It’s this picnic area that I think,” he glanced at you with raised eyebrows, “no one else knows about. So don’t go runnin’ and tellin all them about this, ok?”

Oh.

It was personal.

“I won’t,” you promised.

“When my grandpa died I was,” he thought back on it as if it were long ago. “Nine and I came here with my mom and just sat. We stared out at the water and watched the ducks and the birds fly over until the sun went down. This was his spot and he passed it on to me.”

You suddenly felt an urge of regret pass over you as the comments from before soured.

“Tyler,” you said solemnly. “I didn’t—“

He brushed the nonverbal apology away.

“It’s alright,” he reassured. “There are plenty of reasons why you could have felt that way.”

It was heartwarming that Tyler didn’t dismiss your fears. There were so many guys, barely men, who would have called you crazy for a lot less. Tyler never made you feel that way.

Being with him was like chasing a high of the greatest strengths. Everything he did revolved around his ability to be free and willing to do what scared him the most and it was enchanting.

You could feel the sparks hit your heart.

“I’ve never taken anyone there before.”

“No?”

“You’d be the first.”

The two of you let that sit in the air as the road became more suitable for driving. The smoothness was welcome as his admission settled between you.

The first. He thought you special enough to be the first person to witness this place. You could have been ten feet tall at that moment. Never had anyone ever made you feel so special.

As the roads improved, the clearings of trees and bushes began to open up to a wider area with a paved lot on a taller hill.

It was beautiful.

Only the fairy tales could conjure a place like that. Billowing pines and lush greens on the bank of a river cut off by a large damn. The rushing water filled your ears amidst the squawking of wildlife uninterrupted by human activity.

It was so peaceful, charming.

The sun’s orange rays twinkled down onto the water and made it sparkle. Flowers in bloom, the buzzing of cicadas at the arrival of a hot and early spring warmed your cheeks as Tyler put the truck into park.

He watched you take in your surroundings of pure nature. A slight awe in your eyes, shallow breath at the sights. You were a vision in his favorite place.

“I thought we could have dinner here,” he tipped his head to the back seat where he had plastic Walmart bags full of food, unprepared and prepared for whatever fit your fancy. “And then, if we’re lucky, maybe it will rain.”

“Rain?” You turned to meet his eyes and they crinkled at the sides. Endearing, charming—just like this place.

Tyler hummed. “You mean to say you’ve never heard of rain?”

His words quickly became a joke. You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. It was solid under your touch and you were reminded that he was real. It wasn’t a fairytale and you were very much living it.

“Ha-ha,” you replied dryly.

“I’ll keep that one as a surprise.”

“I checked the weather before we left and,” you pointed to the sky. “No rain.”

Tyler unbuckled himself and opened his door.

“They just don’t see what I do.”

“And what’s that?” You asked him but he shut the door, moving to the backseat to take out the bags of items he procured, and then as ever the gentleman, opened your own door.

“Magic.”

You laughed but he was being serious. His eyes still gleamed with the same sly nature he was born with, but his touch was comfort. Hands carefully guiding you to a spot that he had meticulously planned out—even if this appeared to be a spur of the moment outing for you.

Everything was planned. Tyler wasn’t going to take just anyone to this spot. He’d be a fool to lie and say he hadn’t spoken to his mother about his plans just to hear her perspective on whether it was creepy, brilliant, or just plain sad.

However, he carried on to face his fears of bringing someone he liked to a place near-sacred to him. Tyler wasn’t a fool of love, he just hadn’t found anyone worth sharing these bits of him. And he also didn’t expect the feeling to come about so quickly.

Those fears he let simmer never truly came about in the reality he lived.

You were smitten. Absolutely fallen into this little spot in this tiny corner of the world with a man who was opening up before you. Tyler made the puzzle pieces of a perfect date fit together wonderfully.

The food, the drinks, the atmosphere—he hit an apex of the paragon of “partner,” “boyfriend,” or “lover.”

And you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as the sun began to truly fade.

You took a sip of your drink, coming down from a high of laughter at a story Tyler shared at his brother’s detriment. The sky was a shimmering shade of reds and deepening blues now; orange melting away for the sake of night.

“No rain,” you pointed out. He shrugged his shoulders, moving from a lounging position on the worn blanket to a lying one. His arms perched behind his head.

Tyler stared at the stars beginning to form.

He could see the shapes of the clouds, the movement quickening and the air cooling. It was as special as this place, his talent for finding the storms. Whether they brew inside or out, he found them and chased them with a passion—unrelenting and fierce. He sought the thrill.

“The night’s not over yet,” he said coolly. “Don’t count me out.”

“I’m not counting you out,” you defended, moving scraps of discarded food away from you to lay next to him. You shuffled to get comfortable in his vicinity.

“How often do you stargaze?” Tyler asked.

“Not often. I don’t think there’s an opportunity for it when I have nowhere to go.”

He agreed with a grunt. “I think you’re lookin’ in the wrong spots, honey.”

Oh those godforsaken nicknames. The country in him seeped out at their mention.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he removed his arms from the back of his head and pointed to the now appearing stars the darker it became. “See here?”

You moved closer. “Not really.”

“There,” he pointed again. “Right there in the middle of those two clouds.”

There were two stories at play here: one of him proving that rain was coming in the guise of stars and the second of you trying to be aloof in order for him to touch you.

You’d spent the last hour with him. Watching him talk, eat, smile, and laugh at anything that brought him joy. Those lips begged you to kiss them. They beckoned you like a ship lost at sea and in the clouds, the water would find it.

You shook your head innocently.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at, Ty.”

“Here,” he took your hand in his and pointed to the stars. “Look.”

In the sky above, a faint outline of the Little Dipper appeared in your vision. You smiled lightly. His hand with his finger pointing was still outstretched and connected to yours which made it grow wider.

You were giddy.

Tyler moved his finger to fully cup your hand but as you kept looking at the sky, he looked at you. You could feel his eyes on you, the turn of his face and the low breaths he released through his nose.

“What else do you see?” He asked lowly.

You breathed in deeply. It was just too beautiful to explain one thing. The clouds grew thicker, dense in the night as light was swallowed up by the moon. The air was now cool enough to send a chill down your spine and wish the blanket was more than a thin excuse for a sheet.

“It’s getting cloudy,” you observed. “There are more stars and it’s cooling off.”

“Anything else?”

“It’s just beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.”

“I’m can—“

You stopped mid-sentence at the sensation that hit your cheek.

It wasn’t air or breath or a bug or grass but a wetness that could have come from only one place: the sky. You waited for another to fall and it did not a second later. A third and fourth drop followed until it was a hundred drops or more into a steady downpour.

You scoffed in disbelief, sitting up to feel the rain in your palms and Tyler sat up too. His laugh was one of joy that followed yours.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed as the water began to drench the area around you and your clothes.

“I told you!” Tyler shouted over the rain falling harder and harder. You blinked at him.

“How’d you know!?”

“Just did!”

“And what’s so magical about getting rained on?” You asked him.

He didn’t have a solid plan if it rained. All he knew is that he had seen this in the movies. A downpour catches two people in the rain and it creates one thing: magic. It’s innocent and daring, carefree and transparent. Rain makes lovers fall in love. It binds them to one spot, one moment in time where all the elements line up to craft one singular point that would forever be cemented in their memory.

“I don’t know,” he confessed.

Tyler positioned one hand to lean on behind your back while the other cupped your face. The rain dropped onto his hand but you were warm against the coldness of his hands. Your eyes glistened at him as the movies described.

“I don’t know what’s so magical about it.”

“Me either.”

“Can you kiss me?” You asked him. It wasn’t a question, per se. He was going to kiss you.

Tyler nodded his head, leaning in to meet your lips as the rain fell harder around you both. The sound of the rain disappeared when his lips met yours. Only the beat of your heart, the rush of your blood flooded your ears and body. You lifted a hand to grip his arm as he tilted his head, using his leverage to position you the way he wanted and deepened the kiss.

You could feel the tendrils of a story weaving in your bones. The place, the time, the kiss… it was a fairytale.

You dropped everything and kissed him in the pouring rain in a spot now forever implanted in your history, you felt the sparks fly higher.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and your reactions motivate us greatly!

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (36/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Lets get drunk part two - with new opportunities.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: hah. you thought you'd seen the last of me. feedback is appreciated!

"Okay," says Charles and sits back down next to you on the sun bed. He sets the basket down between you, with the necks of various bottles sticking out of it. "Are you more of a vodka girl or a tequila girl?" He pulls out two bottles and holds them out to you. 

You examine the bottles before raising your hands. "Neither, to be honest." You carefully pull the basket towards you and take a look inside. Your hands turn the containers slowly so you can read the labels better, and when a bottle catches your eye, you grin at your roommate. "Here."

Charles takes the bottle you hold out to him. "Peach?" He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "Quite summery."

You shrug your shoulders. "You promised to take me with you next summer so I could go swimming in the sea. I just want to prepare myself properly."

A smile spreads across his face. "Touché. All right." He reaches into the basket and fishes out two small shot glasses. He places them at the head of the sun bed to fill them with the peach liqueur. "You'll love it here during the summer. The sun is blazing, the sea is cold and the days are long." He carefully slides a glass over to you so that the contents don't spill over the rim. "It's like paradise."

You nod gratefully at him. "So now you definitely don't have a choice."

He looks at you, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," you sit up straight and pick up the shot glass. "You talked me up about the boat and summer at sea so much that you definitely have to bring me here next year." You grin at him. "So you have no choice but to take me with you."

"Oh no." He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance and reaches for his glass as well. "So I guess I can't get rid of you at all, huh?"

You shake your head excessively. "No fucking way. You definitely won't get me off this boat in the summer. And the deal about us sharing the apartment is on anyway." You tilt your head. "Even if you really tried, you wouldn't get rid of me that easily." You hold out your arm so he can clink glasses with you. 

He looks you in the eye. There's a sparkle in his green ones as he knocks his glass against yours. "Thank God."

The peach liqueur tastes indescribably good and the longer you lie on the sun bed looking at the glowing Monaco in front of you, the more you drink of it. The stars above you twinkle and although it's getting colder, you're nice and warm. Whether it's the alcohol or Charles' laughter, you don't know. 

"You've met Arthur yourself," he says as you have to press your face into the pillow to stop your laughter echoing across the ocean. "I swear, his April Fool's jokes are the worst! And you never see them coming!"

You giggle into your pillow. "Tell me you didn't fall for it." Hesitantly, you peek over the hem of the pillow to see Charles' blushing face. You quickly push it back into your face and laugh. "Oh, Charles!"

Your roommate grabs his own pillow and hits yours with it. "Don't laugh at me! You'll be affected soon enough! And then I'm not going to be the one to rescue you."

As you slowly calm down and wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes, you put the pillow back behind your head and look at him. "Trust me - by then Arthur will like me enough that we'll form an alliance. Then he certainly won't play any tricks on me."

Charles looks at you, dumbfounded. "Excuse me? I thought you and I were friends! You're supposed to stand on my side!" With a shake of his head, he reaches for the peach liqueur and refills your glasses.

You grin at him. "I don't form alliances with people who fall for stupid pranks like that."

He pushes your glass over to you. "All traitors." He shakes his head again. "I thought at least I had you on my side."

You raise your glass to your lips. "I'm always on your side, Charles. You're my best friend," you assure him, although the sentence leaves a nasty taste in your mouth. You wash it down with the liqueur. "But I'm not going to let Arthur take the piss just to make you feel better."

"You're a great best friend," he says and pours the liqueur into his mouth. "Just you wait and see. I won't save you if my brother does decide to play an April Fool's joke on you."

"You wouldn't dare," you reply with a grin. "Your mom would give you hell if she knew you were abandoning me." You grab the liqueur and fill your glasses again. "After all, she likes me better than you."

Charles watches you fill his glass to the brim. He presses his tongue into your cheek before licking his teeth. "I wish you were wrong." He holds out his arm for you to clink glasses with him. "Here's to my family liking you better than me."

You try to suppress your grin. "Don't worry, Charlie. I like you all the more for it," the alcohol speaks out of you and when you hear what you're saying, the blood rushes to your face. You quickly clink your glass against his and drink the liqueur so you don't have to look at the Monegasque in front of you. 

As he puts his empty glass down, he grins at you. "'Charlie'? You're really going to give me a nickname?"

You roll your eyes and run your fingers through your hair so he doesn't notice your nervousness. "Don't worry," you try to play it down. Thank goodness he can't hear your rapid heartbeat. "I only use it when it's just us."

When you look at Charles again, he smiles at you softly. "I like the name," he assures you. "And if it stays your little secret and mine, I like it even more. It belongs only to you. Only you can call me that."

You smile at him before leaning back into your pillow and looking up at the stars. The night is clear, there isn't a single cloud in the night sky and the sea breeze on your face cools your alcohol-warmed skin pleasantly. You feel Charles lie down as well. 

"Do you want to spend the night at my mother's tomorrow?" he asks quietly. When you turn your head in his direction, he's already looking at you. "I usually spend the night there. Maman always gets delicious wine and when we all get together, the evening gets pretty long." When you raise an eyebrow with a smile, he continues. "And there are plenty of rooms in the house. You're welcome to choose one of them. I'd hate to go back home for Christmas," he adds. "Especially because my mom would be alone and -"

"Charlie," you interrupt him. "We can spend the night at your mom's. There's nothing wrong with that." You wink at him. "Besides, I want to have a drink with Arthur and then I definitely can't go home."

He exhales with relief. "Very good." He turns his head forward and looks up at the stars too. "It's going to be a nice evening. My maman cooks delicious food and then we always play something. It's usually Uno or charades. You've heard how Monopoly turns out for us."

You have to giggle. "I would really like to play Monopoly with you," you admit quietly. "And I would never steal money from the bank either."

Charles exhales. "I'll take your word for that. But Arthur is more cunning than you think. He would steal money from the bank and make it look like it was you. You definitely don't want to play Monopoly with him."

You shrug your shoulders. "Then again, maybe I'm smarter than you give me credit for." You look up at the night sky again. "Maybe I can outsmart Arthur and win."

Your roommate laughs out loud. "Then you'd have to get past me first. And I'm certainly not going to let you win just like that. Not after you said you'd team up with my brother and not stand by me when he pulls his April Fool's pranks."

Offended, you reach behind your head for your pillow to smash it into his face, but Charles is quicker and snatches the pillow out of your hand before you can hit him with it. "You suck, Charlie."

"You love me. Just admit it," he grins and hesitantly gives you your pillow back, risking being exposed to your attack again. 

But you merely wrap your arms around the pillow and hug it to your chest. Even through the feathers inside, you can feel how fast your heart is beating. 

"Of course," you try to play down the swirling feelings inside you and hope that he doesn't notice the trembling in your voice. Or the truth in your words. "I'll still try to beat you at Monopoly. Or Uno. Or charades." Offended, you lie back on your pillow and cross your arms in front of your chest. 

Charles sits up again and refills your shot glasses. He pushes it towards you like a peace offering. "Maybe I'll let you win," he smiles as you look at him. "After all, Christmas is the festival of love and I -" he continues, but is interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. 

You look at him in confusion. You'd love to know how he would have finished the sentence. "You have reception out here?" you ask him as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. 

The Monegasque shakes his head and shows you his phone screen. "I had set an alarm clock."

You raise an eyebrow. "For what?" 

He points to the time with his finger. It's midnight and therefore officially Christmas. He looks at you with a grin. "I have a Christmas present for you." 

As he gets up from the sun bed and staggers onto the wood of the deck, you look at him indignantly. "No way," you reply, annoyed. "If I can't give you a present, then you can't give me one either." 

"Calm down, mon ami," he says, swaying slightly from left to right as he circles you. The alcohol seems to have hit him hard too. "I'll be right back." Without another word, he disappears into the interior of the yacht, leaving you on the sun bed. 

Annoyed, you sit up. 

The fact that you're not allowed to give him a present has almost ruined your friendship. Just the memory of his words that he wants nothing from you but your friendship sends a cold shiver down your spine. You would love to tell him that you want more from him than friendship, that you desire him, that you want him for yourself - that you love him - but no amount of money in the world would make you reveal your feelings to him. If he actually knew how you felt about him, you would certainly lose the only good thing in your life. And you wouldn't risk that under any circumstances. 

You run your fingers nervously through your hair. What could he possibly give you? You've never mentioned anything to him that he could possibly buy. And there's no way he'd change his mind in a day and confess his love for you. You'd have to be incredibly naive to believe that. 

It's not his fault that he doesn't feel the same way about you as you do about him. It's not his fault that his words have torn your heart apart. And it's not his fault that he can't take your feelings into consideration if you don't tell him about them. 

You take a deep breath and smile at him as he rejoins you. In his hand, he holds a brown envelope, which he hands to you as he drops back onto the sun bed next to you. When you look at him uncertainly, he nods at you. "Merry Christmas, mon ami."

Hesitantly, you open the envelope and pull out several pages of paper, held together at the top left corner by a paper clip. You immediately recognize your name on the first page, with Charles written underneath. The rest is written in French, which is why you look at your roommate even more confused than before. "What's this?"

Irritated, he takes the pages from your hand and lets his eyes wander over the letters for a moment before he hits his forehead a little too hard with the palm of his hand. "Shit. I thought they'd printed it out in English," he says, handing the papers back to you. I'm really sorry."

You raise an eyebrow. "And what's this?" Your eyes wander over the paper, trying to identify any of the words, until you unsuccessfully put the papers down in front of you. 

"This, mon ami, is an employment contract," he explains with a smile and leans back a little. 

"An employment contract?"

" Mh-hmm." He licks his lips once. "Remember when Joris mentioned that he had a new job?"

You nod. Of course you remember. 

After you'd been to the place where Charles had been with his father in the past, you both went to Joris' and had lunch there. Joris had told you that he was starting a new job and when you had been there to burn Annika's things, he had talked about it too. 

"Well," Charles says hesitantly. "Joris was my personal photographer. And now that he can no longer work for me and accompany me around the world because of his new job, I thought - well - maybe you'd like to be my new photographer. You - um - you don't have a job at the moment and - well - I thought it would be cool if you and I worked together," he babbles in one breath, blood rushing to his cheeks. "You'd travel with me to the Formula 1 races and take photos there, but of course you'd also spend a lot of time with me in private. Which would be a good fit, as you and I live together anyway and the fans loved the photo you took of me at the lookout point. And the one you just took of me turned out great too."

Your breath is stuck in your lungs. 

Charles wants you to work for him? That you photograph him so he can post the pictures on Instagram? That you fly around the world with him? 

You'd love to throw your arms around his neck with joy, but you just grin at him. "Are you serious?" When he nods, you squeal with excitement. "You're really serious, Charlie? You really want me to work for you?"

"Of course," he admits openly and smiles at you. "You and I are best friends. Why would I want to work with someone else when I have the perfect and best photographer literally sitting right in front of me? I'd be pretty stupid to ask anyone else."

Carefully and with shaky hands, you put the documents back in the envelope. "I - thank you. I don't even know what to say."

"Just say yes." He leans a little to the side so that he can push your full shot glass over to you. "You'll travel around the world with me, get paid incredibly well and spend a lot of time with me. I'll cover the travel expenses, of course. All you have to do is take good photos of me."

You look at him in amazement. "I'm getting paid and you're still covering the travel costs?"

Your flatmate laughs out loud. "Of course! What do you think? Whether I give you more salary so you can pay for your flights and everything yourself, or whether I pay you everything, it's the same in the end."

Heat shoots into your face. "Then at least let me give you money for the rent. Now that I have a job again."

He shakes his head vehemently. "Absolutely not. The money is yours, you can do anything you want with it."

"Except pay the rent," you reply and get his pillow thrown in your face. 

"Exactly. Everything except pay the rent," he assures you. "So, what do you say, mon ami? Do you fancy exploring the world with me?"

You nod with a grin. "Definitely." You raise your shot glass. "Thank you, Charlie. That's the best Christmas present I've ever been given."

A blush creeps into his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Really?"

You nod with a smile. "Definitely. I can't thank you enough for that." 

The thought of being permanently close to Charles scares you as much as it makes you happy. As his best friend, you're looking forward to spending every minute with him, traveling the world and discovering the most beautiful places. And getting paid for it too. 

As the woman who loves him, you're a little worried about what will happen if he meets someone he falls in love with while you're traveling. You don't want to imagine the pain if he gets into a committed relationship with someone and all you can do is stand on the sidelines and watch him be happy. There's no question that he deserves to be happy - but the thought that the person he's falling in love with isn't you makes you feel sick. 

You try to suppress the thought and smile bravely at him. "It's absolutely the best present. Thank you so much, Charlie. No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

There is a loving sparkle in his eyes. "I'd do anything for you." Before he picks up his glass as well, he pulls out his cell phone again and taps on it. "Can I post it like this?" he asks you and holds his phone out to you. His screen shows the picture you just took, with a simple caption. 

You shrug your shoulders. "I think so. But do you think it's a good idea to post something when you've had so much alcohol?" you ask him with a grin. 

"Oh nonsense," he grins at you and taps his phone one last time before activating the keypad lock and putting it back in his pocket. "I only have good ideas when I'm drunk." He reaches for his shot glass and holds it out to you so you can clink glasses. "I'm glad you said yes. I can hardly wait." 

"Me neither," you reply with a smile. 

He takes a deep breath before his eyes search yours. He would love to put the glasses aside, pull you onto his lap and kiss you until you can't breathe, until the sun rises, until the world ends. But that's just the alcohol whispering to him, he thinks. 

He knocks his glass against yours. "Here's to us."

-

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and others tagged: yourusername charles_leclerc: ma mère approuve

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Lay the Table With the Fancy Shit

Prompt Day 13: Family Dinner | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Future Fic, Established Steddie, Open Secret Relationship, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?, It's The Harringtons, And Uncle Wayne

Eddie peeks through the curtains, and so far, the driveway is still empty. 

"Anyone?!" Steve hollers from the kitchen.

"Not yet!" 

This is the first Christmas that they're having both sides at their house, and it's a little nerve-wracking. They didn't think the Harringtons would accept the invitation. Historically, they haven't. They've always been in Spain. London. Hawaii. 

Anywhere, except where their perfect only child and his weird shadow have been.

And even if Steve's never shown it, Eddie knows that's been disappointing, though not unexpected. 

But, Steve kept extending the offer.

And this year, they said they'd come. 

Eddie doesn't trust it. He's more scared they'll no-show than he is that they'll show up and be assholes. Assholes? Assholes, Eddie can handle. But deliberately getting Steve's hopes up just to hurt him? Unforgivable. 

Steve's drawn from his rich kid upbringing, and set the table fancier than it has ever been in their house.

Eddie hears a door slam. He peeks out: Wayne. 

"It's just Wayne," Eddie yells, and that sounds wrong. Wayne has never been just anything. His love and presence is constant. Him showing up is not news, it's just any other week, holiday or not. 

Eddie hears a second car pull in, and it's them. 

"They're here!" Eddie screams, and Steve appears in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Really?" he asks, grinning. 

"Really," Eddie confirms.

Steve is smoothing down his sweater, as if it might be rumpled, but it's definitely not. He's perfectly put together, as always.

Eddie's slightly concerned about Wayne being out there alone with them. Wayne's not gonna take any shit, and definitely won't forgive as easily as Steve has always been willing to, that's for damn sure. If they so much as look at either of them wrong, Eddie's sure Wayne will be willing to start an all out war. 

Steve goes to the door and opens it before anyone has the chance to even ring the bell.

It's not like Eddie hasn't met them. He has. In short, very controlled bursts. They call Eddie Steve's roommate, and honestly, it could be worse. If they want to pretend that's all he is to Steve, Eddie can live with that, if Steve can.

They have a support system, more than most are lucky enough to have, and if the Harringtons can't get on board, then so be it. Steve's mother kisses both of Steve's cheeks, and his father shakes his hand, and so far, so good. 

They've made it inside without any bloodshed. 

Steve takes his mother's coat and introduces them to Wayne, who gives the bare minimum of a greeting, and Eddie feels frozen to the spot.

Why this year? Why now? 

He's suspicious, and scared. Terrified, honestly. 

Are they going to try and put a wedge between them? Do they have the perfect, marriageable girl that they're going to try to sell Steve on? Finally tired of this unacceptable detour that is a life with Eddie "The Murderer" Munson?

Anything is possible, and Eddie hates that he's expecting the worst.

It might be fine.

He hopes it'll be fine.

Eddie doesn't know what to do with himself. Roommate Eddie, reporting for duty.

The first chance he gets, after the forks go down, he excuses himself and flees.

Eddie is sitting on the bed in their bedroom. There's a familiar knock and Wayne steps in, closing the door behind him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, and he is. Just uncomfortable. "What's going on out there?"

Wayne laughs, "Polite conversation."

Eddie grins towards the floor, and Wayne sits next to him. 

"It'll be fine, kid."

It will. Eddie knows that. They'll leave, and life will go on.

"Does Steve seem happy?" Eddie asks, because that's all that matters. 

"Yeah," Wayne answers. "How 'bout you, kid?"

"I'm good," Eddie says.

"You sure?"

He's pretty sure. He just wants Steve to be happy, and wants him to have a good relationship with his parents. Even if that means he's the roommate in the most unconvincing lie ever told.

Wayne has left him alone, and Eddie is still sitting there, when he feels eyes on him. He looks over, and Mrs. Harrington is standing there looking at him through the cracked door. 

Eddie freezes. 

She comes inside and shuts the door with a heavy click.

Eddie swallows.

"Eddie," she says, and he nods, as if he's confirming that he is, in fact, Eddie. 

He's suddenly hyper-aware of their bedroom. Specifically, their co-mingled shit all over. They didn't clean up, because that felt like it'd be an unspoken bad omen for them not showing up. Either way, Eddie doesn't have a fake bedroom down the hall. It's just this. His stuff on one nightstand, Steve's on the other.

She sits next to him.

Eddie sits up straighter, ready to take whatever she's about to dish out. He'll take it, if that means Steve won't have to.

"They're watching the game," she says.

"Good," Eddie replies with a nod.

"We know, you know?" she asks bluntly, and Eddie wants to bolt. He has to force himself to stay. Eddie assumed, though. Steve's not dumb, and they aren't either.

"Yeah," he says.

"We're waiting for him to tell us," she says, and Eddie is flabbergasted. 

"Huh?" he says.

She laughs, and it makes him feel a fraction more at ease.

"He can tell us," she states, plain as day. There's no beating around the bush, "It took a bit, but we're ready now. Whenever he is."

Eddie hopes that's true. Fuck, does he ever.

"Thank you," he says, and feels kind of dumb, but he is thankful. Big time.

"He was a sad child," she comments, seemingly changing the subject. 

And Eddie stares at her. Steve? Sad?

"Lonely. He learned to fake contentment," she clarifies, turning to look at Eddie, smiling ever so slightly, "But I don't think he's faking it anymore."

Eddie bows his head, smiling to himself.

He made Steve Harrington happy. How the fuck did that happen?

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🍽️

Notes: Title from Tolerate It by Taylor Swift.

[puckinghischier]

Locksmith - Nico Hischier

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader has been friends with the hughes brothers for years, and when she finally arrives in Jersey to move in with her best friends, she finds herself locked out and stuck in the hallway, with only the neighbor to save her

notes: this is my first time ever writing ANYTHING, so this could be terrible. BUT it’s really only a peek at where i want the story to go so possible series if anyone actually wants to read it??? 🫣

part 2, part 3, part 4

[2.4k]

~

You know, three suitcases didn’t seem like enough when you were packing, but trying to roll three suitcases down the long, carpeted hallway is proving to be one of the most difficult tasks you’ve ever had to do in your life.

Seriously, the building didn’t look this long from the outside.

After a trek that felt like miles, you reach the door you’ve been scanning for, only to find it locked tight. “I swear to god I’m literally going to kill them,” you said to yourself, out loud. “They tell the doorman to let me in, have me bring all this luggage up by myself, only to leave the fucking door locked. Why did I expect anything less?”

Grabbing your phone, you dial Jack’s number, silently begging him to pick up. You know he’s at a charity thing with Luke, but surely he’s allowed to answer his phone, right? Wrong. His phone goes straight to voicemail, twice. Classic Jack. You know there’s not any point to calling Luke, he always leaves his phone during charity events in order to connect with the kids better. Usually you find that endearing and admirable, but right now you wish that he was maybe just a bit more selfish.

“Well, I guess I live in the hallway now. Hope the carpet is plush enough to sleep on.” You’ve always had a habit of talking out loud to yourself when you’re nervous or, in this case, annoyed. It helps you work through your thoughts and not dwell on anything for too long. Purges your emotions a bit.

“Trust me, it’s not. Speaking from experience here, you’d be much better off sleeping on the couches in the lobby” a voice startles you.

“Oh my god,” you jumped. You turned around to see the door to the apartment behind you wide open, a dark haired man leaning against the doorway, smile on his face.

“I- how long have you been standing there?” you asked, hand on your chest trying to calm your racing heart.

“Long enough to know you’re thinking about sleeping on the carpet, not long enough to know why,” he states, humor lacing his tone.

“Well, if you must know, my roommates left the door locked, no spare key, and won’t answer their phones. So, until they get home, the hallway is my new bedroom,” you surveyed the stranger.

He was tall, much taller than you were. He wore a simple white t-shirt, black sweatpants, and a backwards hat on his head, hiding what looked like hair that was in need of a trim based on how much it was spilling out the sides of the hat. But what made you stop in your tracks were his eyes. You don’t think you had ever truly understood the phrase ‘warm eyes’ until now. They were the most spectacular shade of brown you had ever seen in your life. And they were filled with amusement. Amusement directed towards you, since he had just heard you talking to yourself like a madwoman.

“Ahh, you must be Y/N! I thought Jack said you weren’t coming until tomorrow?” He asked, understanding washing over his face.

“I caught an earlier flight and was going to surprise them. However, Jack texted me earlier this morning and told me he and Luke had to go to a charity skate, so I had to tell them I was coming early. He told me he’d leave the door unlocked so I could go ahead and settle in, but, as you can see, they did not,” you explained, only slightly shocked Jack told his neighbor about you. That boy sure liked to talk, yapping anyone’s ear off who would listen.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a spare key you can use,” the stranger tells you, walking out of your view for a brief moment.

“Should I be concerned that the neighbor has a spare key? Does he just go around handing out spares left and right?” you ask, starting to feel a bit awkward standing among all of your luggage.

“No, not exactly,” the man laughs. “He gave me a spare after one too many nights of me hauling him home from the bar only to realize he didn’t have his key with him.”

He walks out of his apartment, a small golden key in hand. The stranger, whose name you forgot to ask, unlocks the door and stands back with a warm smile on his face.

“There, you just got upgraded to a real bedroom,” he recalls, standing in the now open doorway.

“I would say thank you, but I’m still a little concerned that a strange man just had to let me into my own apartment,” you (semi) joke, attempting to gather your suitcases.

“I’m Nico,” he explains, taking the suitcase you were struggling to heave into the apartment.

“Oh, you’re the captain!” you exclaim, recalling all the times Jack and Luke had talked about their beloved leader to you. “Jack never mentioned you lived next door!”

“That’s me. I only just moved in about a week ago. Was looking for a place closer to the rink and Jack told me about his previous neighbors moving out, so I decided to move in. Nice having them just across the hall. They’re like the little brothers I never had,” Nico pronounces brothers like ‘brudders’. You nearly forgot Jack had mentioned he was from Switzerland, too distracted to have picked up on his accent before now.

“Yeah, they seem to have that effect on people, huh?” you understood the sentiment behind Nico’s words all too well.

You’ve known Jack, Luke, and Quinn since you were all kids. Your family owned the lake house next to theirs when you were growing up. You spent every summer with them up until Quinn got drafted to the Canucks a few years back. Then Jack to the Devils, then Luke following Jack. Your families grew incredibly close to one another over the years, though. Trips to visit the other outside of the summer months became a regular occurrence. Trips to watch their hockey games, traveling to watch Luke play college hockey, and attending their drafts. These three were the brothers you never had but always wanted. They treated you like their own sister from the very start.

“They especially have the annoying aspect of younger brothers perfected,” Nico replied, both of you fully inside your new apartment now.

“God, don’t I know it,” you laughed.

Looking up, you finally took in your new home. Geez, this place is nice. It shouldn’t surprise you, really, with how much Jack and Luke both make, but the apartment is like, really nice. Definitely out of your price range, by likely a couple thousand dollars. You suddenly feel bad that Jack refused to let you pay any share of the rent. You had fought him on it, several times. He insisted that they had the spare bedroom anyways, and they had no trouble making rent as is. You demanded that you contribute in some way, so you were now tasked with grocery shopping and cooking for two professional hockey players. Honestly, after seeing the meal plans the team nutritionist gave them, it might be a fair trade.

It's only as you look over towards the kitchen at the thought of having to go grocery shopping soon, you realize Nico is still there. He’s just standing there, watching you take in your surroundings, lost in your own thoughts.

“Well, thanks for not letting me waste away in the hallway. And helping me with my luggage. I think someone from TSA filled my suitcases with rocks or something. I swear it didn’t seem like I had that much stuff when I left home,” you explain, not knowing what else to say to the stranger.

“No problem, seriously. I feel like I’m over here more than I’m at my own apartment, anyways. Jack is always calling me to come over or insisting that we have to watch game film together after practice. It’s a little concerning how obsessed he is with hockey. I mean, I’m the captain of the team and I feel like I spend less time thinking about work than he does,” Nico chuckles, not seeming to want to end the conversation just yet.

“God, don’t even get me started. I’ve had to listen to him ramble on and on about hockey for years. I’m just glad someone else finally understands my pain.”

“You know, the only other subject he seems to talk about as much as hockey is you. And his family, but according to him the two are one in the same. Every time I’ve seen him this week, which is nearly every day, he’s updated me on the countdown to when you were set to arrive. He’s seriously excited to have you here. They both are. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” Nico reveals.

You and Jack had always been the closest out of the three brothers. With your age falling directly in-between Quinn and Jack, you and Jack had the most common interests as a kid. Quinn was always trying to be the grown one, not concerning himself with whatever you and Jack were interested in while growing up. As teens, Quinn was always training or going off by himself to do who knows what. Luke was still slightly too young to go off with you and Jack alone, so it was usually just the two of you embarking on your own little adventures on those summer days. Once Jack got his boating license neither of your parents would let Luke go out on the water without them. So, more often than not, you and Jack would take the boat to God knows where in the middle of the lake and spend the whole day there, not returning until after dark. Those days were your favorite to think back on. The conversations between you and Jack never ceased to flow. From hockey, to your boy troubles back home, to whatever girl Jack wanted to impress that summer, to what your lives would look like one day, to always vowing to be in each other’s lives, even if he became a big shot hockey player that lived on the other side of the world.

“Yeah, well, he always has been the sentimental type, no matter how hard he tries to deny it,” you chuckle, a fond smile finding its way onto your face.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N. If you ever find yourself faced with sleeping in the hallway again, you know where to find me,” Nico drops his eye into a wink, walking over to the door and opening it once again.

“Thank goodness someone around here understands the severity of the situation at hand. Me and my back thank you,” you wave your arms around for dramatic effect, walking to take hold of the open door as he steps into the hallway and back into his own doorway.

“Welcome to Jersey. We’re glad to have you here,” Nico turns to face you after he’s back in his own apartment, a genuine smile settled on his face.

“Thanks, Nico. It’s good to be here,” you respond, matching his smile, thinking of how well it suits him.

———————————————————————————

“Y/n!!!! Where are you!?” you hear, currently elbow deep in suitcase number two, trying your hardest to unpack everything. You really don’t know how you managed to fit so much clothing in three suitcases. Or how you ended up with so many clothes to begin with. You stand up and start making your way to the door of your bedroom, hand on the doorknob as it flies open, revealing a very excited looking Jack and Luke. You suddenly feel your body flying forward, face hitting a clothed shoulder.

“Ow! Jack, that was my nose!” you tried to say, but everything was muffled because of how tight your body was being held in place. Seriously, he acts like he hadn’t seen you in years. You were literally here a few months ago to visit and arrange plans to move in. Leave it to Jack to always bring the dramatics.

“Just a few more seconds, I missed you,” he mumbles, squeezing even tighter, if that was even possible.

“Jack, no fair! Quit hogging her, I missed her too!”

“Luke, please save me. I might suffocate soon if he doesn’t let go,” you beg the younger brother.

“Oh my god, will you two quit being dramatic? Can’t a man be excited his best friend is finally moving in after months of waiting?” Jack whines as he releases his hold on you.

“No one said you couldn’t be excited, Rowdy, but suffocating me two minutes into living together might not be the best way to show your excitement,” you say, smoothing out your sweatshirt and making your way towards the open arms of the younger, yet much larger, brother.

“Oh Moose, how have you been? Have you been getting enough sleep?” You question, always worried about his wellbeing, especially these past few weeks.

“Yeah, m’alright. A little tired, but we have some home games lined up soon. I’ll catch up on sleep then,” he responds, squeezing you a little tighter at the end of his sentence.

Luke’s rookie year has been a rollercoaster not only for him, but for you as well. You worry about the youngest Hughes, having such a soft spot for the boy. You know he’s talented, and you know he’ll do well, but you can see the exhaustion on his face and in his actions. You know he carries the weight of the foul comments he receives about his gameplay, and you try your hardest to take some of it off of his shoulders.

“Alright, but now that I’m here just know I’ll be holding you to that,” a stern look on your face.

Turning back around towards Jack, you find him surveying your room, looking over the mess you created in the few hours it took for them to return home.

“So, are you going to spend the rest of the day unpacking, or can we go have some fun and celebrate the fact that you live in New Jersey now?” Jack spoke, looking at the pictures you decided to display, most of them pictures of you and the brothers throughout the years.

“I mean, I was hoping to get as much done today as I can, but I’m guessing you’ve already made plans, huh?”

“You would be correct. We’re leaving at 8, be ready,” is all Jack says, before dragging Luke out of your room.

[sweetlittlefawntears]

the grave ♱

au : i’m really upset cuz there’s like no good ghostface ellie fics … just ones where she kills ur entire family which is um. definitely interesting so i took it upon myself to write one hehehe i hope u all enjoy this one !

cw : fem reader x ghostface ellie, blood, murder, ellie is kinda a perv, panty stealing, breaking and entering, strap on sex, ellie is a bit degrading, slapping, (not hard), murder obviously but don’t worry i didn’t describe it in detail at all its just hinted at, intentional lowercase, that’s it i think uhhh …

wc : 2.5k ♡

౨ৎ ever since you moved into a new apartment in new york, you had been super scared to live all on your own. it was your first time living by yourself, just a freshly out of the house person making it through life and college in this huge city. and when there started being murders documented near your apartment building, you started to search for a roommate. you set up an ad on the bulletin in the front lobby of your apartment, and soon you were living with another girl who also attended the school you went to. your best friend dina had told you about her, and when you two met you instantly clicked. her name was ellie. ellie williams.

౨ৎ she was a very attractive 20 year old, with auburn hair that reached her shoulders, and eyes deep and green like sea glass. she had many tattoos, and was a deep and interesting person. but she had a secret. she was behind every murder that had happened in the past months. she loved seeing you scared over the thought that someone might be able to break into your now shared apartment and kill you or ellie, and she loved getting to be the one to comfort you.

౨ৎ every time you tried to talk to ellie out of going out at night, she brushed you off, insisting she’d be fine. truth was, she wasn’t really going to bars or the library or anything like the sort of what she told you. instead, she was plotting to kill her next victim. she didn’t just kill randomly. she killed people who were horrible. people who were sex offenders, people who hurt you…people who got too close to you…and more. she tried to not kill every night, as it made you too worried to be away from her for too long.

౨ৎ you kept up with all the murders, wanting to figure out who did them. however, you knew you really hadn’t the slightest chance, you didn’t even know where to begin. ellie thought it was so cute how obsessed you were with the person committing the murders. “you know, i used to think ghostface was hot until there was an actual fucking person playing ghostface where WE live.” you tell ellie one night. “oh my god, you watched the movies? you seriously think ghostface is hot?” ellie says as she looks up from the joint she’s smoking, pale smoke swirling and hazing in the air. “i said i used to think he was hot.”

౨ৎ ellie fooled herself that if you knew she was ghostface, you’d accept her for who she was. she just wanted to make people pay for the things they did to society. but she knew that was almost certainly not the case, no matter how bad she wanted it to be.

౨ৎ one night, before going out, ellie was snooping around your room. you were in the shower, softly humming to yourself, which ellie thought was so adorable that she was smiling to herself as she looked around your bed. she eyed a shelf filled with cubbies, all full of your folded clothes. she pulled the cubbies out until she found the one that had your underwear in it. she pulled out a pair of soft white cotton panties, with little cherries on them. she held them up to her face before shoving them in her back pocket. she continued to look around your room before picking up a small polaroid of you and dina. she kissed the polaroid of you before putting that in her pocket as well.

౨ৎ she walked over to your shared bathroom and knocked on the door. “yeah?” you half-shout, shampooing your hair as you peek around the curtain. “i’m heading out…” ellie says. “okay just, please be careful ellie!” you shout back before going back to your shower. ellie grabs her bag before walking down all 15 flights of stairs to get down to the lobby. it’s around 10:00 at night, and she’s plotted this murder for a while now. you had told her about a man who had assaulted you at a halloween party a year ago, and she wanted revenge on him.

౨ৎ she walked down the street, before slipping into an alley. she continued to walk backstreets, until she found the building where the man lived. she slipped into the apartment building, trying not to look suspicious. it was pretty late, and there was no one hanging around in the halls as everyone was on high alert of the murders. ellie slips into the man’s apartment and…well…you can guess what happens next.

౨ৎ the next morning, you wake up to ellie back home, already making you breakfast. you step out of your room, wearing cute small tight pink shorts with a lacy pink trimmed tank top. your frilly and cute socks on your feet tread lightly across the floor as you approach ellie. she loved the way you dressed. you looked like a cute innocent bunny. exactly the opposite of ellie.

౨ৎ ellie hands you a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon and you thank her before you two sit on the couch and turn on the news. you two watch the news, which had become a regular habit of yours to turn on. low and behold, the murder had obviously been reported and was being covered right now. you listen intently, hearing about how the man was found with over twenty stab wounds. “oh my god, i know him! he was a dick, though.” you say to ellie as you finish your breakfast. you take your and ellie’s plates to the sink before ellie speaks up. “hey, could you get me my phone from my room?” ellie asks, not thinking anything of this.

౨ৎ “of course.” you say as you walk over to ellie’s room, hair swinging as ellie stares at you whilst you walk into her room. you immediately see ellie’s bag on her bed. you walk over to her bed, looking for her phone as you see a knife sticking out of the pack. when you go to investigate further, you see that the knife is covered in dried blood. you open ellie’s bag to find a ghost face mask and more dried blood all over it. your mind starts racing. your roommate…? but, there’s no way. it couldn’t be her. it just couldn’t. you pick up the knife into your hand, turning it over and running your soft finger over the sharp blade. you don’t know how to feel. on one hand, you love ellie. but on the other…

౨ৎ ellie walks in. “hey, what’s taking you so…” she looks down at the bloody knife in your hands, and her eyes dash back up to your wide eyes. she’s speechless. “ellie…are you…” she quickly walks over to you. “i’m…this isn’t how i wanted you to find out, i…” she trails off, before grabbing your hand and gently but firmly pulling the knife out of your fingers. “ellie…i just…can you explain to me why?” ellie sighs and sits down on her bed before hiding her face in her hands. “i just…there’s a lot of bad people in this world bun, y’know? and so many of them deserve to be in jail but they aren’t, they…they have to be punished somehow.” she tried to explain through some slight sobs. “ellie…i..” you stutter, not sure how to respond. “i still love you, ellie.” you finally say after what felt like hours of silence. she looks up at you, eyes glassy. “are you serious?” she says, holding your forearm as your arm rests on her shoulder. “yes. yes, i am. i just, need some time to process this. but…i can look past it. i meant it when i said ghostface was hot.” you laugh, trying to relieve some of the tension.

౨ৎ the next night, ellie comes into your room. you’re sitting at in a little reading nook the was built into your apartment, with a view of the city from a window covered by a sheer white curtain. you’re sitting in the nook, curled up with a book. with she leans against the doorframe, looking at you. she smiles lightly to herself. “hey, ellie.” you say, looking up at her. though you knew she was behind the murders, you had come to terms with it. after all, she was doing it for a good cause…right?

౨ৎ she came over to you and put her hands on your shoulder. “hey bun.” she runs her hands over your arm, which makes you shiver. you shut your book before standing up to look at her. “not going out tonight?” you say as you look at her. she cups the side of your face. you look at her before deciding, fuck it. you kiss her, sloppily, which she loves. she takes your bottom lip into her teeth before biting softly on it. she pulls away, looking deep into your eyes. “are you sure you want this?” she says, still looking at you intently. “yes, ellie, just fucking kiss me…” you say as she pulls you in immediately.

౨ৎ her hands trail up behind you, rubbing your back with one hand while the other goes to cradle the back of your neck, still locking lips in a passionate kiss. she backs you onto the nook, sitting softly beside you, tracing her hand along your thigh, still locked in to the embrace. you would never admit that this was your deepest desire, kissing the person behind the ghostface mask. you were so obsessed with the case for a reason…you wanted to feel the person behind everything kiss you, feel their hands on you, making you theirs…

౨ৎ you felt ellie’s hands trace along your waist, as she slips them under your shirt to feel your soft skin on hers. “ellie..i want you so fucking bad.” you whisper into her ear as she bites and sucks on the skin around your neck. “shh…bun, i know…i know…” she says softly as she starts to take off your shirt. “this okay, pup?” she says as she reaches and tugs at the ends of your shirt. “yes.” you say softly as she swiftly pulls the shirt over your head before tossing it on the floor. she looks down at your bare skin. “no bra…?” she says, slightly surprised. “i’m at home, why would i need to wear one?” you say, rolling your eyes. ellie starts to kiss your neck as she rubs one of your sensitive and soft nipples between her fingers. you whimper softly as she pulls at the tender bud. she helps you move so you sit with your back to her chest, as she trails her hand down into your shorts. she slips them off before rubbing your cunt through your lacy cotton panties. “fuck, bun, i’ve barely touched you and you’re so fucking wet…bend over for me.” you immediately do as you’re told, bending yourself over onto the little nook, ass up in the air like a dog. you bury your face into a soft pink fluffy pillow shaped like a heart.

౨ৎ “goddamn, i wish you could see yourself right now, so fucking pretty, all ready for me.” she trails her hands down your sides before smacking your ass, leaving a burning pinkish hand print on the side of you. she palms and gropes at your thigh and ass, wanting to feel up every part of of you. “shit, baby…” she says as she unzips her pants, pulling out her strap. “shit- g’na fuck this pussy so good-” she says as she grabs a knife from her jeans, cutting off your panties before throwing them on top of her jeans. those were definitely now hers. she drags the blade across your thigh, not enough to cut, but enough to make you whimper. “i wanna fucking mark you up so bad.” she says as she drags the blade a bit deeper, letting little beads of blood pill on the knife. “ellie-!” you scream out as she drops the knife and rubs the blood around on your thigh. “fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn beautiful.” she brings her bloody hand up to her mouth before tasting your blood on her fingertips.

౨ৎ she grabs your ass before sliding herself into you. “you okay, baby?” she says as she starts to speed up her movements slightly. you barely mutter out a “yes” before she starts to speed up, thrusting into you, hitting the back of your gummy walls. you moan out ellie’s name like prayer. you hear her fucking you, the sound of your wetness and her soft grunts and moans fill the room. your mind is absolutely blank, only focusing on how good ellie is making you feel. she places a few soft kisses down your back. “you’re taking me so fucking well, fucking small pussy just begging to get fucked, huh?” ellie smiles to herself.

౨ৎ you felt her thighs brush against the back of your legs, fucking you just roughly enough to make you feel amazing. ellie’s hand shoved the back of your head into the pillow you were cradling. “i was gonna go easy on you, but since you don’t seem to be complaining…” she keeps up her movements inside you. “ah- ellie! i...im-” you moaned out, not being able to stifle your cries. you felt your neglected puffy clit cry out as ellie moved her hand to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves, kissing your back. as your milky white cum poured over her strap, she thrusted a few more times before pulling out of you. if you weren’t absolutely fucked out of your mind, you would’ve been embarrassed your roommate saw you like this, ass up in the air, cunt dripping and wet. as she helped you up onto your bed, pulling up a fresh pair of underwear on you and helping you put back on your shirt, she caressed your thigh where there was a scab forming over the small slit where she cut you.

౨ৎ “i’m sorry bun- i just, kinda got lost in the moment-” she said before you cut her off. “shut up, i fucking loved that. next time can we do it with the mask on?” you smile at her. “so i did a good job?” she says, like she wasn’t just rearranging your guts and making you scream and tear up just a few minutes ago. ellie gets up and brings you some water before you two cuddle each other.

౨ৎ “so…you wanna keep doing this then?” she says as she kisses your forehead. murderer or not, ellie was in your life no matter what.

♡ hai so basically this def didn’t turn out how i wanted oh well even tho i proofread there’s probably still mistakes sorry … i’m trying desperately to not make ellie sound like a stone cold fucking man during sex i’m really sorry bro it’s hard tbh i wanna make her dominant but also not afraid to moan and praise u when ur fucking help me 😭 i hope u all enjoy man i lowkey dipped my balls into this srsly ♡

[taelophone]

𓇼 Sea Ya⋅˚₊‧⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ TWs: Frat boys™ . Correct spelling of Hawai'i (Hawaii) . Reader's kinda manic sorry lol . Push And Pull dynamics . Thats it .

When you first moved to Hawai’i, you wanted to escape the loud and obnoxious masses that slowly began tearing holes in your peace's angelic fabric.

You had just graduated college, and with the sudden infiltration of Hawai’i content on your Pinterest board and Instagram explore page, you took one deep breath and fell back onto your bed. The pale white drywall stared back at you, whispering taunts of island life and sweet, succulent sunshine peeking through your open windows at seven in the morning.

Before you traded your life of concrete skylines and endless traffic, you had a love interest…at least you think you did. You had a bit of a push-and-pull dynamic, flickers of fleeting affection sustaining the both of you enough to satisfy the invisible craving.

Your rubber soles would thump and squeak down the halls, fresh rainwater dampening wherever you stepped as your hair suffered from the cost of the heavy shower. To make matters even worse, your roommate sent a text mere seconds prior, telling you to stay as far away from your shared dorm as possible due to the presence of a new…guest.

Great. Fucking, amazing.

You huffed, your soaked beige cardigan dripping the harsh reminders of your circumstances down your wrists as you dropped your hands to your sides. Defeat. Heavy with melancholy and anger, you decided to sit down wherever you were standing.

Your jaw clattered, your sensitive teeth chat-chat-chattering against their upstairs neighbors as you fought off the urge to strip away your winter clothes right there. All you could feel was the hefty load of freezing wool pressed against your chest, adding more weight to the heaviness of your heart.

It wasn’t until you heard a low amalgamation of voices— varying tones and depths rounding the corner as the group dispatched in separate directions, each seeking out the warmth and comfort of their beds after getting caught up in the frosty rain. Some had umbrellas, and some likely forgot theirs early in the morning in a desperate rush to classes.

You paid them no mind, your phone loosely held in your hand as your body shook from the cold’s constant nipping at your skin. It wasn’t until the voices filtered into silence that you realized; a pair of boots had stopped stomping next to you.

You looked up with what you now assume to have been the most helpless look known to man— wet lashes and quivering lips as frostbite possessed your facial features.

“Oh! My god, are you…okay? Where’s your umbrella, you’re soaking…” The stranger said, his eyes mulling over your darkened clothing and how you shivered on the floor.

He was tall with sculpted muscles, the kind that you could almost see through any thick and heavy cotton sweater. He was pale in the face but cupidly at the cheeks, his nose a charming shade of cherry.

“My roommate kicked me out for the night. She’s hooking up with someone and I can’t change because all of my fucking things are in my dorm,” you huffed, trying your best to calm your nerves while you stared up at the man.

“Damn, that sucks…Uhhh,” he began, looking around the empty corridor as if searching for some sort of solution to reach out and grab. “You can come to my dorm if you want. I have a heater and I can give you some clothes to change into. I just don’t want you to catch a cold or anything.”

You thought for a moment— and the longer you seemed to wait, the more your amygdala froze over and rendered itself useless. Everyone who had ever taught you in your life seemed to unite under one common phrase, “don’t follow strangers.”

But you couldn’t sense any malice in his tone. There was no impish malevolence or hellfire in his words that tripped the fire alarm in your brain. So you know what, what the hell. 

Sure.

“Uhh…sure. I’m freezing my ass off, that’s so nice of you,” you said, immediately scrambling to your feet. He nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face as he gestured his head in the direction down the hall.

You followed next to him, the icy silence wedging itself between you two with every single step you went without speaking. It wasn’t intentional, you just didn’t know him that well.

“Oh, I’m Luigi, by the way,” he said, giving you a glance with a rather boyish smile.

You nodded, exchanging names and majors with the young man as he told you all about his time in the Levine hall tinkering his life away. His voice carried an air of confidence, his smooth tone glossing over the curves and wrinkles of your mind like warm water.

“But yeah, I’ve been using the 3D printer a lot…been making a lot of little things, so please don’t be alarmed when you see my dorm,” he chuckled. He pulled a keycard from his wallet in his back pocket and slid it in front of the door handle of his dorm.

A tiny beep sounded through the hall, a little green light flashing thrice before he pushed open the sleek metal handle. A gentle gust of warm air welcomed you, followed by the smell of oak wood and the faintest tinge of cologne and aftershave as you stepped into the tiny space.

“Yooo, Pepper,” an unfamiliar voice said, a young man hanging halfway off his bed as his head nearly touched the glossy wooden planks of the floor. “Did you make me my thing?” He asked, his gaze glued to the ghostly hue of his screen.

“Nah,” Luigi chuckled before reaching into his back pocket and tossing a little Perry the Platypus in the direction of his roommate.

“Good looks, man,” the other man beamed, finally turning off his phone and doing a full crunch to sit up on his bed, only to finally see your shivering form standing in the doorway.

“Holy shit, what did you do to her?” He chuckled, his brows shooting up in concern and shock.

“I didn’t do that, I don’t even know what happened,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders with a brief raise of his brows as well. “Her roommate kicked her out so she could get some…interesting moral compass…”

The other man chuckled, a cheeky grin on his face as he turned to face you. “Is your roommate Stacy? Stacy Chin? Like… Five-three, Asian, hair always back in a stupid fucking ponytail?”

You paused, your face contorting into slight confusion as your head tilted to the side.

“Uh…yeah, that’s her, why?” You asked.

“NO FUCKING WAY.” He shouted, letting out a loud cackle that strongly resembled the squawk of a threatened mother goose. “DUDE. Pep, she’s with Henderson!”

“HENDERSON!? OF ALL PEOPLE? HENDERSON?” He gasped, a wide grin on his face as his hands frantically searched each drawer in his shared closet while he joined his roommate in his laughter. “Is that why he’s been ducking us?”

You had never felt more confused in your life. Two young men before you conversed about someone named Henderson, which you presumed was his last name because what mother would name their child such a thing? 

“Yo, pneumonia gorgeous, tell your roommate to return our boy, please. He’s missed every single family dinner and keg wars. He’s not being very sigma right now,” he giggled, shooting a glance in your direction with a quick upward nod of his head. 

Apparently, your name was pneumonia now.

“Oh I'm sorry, I’m Logan,” He added, a hand over his chest in a momentary pardon before Luigi handed you a rather large monochrome Adidas hoodie and some white gym shorts that were sure to hang off your hips if you didn’t utilize the drawstrings.

You weren’t really sure how to respond, giving Logan a polite nod with a slightly frightened smile. Oh how forward an excited man could be.

“Uh…where should I change?” You asked, glancing around the dorm in frantic search of a bathroom. You didn’t want to walk all the way to the communal bathroom just to change, and it didn’t exactly seem smart to walk all the way around the world with no bag and a handful of sopping wet clothes.

“Maybe in the closet?” Luigi suggested, leaning over slightly and sizing up the remaining space in the small walk-in. When he gaged the available space, he glanced at you, then back and forth between the closet and your form before nodding.

“Sorry about the mess…SOMEONE doesn’t wanna do his laundry,” he hinted, widening his eyes and side-eying Logan.

“Fuck you,” Logan said with a brief flash of his middle finger.

Luigi chuckled, making his way away from the entryway of his dorm and crashing down onto his bed.

“I won’t look, but Logan’s weird, so I can’t promise anything for him…” he joked, laying flat on his stomach with his face buried in his pillows.

You sighed internally, retracing your life choices and trying to figure out what led you to slum it out with two strangers in their dorm room while you changed in their raggedy old closet. It was dark and faintly smelled of cologne and marijuana, but you were grateful to finally peel the layers of freezing-cold clothing off of your body.

When you emerged from the dark closet, a pile of clothes in your hands, the first thing you did was step further into the dorm, standing in the good-sized gap between Logan and Luigi’s bed.

“Do either of you guys have like, a plastic bag for me to put these in? I have no idea how long Stacy’s gonna take,” you sighed.

“Don’t worry, it’s Henderson. Knowing him, you’ll be back in your dorm in under thirty seconds” Logan laughed.

“Ignore him, he’s evil,” Luigi giggled, shushing Logan briefly before turning over and sitting up, grabbing a UPenn canvas tote bag from the leg of his bed’s frame and walking over to hand it to you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, placing your clothes in the rough beige bag.

“No problem. You can stay here for a bit if you want, I’m almost so positive they’re going to take…oh my god, they’re gonna take forever,” he sighed, running his hands across his face like he could feel the grey hairs sprouting on his head. “Logan, he’s not gonna be at the bar crawl.”

“This fucker misses EVERYTHING! Pneumonia, PLEASE tell Stacy to release this man’s balls, I’m BEGGING YOU!” Logan shouted, visible distress on his face as he gripped his tufts of brown hair.

You chuckled quietly, their shared sense of agony over one absentee from their planned bar crawl tickled your heartstrings a little. It was so silly in the most unserious way possible.

You got comfy on the floor, your knees meeting your chest as you rested your arms around your legs. The steady warmth of their dorm helped bring feeling and comfort to your numb skin— coziness washed over you as you patiently waited for Stacy to text you the signal that it was okay to come back in.

While you sat on the floor, you examined Luigi’s side of the room. Littered with 3D-printed figures ranging from Pokemon to random shapes, his desk looked exactly like what you would imagine some sort of geek would have. 

Organized, tidy, and almost completely clear with the exception of a pair of browline glasses, a few stray papers, and a little Breloom figurine. How cute.

The room was quiet except for the steady hum of the old heater, working double-time to pump a steady flow of heat into the shared space. You hummed to yourself, letting time pass you by as you scrolled on your phone.

An hour turned two, and two turned three as you slowly relaxed more and more on the floor. 7:37 at night.

Ding!

‘ ok ur good he just left ‘

“That’s Stacy. Bye, guys! Thanks for letting me stay, I was literally gonna die out there” you chuckled, standing straight up and waving to each of the frat brothers. They waved their goodbyes in return, Luigi paying just a little bit more attention compared to Logan before you closed the door behind you, listening for the electronic whirr of the lock.

And that’s how you met Luigi. While your first impressions of each other were equally strange, neither of you seemed to really stick it to the other whenever you crossed paths.

And after a while, you slowly started to orbit each other a little more. Anytime Stacy found herself tangled up with ”Henderson”, who you now learned to be James, you’d go knock-knock-knocking on his dorm door with a heavy sigh of resignation.

At some point, he grew to expect your presence at least 4 times a month. As Stacy and James grew closer, so did you and Luigi.

But you never really seemed to get closer beyond that.

There was a thick and impenetrable wall between the two of you, one that seemed to only come down when monitored by the presence of his frat brother Logan. You had grown close enough to sit at the foot of Luigi’s bed, legs crossed in tense modesty as you chatted back and forth about your day.

There was an occasional shift in the energy, where you’d sometimes lay next to Luigi while he showed you something on his phone. Sometimes, after he showed you whatever it was he wanted to, you’d stay shoulder-to-shoulder with him under his blue blankets and talk about your philosophies and plans for the future.

A veterinarian, a computer scientist, building gag robots for another pro-capitalistic ride at Disney, a manic artist wielding a paintbrush to the mirror where a gun would inevitably be…whatever seemed to cross your mind at the moment.

There were moments when everything felt all too intimate to be casual. The days when Stacy and James decided to make the most of their alone time, banishing you to the outdoors until the wee hours of the morning.

It was those days when you laid with Luigi, your backs pressed together while your heartbeats thumped as one. All the angels rumored to inhabit heaven seemed to have all eyes on you as your silent snores filled the room, your comfortable breathing serving as a bittersweet reminder that this would all be over in the morning.

And then you’d be back to push. 

You had completely different majors, so you didn’t really share any classes with him. And if you did happen to see him in the halls or around campus, it was nothing much more than a brief smile and a wave before both of you scurried off to wherever it was you needed to be.

However, there was a time in which the wall between you and Luigi came crumbling down with the weight of a strange tension that lingered in the air.

It was a warm spring evening, the kind where bugs began to crawl and creep around every crevice of the world in an effort to indulge themselves in all the sunshine and pollen they missed during the winter. Spring break prepared to rear her floral features, taunting your exhausted mind with her fleeting touch.

You sat in Luigi’s dorm for what felt like the thousandth time that year, your ass flat on the ground in your pink Lulu shorts and white fitted Bebe tee. You fidgeted with one of Luigi’s fidget toys absentmindedly— some sort of multi-buttoned cube— while you talked about your plans for after graduation.

“I don’t know…I think once I graduate I’m getting the fuck out of here for a bit. I've been trying to go out of state…Philly’s getting old” you sighed.

“Philly? You think Philly’s boring? Something happens here like every other day,” he chuckled, his brows pinching together slightly.

“Well, when you’re in the same area like every single day, any city can get boring,” you shrugged.

He nodded, immediately understanding where you were coming from after you clarified. He glanced over at you, watching as you leaned against Logan’s bed in his absence.

“Climb up here, please. Logan’s got some stuff under his bed that I don’t want you to see” he pleaded, gesturing toward his bed.

“At least buy me a drink first” you huffed sarcastically, rolling your eyes before making your way over to Luigi’s bed.

“I’d totally buy you a drink” he chuckled, watching as you laid down on your stomach at the end of his bed.

“I think I’d approach you at a bar…I dunno I’d probably be not sober,” you chortled quietly.

“So you’d have to be drunk to get with me? Ouch, you’re so kind!” He fake gasped.

“Nah. I’d do it sober. Dry levels of soberness. Fifteen years sober” you joked, raising your brows briefly, partially involuntary on your part.

Body language is stupid.

He chuckled, higher than normal. It almost sounded like a girlish giggle— one you’d expect to hear from a girl nervously chuckling at a sweet comment from her high school sweetheart.

“You’d hook up with me?” He asked a tone of sincerity with a hint of something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Well…” you began, propping yourself up on your elbows, your beaded bracelets and bangles clinking and twinkling with your movements.

“You don’t seem like a hookup guy. You’re more like a lover-boy,” you explained, your fingertips gently tracing the outer shell of your ear as your stomach suddenly knotted itself.

“Really?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

You nodded, sitting up straight to crack your back and stretch your arms.

“I wouldn’t do you like that. You’re much too thoughtful and good to be a one-and-done.”

Hearing you say that almost frightened him. Butterflies erupted in his stomach, the fluttery friends impeding his brain receptors from forming a response as his cheeks went light pink. It was a good thing the sun became more common in the spring, if this had been winter, he was sure his pale complexion would have given him away immediately.

“That’s actually…so sweet, thank you,” He stammered, suddenly feeling extremely warm.

“Yeah, for sure,” you smiled, meeting his eyes briefly before shuffling your legs under you, shifting a little closer to him in the process.

When you met his gaze again, it was like the brown eyes of Mother Nature were staring back into yours. Deep, warm, onyx voids of emotion searching yours as your hearts made futile attempts to beat out of their rib cages.

Closer. Closer. Come here, I just want you closer.

Come closer. Kiss me, I promise I won’t fuck it up. 

Can I?

The way your minds seemingly connected to one another was almost spiritual— communicating back and forth like they were from the same consciousness.

“Pepper!! Good news, David said he’d get us a keg”

You nearly jumped, making a conscious effort to not seem surprised as Logan suddenly swung the front door open, effectively cockblocking you two.

“Oh…nice,” Luigi said, glancing at you briefly with slight guilt and worry. Like the word was imprinted on his eyes, you caught it like a softball.

Sorry.

And that was the last time you ever managed to get that close to Luigi again.

Now you were on your own, far out in the Pacific on the little island of Hawai’i. You still clutch your beige canvas tote bag, a painful reminder of your own failure to speak up in your college years. 

It had since been painted over— raspberry-tinted hibiscuses accompanied by slate blue foamy waves. Inside carried your multi-button fidget cube, pressing and clicking each button as you stood on the sandy beach in the early mornings.

Like now. You finished up the last of your spam musubi, letting the salty and tangy flavor of the soy-glazed spam fill your mouth long with the soft white rice.

The nori crunched under your teeth, buckling under the gentle force of your jaw as you finished the remainder of your breakfast. As you walked the expanse of the white and sandy beach, kicking up sand along the way, you decided to stop for a moment and sit down.

The quiet crash of the waves filled your ears, the salty breeze kissing your waterline slightly as you watched the sunrise. You hummed to yourself, swaying side-to-side absent-mindedly as you tuned out your surroundings.

If you were paying attention, you would have heard the sounds of a morning jogger approaching your form. If you were paying attention, you would have realized how familiar the man looked as he began to fade into view.

“Oh shit,” Luigi murmured, stopping in his tracks and pointing at you like a shiny Pokemon in the wild. “I know you!”

You looked up, your brows furrowing slightly at the sudden statement. You felt it before you heard it; the familiar pull on your heartstrings as Luigi slowly approached you.

Your eyes met his, a silent smile spreading on your face as you got on your feet again. 

“Hey!” You beamed, unsure of whether or not to pull him into a hug. After all, he was shirtless and panting, a clear indicator of just how long he had been outside running.

He smiled back at you, his strong and soft-looking chest rising and falling with every breath. “Hey! It’s good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too,” You nodded, immediately digging through your tote bag to find the little fidget toy you had kept years prior, presenting it before him with a cheesy smile. He looked at it with a surprised smirk, a wave of nostalgia washing over him as he gently picked up the fidget toy between his pointer and thumb.

“Oh, so it was you,” he chuckled, his thumb running over the various buttons before he carelessly shoved it into the side pocket of his swim trunks.

“Yeah, sorry…I literally just forgot to put it down,” you sighed. 

“I figured it was something along those lines…don’t worry I wasn’t mad. I was actually happier you had it versus someone else, I knew I’d get it back eventually” he smiled, brows pinching together directly after as he whirled his head around his surroundings.

“…Just not in Hawai’i.”

You laughed, giving him an apologetic nod as the warm air prompted the both of you to release all your unspoken emotions. Hardships, hassles, anger, pain, regret, and frustrations all seemed to bubble over the surface as you began to walk down the beach together.

It was just like three years ago— spending your days in his compact dorm with the company of another man you had since forgotten the name of. With Luigi, it seemed as if neither of you could keep your mouth shut for more than five minutes.

Gentle, and deep conversations, the kind where one would normally be post-breakdown or manic to let these kinds of thoughts slip out unprovoked. Maybe it was the steamy grains of sand under the soles of your feet, the gentle massage prompting you to release the pent-up stress and trauma you’d accumulated over the years.

Or maybe it was just Luigi, who despite the awkward and what should have been alarming circumstances of your first interaction, always reassured you.

“So how’s your time been in Hawai’i so far? You said you were here for a vacation, right?” You asked, gently wondering what the fuck he was doing on the coast of Honolulu.

“I had a spine injury a couple months ago…and it pretty much just made my spine worse than it already was. But I kinda just wanted to come here to heal,” he shrugged, his thumb pressing each button on the fidget cube ritualistically.

“White boy comes to an island to heal!? Where have I heard that before…” you joked, pretending to cross your arms and think hard about this new information.

“Stop it, stop it,” he giggled, shaking his head in faux disapproval. “It’s not like that I promise.”

He took your wordless and slightly smug nod as he used that time to take in your appearance after all these years. Still the same young woman, but matured with time like a fine and fruity glass of wine.

Sunkissed skin, freshly sprouted faint freckles on your arms, and a little calmer compared to your time at university. He was glad that after the hell you both endured in college, you were able to find somewhere that made you happy.

“Oh, by the way,” he began, his hands coming up to his temples as if his train of thought had just stopped off at the correct station. “I was gonna go get some fruit and poké later. I’d appreciate it if you came with me.”

You paused, that familiar warmth spreading to your face as you turned around to look at him.

“Sure, yeah, that sounds nice.”

[back2bluesidex]

Everything's Fair - PJM [Masterlist]

Patreon Membership Exclusive Drabble Series

Part of Bangtan Chaebol Universe

Pairing: Chaebol!Jimin X Fem!Reader

Theme: pining, tiny angst, smut, Jimin is whipped, eventual fluff, strangers to lovers au. Drabble series.

Summary: Jimin has dated a shit ton of people. He has slept with even more of them, but never once he managed to fall in love. That was until you came into his life and managed to make him go head over heels with just one sight. Umm.. so what if you are his fuck-buddy's new roommate? Everything is fair in love and war.  And Jimin only knows how to win.

Warnings: smut, Jimin is evil, he is a fuckboy too, more will be added as the story progresses. NSFW!!

A/N: I will be updating once a week. The length of each chapter will be 1k to 1.5K since it's a drabble series. this is a refined version of a seokjin series I started but couldn't continue.

Chapter Index:-

Part one: Love at first sight

Part two: She is single

Part three: At the vending machine

Part four: Drive you home?

Part five: Is it unfair?

Part six: Finally the confession

Part seven: A minor inconvenience

Part eight: It's raining cats and dogs

Part nine: Late night ramen

Part ten: Park Jimin is dating!? [Finale]

Sneak Peek

Jimin’s knuckles drum on the wooden door as he waits for Minji or her faceless new roommate to open the door for him. 

He hears shuffling on the other side of the door but the door doesn’t open just yet. 

“Who is this?” a voice asks. Since it’s not Minji - it must be the roommate, Jimin thinks. 

“Ah.. I am Jimin, Minji’s friend.” he replies. He decides to introduce himself as her friend, of course, he can’t say: hey hi, I am here to fuck Minji in your shared home. 

“Oh. okay.'' The voice seems to be convinced as the person on the other side finally opens the door wide enough for him to enter. 

If Jimin stops breathing for a moment then he doesn’t dwell upon it. 

Minji’s new roommate, you, are absolutely the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. 

Your hair cascades down your shoulders, you have a small face with a set of big doe eyes, a pair of nice pink lips and a not-so-well-shaped nose. 

By no means do you look like a model or a beauty pageant winner. But you very much look like a person completely capable of captivating Park Jimin with a single glance.

[lovegalor333]

Warm December

part three of paigemas

paige bueckers x reader

paige surprises you by staying in storrs for christmas so you’re not alone

⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆

The holiday season was a weird and complicated time for you. It came with a lot of bad memories since your mom died and home was the last place you wanted to be so the decision to stay in Storrs was an easy one. Your family were unbothered and didn’t have much to say when you broke the news. Your stepmom said she would save money not having to buy you gifts and your dad just grunted down the phone. A few years ago, this would have probably made you cry but you were used to your parents attitude now and you were grateful you went to college so far away from home.

It was December 21st and you had waved your roommates goodbye, cars full with wrapped presents and snacks you had packed for them. They both drove off in the falling snow, with Christmas music blasting from their speakers. Both girls tried to get you to go home with them, insisting their families would be happy to have an extra guest at their table but you weren’t one to impose and besides, you had a long list of books you wanted to read. The thought of bunkering down in your cosy apartment, spiced candles lit, a mug of hot tea in your hand and getting lost in a romance novel appealed to you more than you’d like to admit.

Before meeting your girlfriend, you lived vicariously through the relationships you read about. Fantasising about a love like Elizabeth Bennets and Mr Darcys. After being single your whole life, you were starting to believe that maybe love like that was entirely fictional and then along came Paige. Six foot tall, blonde, blue eyes and pure muscle. You and Paige had the most typical friends to lovers timeline. Having met through mutual friends, you quickly bonded over your Midwest roots and you both found yourselves wanting to spend more and more time together. You were both wildly oblivious to each other’s pining and it took one too many shots and a very calculated game of spin the bottle (thanks Azzi) for you to finally realise that you were on the same page.

Speaking of your girlfriend, she had also travelled home today. You said goodbye with tears in your eyes and one final kiss. “I’ll FaceTime you everyday.” Paige had said, “I want to know what happens at the end of Emma.” Paige loved listening to you talk about your current read, she insisted she cared about the storyline but with the way she looked at you, eyes soft and a small smile on her lips, you knew you could say absolutely anything and she’d listen intently.

The evening was drawing in and you had turned off all the big lights, your apartment lit by fairy lights and candles alone. The Christmas tree in the corner of the room glowed warmly making the space feel like a cosy grotto. The whole place smelled like cinnamon and with your Christmas playlist softly emitting from your Alexa, it softened the blow that you’d be alone at this time of year.

A knock on your apartment door broke through your thoughts and you imagined it was your Post Mates order so you carefully placed your book mark inbetween the pages you were currently reading and went to answer the door. Your door step was empty, nothing or nobody was there and you furrowed your brow in confusion and peeked your head around the door to see who knocked.

It took you a few seconds to process what you saw, “Paige! What are you doing here?” You gasp, seeing your girlfriend, body pressed against the wall, a huge cheesy grin on her face and a red santa hat perched on her head, “Surprise, my love.”

“You’re meant to be on a plane right now!” You say as she pulls you into a hug. Paiges hugs were hands down your favourite thing in this whole world. The way her arms snaked around your waist and squeezed you tight, the way her head nuzzled into your neck as she pressed light kisses to your skin. Your nostrils were filled with her scent, a scent you had prepared yourself to not smell for a few weeks and you breathed in deeply taking in as much of it as you could.

“I’m meant to be right here.” Paige says walking back into your apartment with one arm still wrapped around your waist.

“What are you talking about? I thought you were going back to Minnesota.”

“I was. And then I thought about it. Go there where I’ll just get grilled by my family about shit I cannot be bothered to explain or stay here. With you. Where we can be with each other all day and night. Where I can make you tea while you read and you can cook while…I watch because God knows I’ll burn the place down.” Paige tucks your hair behind your ear and her eyes skim over your face, “You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone did you?” She asks, her thumb gently stroking your cheek.

“I don’t know. Kinda. But it’s normal, everyone goes home. I wouldn’t have minded.” You mumble looking into Paiges eyes. You wouldn’t have resented Paige for going home for the holidays, it wasn’t her fault your family didn’t know how to act. “You know I love you, right? Like a lot. And Christmas is about being with the people you love. Now come and sit on Santas lap and tell me what’s on your list.” Paige smirked as she pulled you to the couch, positioning you on her lap.

You giggled as Paige did her best Santa impression. Voice deep and gravelly, “Have you been a good girl this year?” You nod playing into her game, “Very good.”

Paige raised a brow, breaking character, her usual accent back, “Good girls arch their back, ass up?” You gasped, lightly slapping her arm, “Paige! Santa would not say that!”

“Oh my bad- Ho ho ho! What’s on your Christmas list?” She regained composure, putting on her Santa voice once again, holding her stomach as she ho’d, really getting into character.

“Didn’t make a list. Everything I need is all right here.” You smile, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your girlfriends lips. “I love you, Paige.” “I love you too.”

The rest of your night was spent cuddled into Paige on your couch. The Christmas lights around your dim apartment twinkled silently as you watched your favourite festive movie - The Holiday. Paige traced delicate shapes into your back and every now and then you would catch her staring at you. The light from the television illuminating her perfect features. She would press soft kisses to your head when a romantic scene played and when you found yourself sniffling as the young characters on screen laid in their fort and spoke about their mom who had passed away, Paige slipped her hand into yours and squeezed it tightly.

The holiday season was a weird and complicated time for you but like always Paige was there to make it less weird and less complicated and for that, you could only let a tear slip out of your eye. Grateful for the girl next to you and her deep, unapologetic love.

two posts in an hour so im back on track 🙂‍↕️ happy christmas eve eve baddies 💋

🏷️: @buecketsnbueckets @rosemariiaa @sierrale8ne @avvwritesstufff @blackbarbie96 @melpthatsme @jnkbueckers @cloclos-posts @onlyhereforpazzi @paigeshirleytemple @mattsmunchkin @bueckersbitch @rizzlerbuckets @numberonepartyanth3m @washing-machine-heart245 @katemartinlvr @girlslovee @taylynbueckers44 @thatonequeer0358 @the-other-half @xxxggggsh @evry1luvzza

[danosrosegarden]

I’m still think about nashton going ape on a flesh light. Give us the whiplash baybee!!!

wear me out, turn me on - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW) ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚♡

{contents ♡ bit of fluff, male masturbation, toy usage}

{word count ♡ ~700}

♡ a hot sheen of shame was already sizzling like oil in a pan on his reddened cheeks before he even took it out of the package. it was almost as if he'd already used it. his trembling hands. the skipping of his heart.

♡ edward really wasn't one for porn. the videos smelled like plastic. they felt thin and easy to break through. cellophane. it just wasn't appealing. he'd much rather think of you.

♡ a good roommate in gotham was his biggest, brightest blessing. work peeled his skin away and his thunderstorm brain ripped out the exposed guts. he was so used to life washing out any droplets of happiness that ran through his blood, he assumed joy just wasn't for him. but then there was you.

♡ you brewed him coffee early in the morning. you sat with him in warm, thick, comfortable silence when he came home deflated from another exhausting workday. you even helped him work through the tough clues on his crosswords. he knew the answers already, but it was cute to see the cogs turn in your brain as you sifted through possible options.

♡ your friendship was something he held gently in his cupped hands as if it would shatter into pieces if he squeezed too hard. it was wholesome. it was sweetness. it had also been his masturbation material ever since you moved in together.

♡ it was your fault, really. it's not like he was sending out requests for a gorgeous roommate with twinkling eyes and a beautifully beaming smile with a wonderful sense of humor and a soft heart of kindness. it just happened.

♡ the littlest things set him off. you breezed by him and he caught a whooshing slash of your scent? suddenly he needs the bathroom for a few minutes. you were doing laundry and he saw a peek of your underwear hanging out from your basket? he needs to get something from his room real quick. he'll be right back.

♡ he'd never used something besides his hand to help out before. so he takes his time. he runs his finger along the silky smooth silicone. he wonders what it would be like if it was his fingers on you right now. how you might shiver at his gentle touch, how you might bite at your lip when he gets close to brushing against a sensitive spot.

♡ it's a good thing he's home alone right now, because he's loud when he finally gets his new toy wrapped around his flushed cock, already lubed from the dribbles of precum running down. the squeeze is warm and tight, and he thinks of you, you, only you, as he drags his hips back and forth.

♡ he can't help the quivering words that climb from his throat. they spill out between high, breathy whimpers. god, that feels so fucking good. you feel so good. please, please, please.

♡ he's trying to hold back, trying to wipe the light dusting of sweat that's causing his glasses to slip, but it's difficult when he finally has something to help him imagine what you'd feel like if it was you around him. he feels it brewing and bubbling up in his gut. his hips stutter and shake, his breathing is loud and jagged, and the groans pouring from his mouth are just pathetic. if it was really you, he'd try harder to last. he'd be good for you. but now, in this moment, he didn't give a fuck about any of that. he wanted to be selfish, chasing his pleasure with a bounding, sweat-soaked sprint.

♡ he tries to bite down on his lip, but the whining cry comes tumbling out anyway as his orgasm engulfs him. he doesn't care if anyone in the complex heard his muffles moans. he doesn't care that he probably looks wrecked. he doesn't even care that thick streaks of cum are dripping down the opening of the toy and onto his hand. it felt good to be greedy.

♡ in that moment, it didn't matter to him that he may never work up the courage to make his filthy dreams turn into truth. now he had something to at least help him pretend, and he couldn't wait to cook up more fantasies to play with.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

[wip!] the art & science of parenting || jay park

update: this fic's been posted!! click here to read!

a/n: hellaur everyoneeee here's a lil summary & drabble into another wip i'm working on rn,,,i had this idea in the back of my head for SO incredibly long (im talking since 2021 pls) and decided to finally go for it :') so here's a lil peek for the time being to prove i'm still alive heh. i hope you guys like this concept,,,idk why but i really envisioned jay in this trope maybe because i plan on making it very fun & lighthearted but mixed in with some serious & angsty tones...we shall seeeee....you know i love my college!aus and e2l!aus heheh anyways saur sorry im yapping now! lmk what you think & if you want to be tagged !!

genre: jay x female!reader, fluff, comedy, college!au, enemies to lovers!au, parenting!au (parenting a robot baby LMAO), sum angst maybe, both reader & jay are smartasses who don't know how to communicate and confront their feelings , also a bit of photographer!jay :')

summary: The Art & Science of Parenting 101 (PSY1009) – In this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. Through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child.' Late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal. What you didn’t expect to be part of the deal? Getting paired with Jay Park—the last person you’d trust to raise, well, anything. You’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. Now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade.  Warning: Sleep deprivation is guaranteed. And maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. Good luck!

longer drabble under cut! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Y/N and Jay."  

Wait. What?  

Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.  

You blink. You must have misheard.  

"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."  

The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.  

And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.' 

"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly.  

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago.  

But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him.  

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you. "You don't want to play house with me?"  

You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon. "I don’t," you reply flatly. "In fact, I’d rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you." 

Jay’s eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?" 

"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply." 

"See, that’s the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life. And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he breathes in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.

Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup.  

Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery.  

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.  

Your grade? Plummeting as we speak.  Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two.  And you?  

You're screwed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

decided to go for a longer sneak peek than usual bc im very excited about this one heh :) i also changed up my title image formatting..trying out smth new !!!

lmk if you want to be tagged!

<3, addie

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Roommates? (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You move into Mel's spare room

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: praise kink if you squint, swearing, mentions of alcohol

AN: Written after 3x07.

You groaned as you dropped into your seat in the break room, not hungry for the lunch you’d packed for yourself. Burying your head in your hands, you did your best to try not to think about the email you’d just received. It was hard when your stress was becoming all encompassing after weeks of it.

“What going on with you?”

You groaned again, even when you felt the brush of an arm against yours. The floral scent you’d grown accustomed to over the last few years wafted towards you. Melissa. Your closest friend at the school, and the person you’d been pining after for so long you’d lost any self respect you might have had.

“That place I was going to move into fell through,” you said, “I feel like I’ve seen every spare room in this city and there is no where to live.”

You peeked at her from between your fingers, hating to sound so whiny but knowing that your stress levels had reached breaking point. She was looking at you with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous look. You sighed, sitting up properly under her watchful gaze.

“You know Jacob’s looking for a place too,” Gregory said from the other table.

“I know,” you groaned, “he suggested we look for a place together and I can’t commit to living and working with that man. He once tried to rap at me about the Martin Luther King Jr and I can’t have that in my home.”

“I get that,” Gregory replied, “why are you even looking for a new place to live? Your place is nice.”

“My roommate keeps watching me when I sleep. Sometimes I wake up and she’s standing at the end of my bed just staring at me. It freaks me out.”

“Well hey, I’m thinking of renting out my spare room. Would you be interested, hon?”

You hadn’t expected Melissa to say that.

“Really?”

She gave you one of those small smiles that you’d never seen her give another person. Your heart fluttered and you found your cheeks heating up.

“Really,” she said, “you can pay rent, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied.

“You can move in this weekend,” she said.

Come Saturday, your things were in boxes and bags, and you had a spring in your step. You were humming to yourself as you packed up your car, your entire life filling the seats and the trunk. You took one last look at the building, sighed, then got in your car and drove to the next chapter of your life.

It wasn’t until you were standing in front of the door that the reality of what you were about to do crashed into you. Living with Melissa. Being in her space all the time. Existing in close proximity. She was going to see you first thing in the morning. You were going to see her late at night.

Your crush was going to either get so much worse or dissipate when you saw all of her annoying habits.

The door opened before you could knock, revealing the red head who starred in so many of your dreams. You blinked, rearing back, not having expected her to suddenly appear. Her lips quirked up, hand snapping out to grasp you around the elbow before you could fall backwards.

“Were you planning on knocking or do you wanna live on my front step?” she asked.

“ I was… just about to… can you help with my boxes?” you asked instead, switching tracks without having to explain yourself.

“Sure, hon,” she chuckled, slipping past you.

Watching her lift your heavy boxes set off something primal in you. You followed behind her, your own arms full of your stuff. She led you up the stairs and into her spare bedroom, placing the boxes down on the made up bed.

“Well, here you are. Bed, dresser, the bathroom is down the hall. You can have a a shelf in the fridge. Your key is just there. Let me know if you need anything else,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Do you need help with the rest of your stuff?” she asked.

“Only if you want to. I can do it myself. It’s no bother.” You had no idea why you were saying no. You felt flustered. You always felt a bit flustered around her.

“Come on, hon,” she said, giving you an indulgent smile, “the sooner we start the sooner we’ll be done.”

She left you alone after pttling the last of the boxes into your room, leaving you to unpack and settle in. Sorting your clothes into colours helped to ease your thoughts, the mindless work turning your head empty. It calmed you, getting your life in order so you could get your thoughts in order.

It wasn’t going to be so bad living with Melissa. She was being nice to you which was more than Jacob or Janine had been able to say after their cooking lesson with her. Accommodating was the word. She was almost going out of her way to be nice.

And most importantly you could keep your crush to yourself without ruining it all.

That night, she made dinner, offering you some and then curled up on the couch with a glass of wine. You were hesitant about joining her, hovering until she rolled her eyes and tugged you to sit beside her.

But it was easy to fall into a routine with her. Surprisingly easy. So easy that you didn’t even notice until a few weeks in.

Sitting at the table on a Wednesday night, doing the puzzle you’d started over the weekend, you listened to her hum in the kitchen. Something was bubbling on the stove top, the smell mouth watering. You looked up as fingers pushed a piece towards you.

“Thanks,” you said, looking up at her.

She was already smiling at you and you couldn’t help but smile back. It was an instinctual response. You couldn’t help it when it came to Mel.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“Always,” you replied, knowing it was the answer she wanted.

“C’mon then, hon, make some room. Can’t have you starving before you finish that patch of sky,” she said.

“You’re teasing but I saw you get excited when you finished the boat,” you said, clearing your pieces away from one end of the table.

Sitting across from her, the lights soft and warm, there was always something a little romantic to the feeling. Of course, you were sure it was all in your head but you couldn’t help but enjoy it, just a little, more than you should. She would look at you, those twinkling green eyes making you flush, and her smile had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Still, every night felt like domestic bliss. Coming home with her, in the bubble of her house, the quiet night pressing in on the window, it was the kind of life you hadn’t known you’d been missing.

“You’re a goddess in the kitchen,” you said.

She’d waited for you to try her food, just as she always did before beginning to eat her own meal. Her foot brushed against yours under the table, making you jump. She chuckled, doing it again and you felt your cheeks heat and your heart stumble over itself.

Some days it almost felt like she was flirting with you.

“You’re sweet, hon,” she said.

You found your foot brushing against hers again, emboldened by her bashful response. Those green eyes flicked up to you, something twinkling in their depths. You weren’t sure how you looked but you were worried you’d shown your hand to her.

Dropping your foot back to the floor, you averted your gaze down to the plate of pasta she’d laid down in front of you. Her foot nudged yours before resting against it, length to length, the warmth of her skin seeping into yours.

She kept silent the rest of the meal, following your lead. You weren’t sure you could say anything, not with her foot against yours. Certainly not if she was watching you.

You remained silent as you cleared the table once she was done. Standing shoulder to shoulder at the sink, you did the washing up together, working in companionable tandem. You were so in tune with one another after living together for those few weeks, working together came without flaws.

“Are you gonna be watching our show tonight?” she asked into the silence.

You didn’t say no.

Sitting beside her on the sofa had always been trouble for you. Shoulder to shoulder, lit by nothing but the flickering screen, sharing a bowl of popcorn until your hands brushed together, it had always been a specific type of torture for you. The air always felt electric to you, and you knew it didn’t for her.

Except this night her head fell to your shoulder and her body curled towards yours. You froze until she admonished you, doing your best to relax your muscles. And there you stayed until she went to bed, feeling as if you had entered some kind of parallel universe.

Thursday night you’d put the entire odd experience behind you. She hadn’t mentioned it over breakfast or on the car ride over to school. On the ride back home she’d sung along to the radio, keeping her hands and feet to herself. You’d thought it was done. You thought you wouldn’t be tortured anymore.

But after you’d changed out of your school clothes and into something more comfortable, a knock sounded on your door. Opening the door, you found her in the hall, wet hair clinging to the skin of her neck, a towel wrapped around her body. You stumbled back a step, blinking at the vision before you.

“Um…” was all you managed to say.

“Have you seen my Eagles hoodie?” she asked.

“No,” you replied faintly, doing your best to not let your eyes wander further south than her chin.

“You sure? Because I can’t find it,” she said.

“Did you check in the washing?” you asked, hoping that would send her away.

“I thought you mighta borrowed it,” she said, lips tipping up into a small smirk, “you always seem to like it when I wear it. Can’t keep your hands off me.”

You felt your cheeks heat even further, deeper, almost uncomfortably. You looked down at your feet, terrified to be caught staring at her. You didn’t need to come across as a creep to her, ruining your friendship completely and irrevocably.

“I’m just teasing, hon,” she said, shoving your shoulder, “it’s probably in the wash.”

You were left staring at her retreating back as she left you be with your swirling thoughts and thundering heart, breathless from the image of all that skin on display. You were slow to close your door, leaning back against it as you breathed out a long sigh. Pressing a hand to your chest, you could feel the beating of your heart against your skin, practically bursting from your body.

The after image of her in the towel stayed in your mind until you could bring yourself to venture downstairs.

She was standing at the hob, stirring something on the stove, dressed in the familiar grey hoodie she’d been looking for. You blinked then stepped further in. She turned, smiling at you over her shoulder.

“Wanna help me out here?” she asked, seeming not bothered by the interaction upstairs.

“Sure,” you said, wanting to move past it too. Clearly, it hadn’t effected her the way it had effected you.

“Can you keep stirring this for me? I gotta start on the chopping,” she said.

“Sure,” you said again.

Your fingers brushed over hers as you took the wooden spoon from her. She paused a moment, eyes roving over your face. You held your breath, frozen, waiting, wondering what she was thinking.

“Keep stirring, hon,” she whispered, hand guiding yours, the skin of her palm warm against yours.

Slipping away, you kept your eyes on the pot, not wanting her to see the way you were beginning to come undone. One day you could brush off as weird, two made you wonder what was going on.

A warm hand landed on your hip, practically burning through the fabric of your leggings. A soft chin rested on your shoulder, looking over you as you continued stirring. You didn’t know what to do but keep stirring. If you focused on the warmth and the soft body brushing against your back you might melt into a puddle of goo.

“Good job, hon,” she murmured, lips brushing your earlobe.

A small squeak came from your parted lips and her throaty chuckle only made you feel as if you were crumbling in her arms. Those hands on your hips gently pushed you out of the way, fingers plucking the spoon from your hand.

“Go on, go finish that patch of sky. I can finish up here,” she said, sounding as if she had no idea the turmoil she was causing you.

You simply nodded and wandered back to the dining table. You sat, staring at the pieces, trying to reel your thoughts back in. A finger absently ran along the sides of the puzzle, feeling the gaps for the missing pieces. It wasn’t that Melissa wasn’t tactile, sometimes she could be, but this whole thing was something more. A step further.

A little closer to the kind of relationship you wanted with her.

That night she curled up against you again, cheek resting on your shoulder in the flickering light of the tv, hand resting on the thigh hers was resting against. You spent the entire time holding your breath until she slipped away to her room.

Friday left you on tenterhooks. Once again she was normal right up until your return home after a day at school. You were considering retreating into your room and not emerging for the rest of the night. It felt as if she was playing a game with you and you hadn’t been informed of the rules.

And yet you kind of revelled in the attention, if only because it might be your only chance to pretend she wanted you the way you wanted her.

You weren’t given the chance to make the choice for yourself.

A knock on the sounded on your bedroom door once again. You flung on a shirt, covering up as best you could while in the middle of changing out of your work clothes. Pulling open the door, you looked down, finding yourself in one of the lacy camisoles you’d been trying on last weekend when going out with friends for a drink. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to contain the groan you wanted to release. When you opened your eyes it was to find a smirk and sparkling green eyes turned in your direction.

“I was coming to offer you a glass of wine but it looks like you might be going out,” she said.

Her eyes swept down your body and if you were a betting person, you thought her gaze might have lingered on the cleavage on display. You found your back arching, just a moment, until her eyes swept back to yours and her smirk only deepened.

“Come on down, hon. You ain’t going anywhere in those sweat pants,” she said.

“I’ll take that wine,” you said, needing to drown your embarrassment in something.

You trailed behind her down the stairs into the kitchen. It truly was the heart of the home in Melissa’s house. You hoisted yourself onto a bench as she poured the wine. As she’d pointed out, there was no chance you were about to head out in the sweats you were wearing, even if the lacy cami on the top was more dressed up than was normal for slouching around the house on a Friday night.

When she turned back around, her eyes seemed to light up. She sauntered towards you, both hands holding glasses of red wine. Offering you one, she drew closer. You took a deep drink, needing it more and more as she took another step closer to you. Her thumb came up, running along your lower lip, wiping away a drop of wine before she sucked it into her mouth, maintaining eye contact with you.

“Mel.” You felt as if you’d woken up into a dream, breathless and unsure of what you could do.

“Yes, hon?” Her voice had turned so husky you weren’t sure you were existing in real life anymore.

When you didn’t reply she took one last step forward, right between your thighs. One hand ran up your leg making fire lick through your veins and your cheeks heat under her gaze. Her lips ticked up into a smirk again, seeming to enjoy the trouble you were having at forming a sentence.

“What are you doing?” you finally managed to get out in a whisper.

“Aren’t you enjoying it?” she asked.

“I don’t…” It came out strangled, “Mel, please.”

“I’m trying to seduce you, hon,” she said, “is it working?”

You nodded, not sure you were capable of forming words. Just the thought she was trying to seduce was enough to send you into a coma. You hadn’t thought she would ever look at you the way you looked at her.

“C’mon, hon. You can do better than that. Say it.”

“It’s working,” you whispered, not sure you could deny her anything in this moment.

“Good girl.”

She drew ever closer, breath ghosting over your lips. You froze, eyes fluttering shut, waiting to see what she was going to do. A brush of lips, a soft sigh, fingers clenching around your thigh. You barely had the chance to enjoy it before she was stepping back from you. The whimper that came from you was embarrassing but the look on her face when you opened your eyes was smug.

“Mel,” you said again, not sure there were any words other than her anymore.

“Do you know the hell you’ve put me through since moving in? You’re so fucking hot and I don’t think you even know it. You’re the exact woman my Nonna warned my cousin Vinny about,” she said, almost groaning.

“I haven’t been doing anything,” you said, addressing the only thing you could.

“Parading around in your tight leggings and these little tops and those fucking shorts in the morning. And when you’re thinking about something your tongue pokes out and then all I can think about is reaching over and kissing you. Also did you know you hum to yourself when you think no one’s around. Fuck, when I see you in the kitchen humming and dancing I just want to pin you to the closest surface and fuck you until you can’t do anything but say my name.”

You weren’t sure you had a good response.

“Yeah but you wear tight trousers pretty much every day at work,” was your only come back.

“But you weren’t looking at me in them and thinking what it would feel like to have my legs wrapped around you,” she replied as if it was the most natural answer in the world.

“I fucking was,” you snapped, at the end of your rope. She’d been playing with you long enough, “christ sake, Mel. I’ve been thinking about you since the first time we met. You’re literally the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. I didn’t think you were interested.”

“Hon, I let you move into my house. What part of that says I’m not interested?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” you said, sounding angrier than you expected, “you might have just been trying to be a good friend.”

“Then let me be very clear.” She took a step back between your legs again, “I am very interested in you.”

You legs tightened around her hips, holding her in place as you lent forward. Your lips ghosted over hers and you were surprised by the noise that came from her. It was whiny and needy and she was straining towards you. You chuckled, drawing back.

“If you plan on seducing me, I expect to be wined and dined,” you said, “no more fooling around until you put some effort in and prove I’m worth it.”

“You fucking brat,” she laughed, a hand curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer.

She kissed you deeply, tongue licking into your mouth, sending your thoughts spiralling away from you. Your knees tightened on her hips, your hands cupping her cheeks, indulging her for long enough to let her think she’d gotten her way. You nipped at her lower lip before drawing away.

“Wining and dining, Mel. I’m not some common whore,” you said, “I deserve romance.”

“There’s your wine,” she said, shoving the glass back into your hands, “I’ll make a start on dinner.”

You bit down on your lip, watching her slam down a knife on the cutting board, grumbling under her breath, trying to hold in a grin. The glare she gave you broke the flood gates as giggles tumbled from your lips.

“You keep on like this and I’ll stop seducing you,” she threatened.

“You stop and I’ll wear those shorts you like all weekend,” you retaliated.

You caught her arm, drawing her in for another kiss, just enough to remind her what was waiting. She softened, gently squeezing your leg before going back to cooking. You watched her, finding yourself falling more and more for her, the anticipation delicious, the woman beautiful.

And maybe moving into her home was the best thing to ever happen to you.

[dreaming-medium]

White Nail Polish

Pairing: I.N x reader

Genre: pure fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: Every Sunday when Yang Jeongin comes home to your shared apartment, there you’ll be, in your corner seat on the couch, painting your nails the same white color. But today, when he steps inside, you’re not there.

——————————————————————-

You always painted your nails yourself.

“It’s easier!” You would tell Jeongin with a bubbly smile. “Plus, it’s so nice to take some time to pamper myself. And I get to save money.”

It was a simple tradition he’s come to look forward to.

Every Sunday, when Jeongin walked in the door to your shared apartment and the smell of acetone smacked him in the face, he would always smile.

There you would be, on your designated corner seat on the couch, in your coziest, oversized hoodie, a fresh clay face mask on your face with your hair held back by a fuzzy headband.

The same fuzzy headband he stuck in your Christmas stocking last year.

You’d only just be finishing taking the last coat off your nails by the time he got home.

Without fail, Jeongin would walk in and immediately open the window to air out the chemical smell. He would then lecture you about fumes and how dangerous it was to be inhaling them.

Then, you would giggle and ask him to sit with you. He would do so without any fuss and a happy tingle in his chest.

Both of you would talk and watch TV until it was time for bed.

Sundays were his new favorite days.

The roommate line of your relationship was quickly crossed with how you were as a person, your overly friendly nature couldn’t keep you apart for long. After living together for two years now, Jeongin would easily proclaim you as one of his best friends.

His life was always changing, nothing was ever the same; nothing except for you and your white nail polish.

So, when he opened the door and was met with only the smell of a burning candle, Jeongin frowned.

The living room was dark. The TV wasn’t on. The entire apartment was standing still.

Not even a fresh pot of coffee was sitting on the counter.

You were home, though. Your shoes were by the door and your keys were hanging on the hook.

Never once have you missed a ‘Self Care Sunday’ as you coined them.

Even when you had the flu, you made sure to paint your pretty nails.

The door shut behind him, the click of the lock was as hollow as the apartment felt.

Jeongin kicked his shoes off and made his way down the hall, tossing his bag in his room before walking across the hall to stand in front of your closed door. The soft glow of your fairy lights shined from the crack underneath the wood.

There’s soft sounds coming from inside, it sounds like you’re watching videos on your phone.

He knocks a few times, you hum for him to come in.

Jeongin pushes the door open gently, his head peeking in first before his body.

You’re a lump of blankets on top of the bed. If he looked quickly, he might not have realized that it was you underneath all the blankets and pillows.

“Y/N?” he asks quietly, stepping inside slowly.

Your eyes look at him, they seem… dull. When you see his face, you lock your phone and place it down on your bed.

Again, you only hum.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asks. Jeongin walks towards the bed and sits on the edge. “You’ve never missed a Sunday before.”

You shrug— or at least, he thinks it’s a shrug, all Jeongin’s able to see is the lump of blankets move around.

His eyebrows pull together and he purses his lip. “What’s going on?”

You look away from him. “Just… life weighing down extra today. Exams, job, finding an internship, life, everything.”

Every day you were bubbly. Not a moment went by where you didn’t have a varying degree of a smile on your face. Some people had a resting bitch face, you had a resting happy face.

The corners of your lips were perpetually upturned.

Seeing you now, like this, a sad lump of fleece, pulled at Jeongin’s heartstrings.

You reach one hand out from under the blankets and place it gently on top of his. “Sorry for being all meh,” you huff a humorless laugh through your nose. “I’ll be fine tomorrow. I think I need to be a bedbug today.”

Jeongin thinks for a moment, he looks around your room to your desk. Everything that you usually use on Sundays is there on top.

He flips his hand around and picks yours up, bringing it closer to his face. Cocking his head to the side, he peers down at your nails, making sure to exaggerate how much he’s judging the chipped polish.

“No, no,” he says, clicking his tongue. “This won’t do at all.”

“Jeongin—“

“Nope, look at this.” He holds your hand up for you to see. “How unprofessional. We have to take care of this.”

You roll your eyes. And it doesn’t slip past Jeongin’s watchful eye that your lips twitch in a smile.

“I just don’t feel like it right now,” you whine.

“That’s fine, I’ll do it.”

Jeongin pulls on your arm to yank you out of the blanket pile.

You blink a few times and allow him to sit you up on the bed. A large, stretched out t-shirt hung off your shoulder, your hair sticks up in different directions.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes.

“I’ll paint your nails, come on. Free of charge.”

Jeongin stands up from the bed and holds his hand out for you. You just blink at him over and over.

“You’re going to paint my nails?” The question ends with an incredulous laugh.

Rolling his eyes, Jeongin thrusts his hand out for you to take again. “Yes, I’m going to paint your nails, what’s so odd about that?”

“Have you ever painted your nails before?”

“No, but I watch you do it every week. How hard could it be?”

Your face scrunches up but a small twinkle returns to your eyes. It doesn’t slip past Jeongin.

Deciding that you’re taking too long, Jeongin leans down and picks you up over his shoulder.

A loud squeal comes from your throat that dissolves into giggles. His heart lights up at the sound— it always has.

Even on his worst days, hearing your laughter was like sitting in front of a fireplace during a snowstorm. When he’s sick, he swears he doesn’t need medicine, he just needs to sit near you.

He can still remember one night where he was at his wit’s end, everything that could go wrong, did. He was so overstimulated and angry at everything that he could scream and cry at the same time.

But then, your laughter pierced through the gray clouds of his mind. Your fit of giggles traveled through your door and into his room, they were so muffled but uncontrolled.

Slowly, they dissolved into cackles. Breathless wheezes and snorts that made him smile without knowing what you’re looking at.

You had one of those laughs that was so contagious, especially to him.

There was a bit of shuffling, a door opened, and then you came through his with one of the happiest smiles he’s ever seen. Tears coming down your red face from laughing so hard.

“You have to see this!” you wheezed out.

What was it? A video of a duck sitting on top of a water park geyser, when the water jet activated, the duck went flying.

It wasn’t even that funny. But hearing your angelic laughter made it hilarious.

Suddenly, his day wasn’t so bad anymore. He couldn’t even remember what he was mad about.

That’s the friendship you both have always carried on with.

A shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, an arm to grab when you’re laughing too hard, an extra coffee to bring home, a constant reminder to refill the Brita. It gets deeper and deeper every day.

Jeongin unceremoniously plops you into your corner seat and you let out an ‘ooof!’

He points down at your face. “Stay.”

“I’m not a dog!” You laugh nonetheless while Jeongin’s lithe form disappears down the hallway again.

You look down at your nails. They desperately needed to be done. After studying for hours on end while chewing on your nails, typing on your laptop, and picking nervously at them, there’s barely any polish left.

Truly, you were just going to wait until tomorrow— but if Jeongin was offering, who were you to turn it down?

He comes back out into the living room with everything you typically used. You honestly never noticed how much he paid attention to your pampering.

Setting everything down on the table, he sits cross legged on the seat next to yours and clicks the TV on. A random Christmas movie plays in the background.

He grabs the remover and a cotton pad and goes to work. All the motions look so natural after he grabs your first hand; like he’s the one that does this every Sunday, not you.

The two of you are facing one another, knees practically touching. He’s so gentle when he works.

The chemical burning smell of acetone makes him scrunch his nose up.

“Aren’t you going to open the windows?” you tease.

He grins. “In a minute. The smell has to permeate the house first.”

“And here I thought you hated the smell.”

“I do,” he wipes off polish and goes to the next finger. “But it’s just … something that’s grown on me.”

“Acetone?”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “Strangely enough. I hate it, but I love it.”

He switches to the next hand.

The Christmas movie continues to play, it’s a classic one with Korean translated subtitles at the bottom of the screen. It’s weird hearing English come out of the TV.

Jeongin’s been trying extra hard with English since you moved in. With you being from America, it was like having a live-in tutor.

“I … need remote, please.” He asked in a slow, calculated tone.

“You need the remote,” you corrected him, holding it out of his reach.

“I need the remote.”

“Why?”

“Change channel.”

“Change the channel.”

“Oh my god.”

Your attention goes back to Jeongin. He’s wiping the last of the nail polish off your fingers.

He’s been your rock these last two years. And you’ve been his.

Neither of you really enjoy having emotional conversations or talking about your feelings, you both prefer to stay quiet about it. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need some form of support.

That’s how you two work out so well. When one needs help, the other is there with jokes or food or a movie ready to watch.

Or in this case, nail polish ready to be applied.

With a huff, he stands up from the couch and pushes open one of the windows. He fans his hand in front of his face just to be extra dramatic.

Rolling your eyes, you poke him in the side when he sits back down on the couch.

You were expecting him to put the paint on right away afterwards, so imagine your surprise when he picks up the small pair of clippers.

With a raised eyebrow, you take your hand away a little. His grip tightens and his head snaps up to look at you with a mock-offended expression.

“Nuh-uh!” you tease. “You’re gunna give me man nails!”

“I will not!” he jests back. “I will clip your nails exactly how you usually do it!”

Your eyes narrow, he mirrors it.

You jut out your bottom lip, he mirrors it.

You slowly turn your head to the side to side-eye him, he mirrors it.

“I'm trusting you, Yang Jeongin. Christmas is next week. I don’t want man hands.”

He scoffs and looks back down at your hand. “I have rough news, Y/N.”

You balk and rip your hand away from him and then usher a swift smack to his bicep.

The two of you giggle the more you smack him around playfully.

“I do not have man hands!” you yell.

He laughs with you, holding his arms up to shield himself. “Okay, okay! Fine! You have beautiful womanly hands! Enough!”

You stop smacking him. “That’s more like it.”

With that adorable smile, Jeongin reaches forward and grabs your hand once again.

“One set of ridiculously short nails coming up.”

“I’ll poison your coffee tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, Yang.”

He snickers once more and then starts cutting your nails in small, little snips.

Jeongin just trims them a bit— he does a perfect job if you’re being completely honest. You preferred them a little longer anyway.

When he picks the nail file up, you’re less wary.

He files your nails down a little more, rounding off the edges just how you like.

“How was rehearsal?” you ask quietly.

“Are we gossiping now? Is this what it’s like getting your nails done at a salon?”

You chuckle. “Yes, now tell me all about it.”

“It was good, I had vocal training after, so it was a long day.”

“What does your day look like tomorrow?”

“Nothing tomorrow. But Tuesday we leave for Japan until Thursday.”

You hum, watching him file your nails. “Nervous?”

“Always. It’s never gone away.”

You giggle. “I think if you weren’t nervous, you would have too big of a head.”

“Or I would be Minho.”

Then, simultaneously, you both go: “Same thing.” And then break into a fit of laughter.

He files your one pinky finger and looks down at both of your hands at once.

“How’s that shape look?”

You bring them up closer for you to look at. They all look even and perfect.

How is he doing this?

“I think you should open a salon,” you tell him, still inspecting your nails.

“Ah, yes, let me abandon my idol lifestyle to be a nail tech.”

Jeongin grabs your one hand and files a little notch off that you didn’t see.

Again, you giggle.

He puts the nail file down and picks up the bottle of white polish you use every week. He shakes it around just like you do, hitting it against the heel of his palm.

Holding his hand out, you put yours in his.

“If you couldn’t be an idol, what would you do?” you ask suddenly.

Jeongin doesn’t even pause, but you can see he’s thinking about your question as he unscrews the bottle. The excess on the brush is swiped on the neck.

“Hmm,” he weighs your question. “I don’t know, really. I love singing so much.”

Jeongin grabs your one finger and swipes the polish over your nail.

“You could be a lounge singer,” you tease. “Singing in those fancy, swanky nightclubs at the piano.”

“Would I have a tip jar on top?”

“Oh, of course. It would be overflowing from all the women who fall in love with you every night.”

His cheeks heat up from the compliment, moving from nail to nail with the first coat.

“Don’t say things like that,” he mumbles.

You snicker. “Sorry, but all the old ladies would be head over heels for you. They’d empty their wallets into your tip jar and you would smile and wink at them with those dimples.”

With your free hand, you poke at his face. Jeongin swats at your hand with a whine.

“I’ll mess up your nails on purpose!” he threatens.

Still laughing, you take your hand away from his face. He switches to the second hand. You blow on the first one.

“Okay, your turn: why white?” He asks, paying attention to his careful brush strokes.

“The color?”

He hums an ‘mhmm’.

You smile down at the color on your first hand he did, admiring the way the white looks.

“I think it’s pretty,” you tell him.

“That’s all?”

You snort. “Does there need to be another reason?”

“No, I guess not.” He moves from finger to finger.

“It makes me feel a little extra beautiful. I can’t explain it, but having my nails painted white feels so pretty.”

His own smile is warm and happy. His cheeks scrunch up and the small blush of pink that sits on them make your stomach dance.

You’ve never really needed anything else like you’ve needed his presence— nor have you craved anything similar.

Jeongin is Jeongin. He’s simple and everything you could ever ask for.

“My turn again; if you could change one decision you’ve made in the last five years, what would it be?”

Jeongin whistles and finishes the first coat on your hands. “That’s a heavy question, Y/N.”

You continue to blow on your nails. “Well, I figured we were getting deeper and deeper.”

“I asked you why you liked white nail polish!”

“And I asked you to take a deep dive into your regrets, I think these are pretty similar.”

“Is it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Jeongin grabs the first hand he was working on and takes a look at the polish. “How long does it take to dry?”

“It’s a special gel polish, so ten minutes between coats.”

“How long do you think it’s been?”

“Maybe five?”

He nods and turns to look at the TV. His eyes scan over the subtitles at the bottom to understand what’s happening.

But you don’t look at the TV, you continue to stare at him.

Jeongin’s boyish charm never seems to go away no matter what. Even after all the soft lines of his face turned into hard ones, that teasing happiness is still there.

When you became roommates two years ago it was because you desperately needed a place to stay and he just as direly needed someone to pay the other half of the rent.

A match made in Heaven.

He continued to be an idol and you continued college.

When you first moved in, Jeongin told you that if you wanted more privacy, to let him know, that he was more than content to leave communal spaces to you.

You looked him in the eye and asked, “What if I wanted to hang out with you?”

Neither of you have looked back.

You needed a friend and he needed someone who wasn’t in his group. The boys can only do so much for his sanity.

Sometimes he just needs to come home to acetone and fresh coffee.

Scrunching your nose, you look down at your first hand and poke at the first coat. When your fingerprint doesn’t show up, you hold it out to Jeongin.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He looks back at you, then down at your hand and takes it. God, his hands are so soft.

“It’s too heavy of a question,” he whines.

“I wanna know the answer, though.”

He applies the second coat to a nail.

“I mean, I regret having to wear some of the outfits they had us in before and right after debuting.”

You laugh, it’s a cackle. Jeongin cracks a smile— it feels like a victory in his head.

“Okay, but I mean a real regret. Something you had control over.”

He stops painting your nails and thinks. His lip pulls between his teeth and his eyebrows pull together. Jeongin’s eyes flit around while his brain reels.

After a few seconds, he shakes his head and looks up at you. “I really can’t think of anything, Y/N.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope.”

“Not even me moving in?”

His eyes glisten and soften considerably when he hears you say that. The corners of his lips twitch and his heart stutters in his chest a bit.

It feels like cotton is shoved into his mouth while he looks at you. Your hair is still frizzy and everywhere, bare faced with sleepy bags under your eyes, pajamas from this morning still on.

If there was one decision that he was sure he made the best choice of in the past five years, it was you.

“No,” he says with a twinkly smile. “Not even that.”

His demeanor catches you off guard, but you don’t let it show too much.

Jeongin looks at you for a few more seconds before looking down to switch hands.

“My turn again. If you could do anything for a living, what would you do?” he questions while carefully painting.

“Oh, easy. Actress.”

Surprised, he looks back up at your face. “Really?”

“Yeah! I was doing a lot of acting back in America, just local stuff. But when it came time for college, I gave it up.” Your eyes shine sadly. “I was pretty good too, but it’s just one of those careers that have too much uncertainty.”

“Like being an idol.”

“Exactly.” You swallow thickly. “So I went for the secure route.”

Jeongin focuses down on your nails again.

You keep talking. “Besides, I get to live through you.”

His painting stutters, but he continues nonetheless. “What do you mean?”

“You come home with these fun stories of being famous, all the people you get to meet, the countries you get to see. You get to wear Alexander McQueen for God’s sake.”

He blushes, and paints the second coat on your pinky finger.

“Jeongin, your life is so cool. You get to fly to Japan on Tuesday, and you said it like it was just a regular commute. That’s … that’s amazing, you know?”

“It’s not all like that.” He inspects each nail, making sure nothing got messed up.

“I know. There’s crazy fans and all the blood, sweat, and tears.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes. “‘Crazy’ isn’t even a good enough word to describe some of them.”

You laugh.

The TV continues to play.

“But you get to do what you love,” you whisper to him through a thick voice.

Jeongin looks at you closely. There’s unshed tears welling up in your eyes. His heart sinks.

Swallowing, your eyes drop to the couch.

“I gave up on that dream a while ago.” You take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. “So I decided to live vicariously through you and your fun stories.”

You shrug and roll your eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Your lip quivers.

With your hands still in his, Jeongin threads your fingers together and holds your hands up between you two.

He says nothing.

He doesn’t know what to say.

What can he say in this situation?

You don’t need him to say anything, though. You never have. The fact that he’s there is enough.

“Maybe that’s why we workout so well as roommates,” you say, “no one would suspect a normal girl, with a boring 9-5 would be living with idol superstar I.N from Stray Kids.” Humor was always your coping mechanism.

Letting out a deep breath towards the ceiling, you look back down at him, hands still intertwined.

“Thanks for letting me mooch off your life stories.”

Jeongin chuckles. “Anytime.” He pauses. “For the record, I don’t think your life is boring.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

He nods enthusiastically. “You did that research study about traffic safety last month, I thought it was really interesting.”

An unbelieving laugh leaves your chest. “You don’t need to lie.”

He squeezes your hands. “No, really! You’re studying so hard to be an analyst. You sat outside in the freezing cold for days and days and days watching the crosswalk of a busy road just to collect data.”

It’s true, you did do that. Jeongin also stopped by about once every other hour to give you a hot beverage or food.

If he noticed you were getting cold, the next trip consisted of extra jackets and blankets.

The things you do for research.

“After your findings were submitted, the city started the process to add more crosswalks to busy streets. You’re like a superhero.”

You stare at him for a second before bursting out in laughter. “What a lame superhero!”

Your cackles, like always, are contagious. He can’t fight his own giggles bubbling to the surface in his heart.

Before he knows it, Jeongin is laughing with you.

“I’m Captain Statistics! I beat the odds no matter what!”

He laughs even harder at your pun.

The two of you are giggling so much, your bodies falling forward on the couch, hunched over in a fit of laughter.

But, your hands stay intertwined.

Eventually, the laughter dies down.

Jeongin squeezes your hands once more and flips them around to look at your nails.

“I think it’s time for the top coat, Captain Statistics.”

You look at your hands and test the polish. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He switches the white bottle out for the clear coat. Repeating the shaking process and grabbing your hand.

The top coat goes on much quicker than the white polish does.

“Thank you for this, Jeongin,” you say quietly.

The smile that grows on his face reminds you of those timelapse videos of flowers growing in the Spring. It takes up the entirety of his face— and your heart.

“Of course, Y/N. Happy to do it.”

He moves to the other hand. You blow on the first one.

It’s the truth, he was happy to do it. He’d do it again if you asked him to. Jeongin would happily paint your nails every Sunday for the rest of your lives if you wanted.

Words sit in his mouth, words that he’s wanted to say for months now, words that would change the entirety of your relationship.

They’re so heavy on his tongue.

Jeongin can practically feel them tumbling out. He has to clench his jaw from keeping his confession to himself.

How much longer until he explodes? You can only shake a soda bottle too much before everything comes out the top.

God, he loves you so much.

You say it to him all the time, you say it to everyone so often.

“I love you” is said all the time by you. It’s as easy as breathing for you.

He asked you about it once, why do you say it so much? Your answer?

“People need to know when they’re loved. I will happily be that person that reminds them.”

As if he couldn’t love you more already. You’re just a light, a star, a sun.

Yes.

You’re his sun. The center of his galaxy. Everything revolves around you, he gravitates to you. He can’t help but bask in your warmth every single day.

The last of the top coat is painted delicately. They’re done.

“Finished,” he says quietly.

Your smile lights up the room.

“God, you’re the best, Jeongin,” you say, admiring his handiwork. “Thank you so much!”

He mirrors your smile and starts putting everything away. “Anytime, Y/N.”

Jeongin screws the lids tighter on the polish and acetone. A car honks outside. The TV plays on. The heat kicks on. You blow on your nails.

“I’ll miss you this week,” you tell him casually.

He looks over at you, folding his long legs up on the couch again.

“Really?”

“I always miss you, Jeongin. The apartment feels colder when you’re gone.”

He studies your face for a long stretch of time.

You’re too busy smiling at your nails to notice.

He can’t take it anymore.

“I lied to you,” he says suddenly. You look at him, slightly alarmed.

“What?” you ask.

“I lied— when I said I had no regrets, I lied.”

Your face scrunches up. “Why?”

He swallows nervously. “Close your eyes and I’ll tell you.”

You eye him curiously for a few more seconds before your eyes slide shut.

Jeongin’s heart rate picks up exponentially. It’s going to explode at this rate.

He leans forward towards your face, you’re so perfect. How are you so perfect?

He hesitates.

But, he swallows his nerves and swoops in the rest of the way, pressing his lips to yours delicately. Your body jolts, but you don’t move away from him.

It’s no more than a long peck. Electricity shoots through his body anyway.

A shock goes from his heart to his toes. He can barely feel his fingers.

You’re so magical. How do you do this?

Jeongin pulls away slowly, brushing your noses together and letting your shaky exhales mingle with one another.

He can’t open his eyes. He’s so worried that if he does, he’ll see rejection and disdain in your beautiful eyes.

You’re the first one to speak through the thick silence.

“I fail to see how that is a regret,” you whisper.

He laughs. Like always, you get him to laugh. He rests his forehead on yours.

“I regret not doing it sooner.” His long fingers come up to cup your one cheek.

You hum and lean into his touch.

Validation courses through his veins. It’s taking everything in his body not to jump for joy.

All he wants to do is stand up and scream, pump his fist in the air and claim victory.

Before he could do any of that, you lean forward and kiss him again.

Your top lip slots between his, his bottom in between both of yours.

A sigh of relief leaves his nose, his other arm wraps around your shoulders to bring you even closer. He can’t get you close enough to his body.

Closer, closer, closer.

Please, he needs you to be as close as possible.

He pulls back from the first kiss just to press another one to your lips.

Again, and again, and again— he pulls away just to swoop back in.

It’s never enough.

It’s like drinking water after you’ve been parched all day. He never knew he was crawling through a desert until now.

“Jeongin,” you giggle through his frantic kisses.

He grunts in response and continues to kiss you more. Why can’t he get enough?

He’s resigned himself to his fate. He’ll need to kiss you forever until the world ends.

“Jeongin,” you say again, still laughing.

How has he gone this long without your kisses? It’s madness.

Finally, you pull back. He dives in for another kiss, you turn your head with a brilliant smile, his lips meet your cheek.

Eh, that’ll do.

Over and over again he pecks your cheek. Laugh after laugh comes from you.

“My nails!” you finally call out. “You’re going to ruin them!”

His hand turns your face to look at him. “I’ll do them again. I’ll do them again and again, just please let me kiss you.”

Unable to take it any longer, you throw your arms around his neck and smash your lips together.

You pull him down onto the sofa with you, kiss after kiss being shared between the two of you.

How was he supposed to go to Japan now?

————————————————————————

(A/N: yes, the duck video exists. You can see it here. The first time I saw it I laughed so hard my housemate came in to check on me.)