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julietsf1 · 4 days ago

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The Idiot I Call Mine - Lando Norris x BestFriend! Reader

summary: best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently. (7.1k words)

content: fluff! friends to lovers; flirty dynamic; mutual pining

an: whaaat? a fic about another driver? yes loves. this is me coming forward as a secret Lando fan. I hope you'll enjoy as much as I did writing this :)

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Lando Norris has this annoying habit of always being right. It’s not even about anything important—it’s just little things. Like the time he guessed exactly how long it would take before I caved and ordered dessert, or when he said I’d end up watching a rom-com tonight even though I claimed I wanted “something deep and meaningful.”

“See?” he said smugly, leaning back on the couch as the opening credits of The Holiday played. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Hardly,” I shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You just know I have a weak spot for Jude Law. That doesn’t make you psychic.”

“No, but it does make me an excellent best friend.” He winked, plucking the popcorn off his lap and popping it into his mouth like the show-off he was.

I rolled my eyes, pretending I wasn’t fighting a grin. Lando and I had been inseparable for years, the kind of best friends who finished each other’s sentences and shared a borderline unhealthy obsession with late-night McDonald’s runs. But lately, something had been… different.

Not bad, exactly. Just different. Maybe? I wasn’t even sure to be honest.

“You’re staring again,” Lando said, breaking into my thoughts. He was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest in a way that felt entirely too casual and yet completely deliberate. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, and his smirk was the kind that could make even the most confident person question their sanity.

“I wasn’t staring,” I lied, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in my mouth for good measure.

“You were absolutely staring,” he teased, leaning closer. “What’s on your mind, hmm? Thinking about how devastatingly handsome I am? It’s okay—you can admit it.”

“You’re such a joke,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably. “Devastatingly handsome? Please. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin. “And yet, here you are, spending your Friday night with me. Interesting choice.”

“I’m here for the popcorn,” I deadpanned, though even I didn’t believe myself. “And because you begged me.”

“I didn’t beg,” he protested. “I suggested strongly. There’s a difference.”

This was us—lighthearted insults, jokes at each other’s expense, and an ease in our conversations that felt like home. If there was something different lately, I told myself it was just my imagination running wild.

“Speaking of choices,” I said, leaning back against the couch. “What’s the deal with you and your phone wallpaper?”

“What about it?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on, Lando,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You really expect me to believe you just happened to pick a picture of me for your wallpaper?”

“It’s a great photo,” he said with a shrug. “You look happy. And let’s not pretend your wallpaper isn’t me.”

I froze, caught. He was right—my wallpaper was him, but that wasn’t the point.

“That’s different,” I said quickly. “You look stupid in yours. It’s funny.”

“Ah, so I’m your personal clown now?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock offense. “Good to know my humiliation brings you joy.”

“Always,” I said sweetly, tossing another piece of popcorn his way.

The movie played on in the background, but neither of us was really paying attention. We were too busy pushing each other’s buttons, like always.

“Hey,” Lando said after a while, his tone a little softer. “You’re coming to dinner at Mum’s next weekend, right?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “She’s already planning the menu. Something with pasta, probably. You know how she gets when you’re coming over.”

I smiled despite myself. His family had always treated me like one of their own, and his mum had a knack for making me feel special in ways that were both comforting and overwhelming.

“Well, in that case,” I said, pretending to think it over. “I guess I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “I’d be bored without you there.”

It was moments like this—simple and familiar—that stuck with me longer than they should. The way he said things so casually, as if they didn’t carry any weight, even when they somehow did.

“You’ve got something on your face,” I said suddenly, trying to distract myself.

“Where?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Right there,” I said, tapping the corner of my mouth.

He smirked, deliberately licking the spot where I’d pointed. “Better?”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” I said, shoving him away. But I was laughing, and so was he.

“You love it,” he said, and for once, I didn’t argue. Because maybe I did.

As the night went on, the teasing continued, each remark more loaded than the last. By the time the credits rolled, I wasn’t sure if it was the movie or Lando’s lingering glances that had me feeling so off-kilter.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he said, breaking the silence as he stood to clean up the popcorn bowl. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking,” I said vaguely, not meeting his gaze.

“About?” he pressed, leaning against the counter with a smirk that said he already knew the answer.

“Nothing important,” I said, grabbing my phone and pretending to scroll.

“Liar,” he said, his voice playful but probing. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know that?”

I glanced up at him, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had been doing lately. He was standing there like he had all the time in the world, his green eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Goodnight, Lando,” I said finally, brushing past him on my way to the couch.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

…

“You know, for someone who claims to be an athlete, you spend an alarming amount of time eating,” I said, glancing at Lando over the top of my menu.

“Carbs are fuel,” he replied, flashing me a grin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand that we could’ve gone somewhere normal instead of whatever this place is,” I said, gesturing to the overly fancy restaurant. The kind of place where the wine glasses sparkled brighter than the chandeliers, and the menu was full of words I couldn’t pronounce.

“You’re so ungrateful,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how hard it was to get a table here? I had to name-drop myself.”

“Wow,” I said dryly. “The struggle.”

“Exactly. And now you’re here, about to enjoy the finest pasta in town, thanks to me. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“Gratitude? You dragged me here under false pretenses. You said this was a ‘low-key spot.’”

“It is low-key,” he argued, gesturing around. “For Monte Carlo standards.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my face. This was just how things were with Lando—effortless, easy, and borderline ridiculous.

“Alright, what are you getting?” Lando asked, lowering his menu.

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” I said without hesitation.

“Of course you are,” he said, smirking. “Predictable.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I shot back. “What are you getting, then? Something groundbreaking? Life-changing? Revolutionary?”

“Tagliatelle al tartufo,” he said with a mockingly posh accent.

“Wow,” I said, feigning awe. “Truffle pasta. You’re really pushing the boundaries, Norris.”

“Don’t be jealous just because I have sophisticated taste,” he replied, the smirk never leaving his face.

“‘Sophisticated’ is one way to put it,” I muttered, pretending to study the menu again. “Another is ‘pretentious.’”

“You’ll be begging for a bite,” he said confidently, setting the menu down.

“Please,” I said, scoffing. “You’ll be stealing mine before the plates even hit the table.”

He leaned forward, his grin widening. “You know me so well.”

The food arrived soon after, and, as predicted, we switched plates halfway through without even discussing it. It was second nature by now, like so many other things about us.

“You know,” Lando said, twirling a forkful of fettuccine, “if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out, I could be a food critic.”

“Sure,” I said, deadpan. “Because people are dying to know what Lando Norris thinks about pasta.”

“They would be,” he said, undeterred. “My palate is unparalleled.”

“Your palate consists of pizza, chicken nuggets, and whatever I’m eating,” I shot back.

“And yet, here we are,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Me, enjoying this culinary masterpiece, and you, enjoying my company. Life is good.”

It was shaping up to be another night of easy conversation and mindless teasing until a voice interrupted us.

“Lando?”

I looked up to see two women standing at the edge of our table. They were both tall, blonde, and effortlessly elegant, the kind of women who looked like they belonged in a magazine spread rather than real life.

“Oh, hey!” Lando said, his face lighting up in recognition.

I glanced at him, watching as his entire demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He straightened up, his grin widening just enough to make my stomach twist.

“We haven’t seen you in forever,” one of the women said, her smile bright and practiced.

“I know,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “It’s been a while.”

“You look great,” one of them said, her smile bright as she leaned in a little too close.

“So do you,” Lando replied, his tone polite but just warm enough to make me suddenly very interested in my water glass. The conversation floated around me, full of laughter and inside jokes I didn’t understand.

“And who’s this?” one of them finally asked, her gaze flicking to me with polite curiosity.

“This is Y/N,” Lando said, gesturing toward me with a casualness that felt too deliberate. “My best friend.”

Best friend. There it was again.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Likewise,” she replied, her tone perfectly pleasant.

They didn’t linger much longer—just enough to leave their mark before excusing themselves with a wave and a promise to “catch up soon.”

“Old friends of yours?” I asked once they were gone, my voice light but with a slight edge.

“Something like that,” Lando said, taking a sip of his water.

“Something like that?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “They’re sisters. I, uh… may have had a thing with both of them. At different times, obviously.”

My fork froze midair. “Both of them?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, laughing. “It’s not that weird.”

“It’s incredibly weird,” I said, shaking my head.

“I mean, it didn’t overlap or anything,” he added, as if that somehow made it better. “But yeah… sisters.”

I stared at him, equal parts amused and horrified. “That’s… impressive? I guess?”

“Thank you,” he said, grinning like he’d just been handed an award. “Think I should call them again?”

“Sure,” I forced a laugh, stabbing at my pasta. “And then ask if they have any other sisters you might’ve missed.”

He chuckled, clearly oblivious to the sarcasm in my tone. “Good idea. Always room for a hat trick.”

My stomach churned uncomfortably, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I focused on my plate, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way my mood had shifted.

…

The paddock was its usual chaotic self—teams rushing to prepare for practice sessions, fans peering over barriers for a glimpse of their favorite drivers, and media personnel darting between interviews. I decided to escape the madness for a bit, heading toward the staff catering building for a much-needed coffee.

The line was mercifully short, but as I joined it, I noticed someone already waiting near the front. Tall, dark-haired, and wearing a Ferrari polo with his name—Marco—stitched neatly on the chest. He turned slightly, catching my eye and offering a polite smile.

“Busy morning?” he asked, his tone warm and conversational.

“Something like that,” I replied with a small smile. “You?”

“Always,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But coffee makes it manageable, no?”

I nodded. “A universal truth.”

Marco stepped aside to let me order, a gesture so casual it almost went unnoticed. As I gave my order to the barista, I felt him glance at me again—not invasive, just curious.

“So, not Ferrari,” he said after I stepped back to wait for my coffee.

“Is it that obvious?” I joked.

“A little,” he admitted, his grin widening. “You’re far too relaxed to be one of us.”

“Should I be offended or flattered?” I asked, tilting my head playfully.

“Flattered,” he said easily. “Relaxed is a good thing.”

We fell into an easy rhythm as we waited. Marco was effortlessly charming, asking questions without prying and tossing in a few self-deprecating remarks about Ferrari’s chaos.

“You’re here with a team?” he asked eventually.

“A friend,” I said vaguely.

“Lucky friend,” he said, his tone light but genuine.

I laughed softly. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a familiar voice cut through the hum of conversation.

“There you are.”

I turned to see Lando approaching, his expression relaxed but his eyes sharper than usual.

“Hey,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were doing media.”

“Finished early,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flicked briefly to Marco, who stood quietly by my side. “And I figured I’d find you here.”

“Good instincts,” I said lightly, though something about his sudden appearance felt… deliberate.

Marco offered his hand to Lando, ever polite. “Marco. Ferrari engineering.”

“Lando,” he replied, shaking his hand. “McLaren driving.”

Marco chuckled. “I know who you are. Good to meet you.”

“You too,” Lando said, his tone friendly but with an edge I couldn’t quite place.

The barista called my name, and I turned to grab my coffee, giving them a moment to exchange polite words. By the time I returned, Marco was stepping away with his own drink.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, offering me a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Lando watched him go before turning back to me. “Who was that?”

“Marco,” I said simply.

“And what was Marco talking to you about?” he asked, his tone too casual to be entirely innocent.

I raised an eyebrow. “Coffee, mostly. Why?”

“No reason,” he said quickly, taking a sip of my drink.

I studied him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” he said defensively.

“You’re definitely acting weird.”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

“He was flirting,” Lando said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked. “He was being nice.”

“Nice,” Lando repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Lando, he’s just a guy who works for Ferrari,” I said, shaking my head.

“Exactly,” he said, as if that proved his point.

There was a beat of silence as I processed his words.

“You sound jealous,” I said finally, testing the waters.

“Jealous?” he scoffed, though the flicker of something in his eyes gave him away. “Hardly. I just think you can do way better than some guy who chats you up in the coffee line.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, smirking now.

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the warmth in my chest betrayed me.

We walked back toward the McLaren garage, his mood lightening with every step. By the time we arrived, he was back to his usual self—chatting with the mechanics and laughing at some joke I’d already missed.

But his words stayed with me, replaying in my mind as I sat down with my coffee. My coffee which Lando had somehow already drank half of.

…

The McLaren lounge was a rare oasis of calm in the chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled past the windows, radios crackled with updates, and somewhere in the distance, an engine roared to life. But in here, it was all plush couches, soft lighting, and a distinct lack of urgency.

I was curled up on one end of the couch, flipping through a magazine, while Oscar and Lando lounged on the other side. Lando, as usual, couldn’t sit still. He was draped sideways over the armrest, absently spinning a water bottle in his hands.

“Alright,” Lando announced, breaking the comfortable silence. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?”

I looked up from my magazine, narrowing my eyes. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s an important question,” he insisted, his grin wide and mischievous.

I pretended to ponder for a moment. “One horse-sized duck. Definitely.”

Lando gaped at me like I’d just declared something outrageous. “Terrible answer. Absolutely terrible.”

“It’s the smart answer,” I shot back, sitting up straighter. “You outmaneuver one big target instead of exhausting yourself trying to wrangle a hundred tiny ones.”

“Do you even know how terrifying a horse-sized duck would be?” Lando asked, his voice rising in mock disbelief.

“And do you know how terrifying a hundred duck-sized horses would be?” I countered, raising an eyebrow.

Lando leaned forward, his grin widening. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’d rather face one giant, angry duck with a wingspan bigger than this couch?”

“Absolutely,” I said confidently. “Ducks aren’t that scary.”

“They can bite, you know,” he shot back, gesturing dramatically. “One snap, and you’re done for.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “I think I’d survive. Besides, I have a secret weapon.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“You,” I said, deadpan. “I’ll just toss you in its path and run.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. “Wow. That’s cold, Y/N. I thought we were a team.”

“We are,” I said, grinning. “But only if you pick the right answer next time.”

For a moment, he was quiet, his grin faltering just slightly as he met my gaze. It wasn’t much, just a flicker of something softer beneath the banter. But it was enough to make my stomach do that annoying little flip I’d been trying to ignore.

“Lando,” Oscar interjected, his tone casual but pointed. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” Lando said quickly, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink as he looked away.

“You are,” Oscar said, leaning back with a smirk.

“You’re imagining things,” Lando muttered, crossing his arms.

Oscar snorted but didn’t press the issue, instead grabbing his phone and scrolling through it idly. But the look he shot Lando wasn’t lost on me—or Lando, for that matter.

As the banter settled into silence, I decided to grab a drink from the catering area, leaving the two of them alone.

The moment the door swung shut behind me, Oscar struck. “Mate, you’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“About what?” Lando asked, feigning innocence as he fidgeted with the water bottle.

Oscar didn’t even look up from his phone. “About Y/N.”

“What about her?”

Oscar set his phone down, leveling Lando with a knowing look. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy every time she’s around.”

Lando scoffed, though the tips of his ears betrayed him again. “That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” Oscar said, dragging out the word like he was savoring it. “That’s why you light up like a Christmas tree whenever she walks in the room.”

“I do not,” Lando said defensively, but his voice lacked conviction.

“You do,” Oscar replied, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “Mate, you’re glaring holes into the back of her head every time she talks to someone else. And don’t even get me started on how you were watching her during the duck-and-horse debate like she’d just solved world peace.”

“That’s—” Lando started, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Right,” Oscar said, his smirk firmly in place. “It’s exactly like that, but go off.”

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly searching for the right words. “It’s… we’ve known each other forever. It’s Y/N.”

Oscar nodded, as if that made sense, but his smirk didn’t waver. “Don’t you think it would be time to change that soon? You two are exhausting.”

Lando shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it.

“I’m just saying,” Oscar said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re completely gone for her. Admit it already.”

Lando groaned, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, grinning now. “But I’m right.”

Lando didn’t respond, his gaze drifting to the door where I’d just left. And for the first time, he let himself wonder if maybe—just maybe—Oscar was onto something.

…

The moment we walked into George’s celebration, the energy hit like a wave. The room was packed with familiar faces—drivers, engineers, and friends—dressed to the nines in that effortless way people in motorsport always seemed to manage. String lights twinkled across the ceiling, soft jazz played over the speakers, and a steady hum of conversation filled the air.

“You’re going to owe me for this,” I teased, glancing at Lando. “Dragging me here after wasting twenty minutes deciding between two identical shirts.”

“They weren’t identical,” Lando replied with a roll of his eyes, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we weaved through the crowd. “One had a darker stitch.”

“Completely life-changing,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

“See? You get it,” he shot back with a grin, steering us toward a booth near the bar.

The way his hand lingered, warm and steady, was something I tried not to think too much about. It was just Lando being Lando—playful, touchy, and completely oblivious to the little flips my stomach insisted on doing whenever he leaned too close.

We found our way to a booth not far from the bar, where Alexandra and Charles were already seated. Charles was gesturing animatedly about something, while Alexandra sat with her usual poised grace, sipping champagne. When she saw us, her face lit up.

“Enfin, vous êtes là !” Alexandra exclaimed, waving us over. (Finally, you’re here!)

“Lando a changé de chemise trois fois,” I replied, throwing him a look. (Lando changed his shirt three times.)

Charles chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. “Toujours dramatique, hein ?” (Always dramatic, huh?)

“English,” Lando whined as we slid into the booth. “You’re ganging up on me in French. It’s not fair.”

“Pauvre bébé,” I teased, patting his arm lightly. (Poor baby.)

“Whatever that means,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t upset.

The conversation flowed easily between the four of us. Lando, of course, dominated the chatter, weaving an elaborate story about George’s awkward rookie days. His expressions were so animated, his gestures so over-the-top, that even Charles—usually the calm and composed one—was cracking up by the end.

“That’s not true,” I said, nudging Lando with my elbow. “You’re exaggerating again.”

“I’m not!” he protested, his green eyes wide with mock innocence. “It’s all true. Every word.”

“Sure it is,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Back me up here!” he said, turning to Charles.

Charles raised a brow, taking a deliberate sip of his drink. “I wasn’t there, but… I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Alexandra laughed softly, glancing at me. “Toujours l’acteur dramatique, ce Lando.” (Always the drama actor, that Lando.)

“Hey,” Lando said, pointing at her. “I know that wasn’t a compliment.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “It absolutely wasn’t.”

He gasped dramatically, his hand over his chest. “Betrayed by my own friends. I’ll never recover.”

“You’ll survive,” I said, brushing him off, though the warmth in his gaze lingered just a beat too long.

Lando eventually excused himself to grab drinks, leaving me to chat with Alexandra and Charles. As soon as he was out of earshot, Alexandra leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Il est tellement évident qu’il a un faible pour toi,” she said softly, her voice full of amusement. (It’s so obvious he has a thing for you.)

“Quoi?” I asked, my cheeks heating instantly. (What?)

“Ouvre les yeux,” she said, smirking. (Open your eyes.)

Charles chuckled, sipping his drink as he watched the exchange. “C’est écrit partout sur son visage.” (It’s written all over his face.)

“Stop,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re imagining things.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, her expression saying everything her words didn’t.

At the bar, Lando was cornered by Carlos, who leaned casually against the counter, his expression smug.

“You know,” Carlos said, his tone casual, “you’re not very subtle.”

“What are you talking about?” Lando asked, though his focus kept drifting toward the booth where I was sitting.

Carlos raised his drink, gesturing toward me. “You’ve been staring at her all night, hermano. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Lando stiffened, his grin faltering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just tell her,” Carlos said, swirling his drink lazily.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando replied, his voice quieter now.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because if I mess this up, I lose her,” Lando admitted, glancing toward our booth.

Carlos tilted his head, studying him. “You’re scared. That’s what this is.”

“Of course I’m scared,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s my best friend. If it doesn’t work—”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Carlos interrupted, his voice softer now. “But you’d better do something soon.”

Carlos’s smirk softened slightly, but before Lando could reply, Liam Lawson appeared at the bar.

“Who’s the girl with Charles and Alexandra?” Liam asked, nodding toward the booth. “She single?”

Carlos grinned mischievously. “Yeah, she is—go for it.”

Lando’s head snapped toward Carlos, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Carlos.”

“What?” Carlos said, feigning innocence. “Just giving the kid a shot.”

…

Liam approached with the kind of confidence that only a Red Bull driver could pull off.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. “You’re Y/N, right?”

I blinked, momentarily surprised but recovering quickly. “That’s me. And you are?”

“Liam Lawson,” he said, extending a hand.

I shook it, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Nice to meet you.”

“How do you know George?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as if he had all the time in the world.

“Through Lando,” I replied, keeping my tone polite but measured. His easy demeanor was almost disarming, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made me hyper-aware of my surroundings.

“Ah, Lando,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Lucky guy. You two seem pretty close.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said simply, taking a sip of my drink and trying not to overthink his comment.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “his loss if he hasn’t made a move yet.”

That caught me off guard. My gaze flicked to his, searching for any hint of a joke, but he was entirely serious—or at least good at pretending to be.

“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice betraying my surprise.

Liam grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Just saying. If I were him, I wouldn’t be sitting over there, letting someone else steal your attention.”

The comment was bold, and I didn’t quite know how to respond. My thoughts were a mess of confusion, flattery, and something else I didn’t want to name. Before I could formulate a response, the familiar sound of Lando’s voice cut through the air.

“Liam,” he said smoothly, stepping up to the table. His tone was calm, but his green eyes held a sharpness that made me sit up a little straighter.

Liam glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Christian’s looking for you,” Lando said, his tone casual but firm. “Something about debrief notes.”

Liam frowned, clearly reluctant. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Lando said, nodding. “He seemed pretty keen.”

Liam hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and Lando like he was weighing his options. Finally, he sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Alright. Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“You too,” I replied, watching him leave with a mixture of relief and something I couldn’t quite pin down.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lando lingered for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets as he avoided my gaze.

“That,” Charles said, his tone thick with amusement, “was the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Lando shot him a glare, his ears turning faintly red. “Mind your own business, Charles.”

Charles just smirked, raising his glass in mock surrender. “Whatever you say.”

I didn’t say anything, but a flicker of suspicion settled in the back of my mind.

Had Lando just…? No. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

“Let’s get a drink,” Alexandra said, pulling me to my feet.

…

As Alexandra and I made our way back toward the booth, she nudged me gently, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Lando looked like he was about to breathe fire earlier,” she said casually, sipping her drink.

I laughed softly, trying to deflect. “He’s always protective. It’s nothing.”

“Protective?” Alexandra repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That was not protective, chérie. That was jealousy.”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped short as we neared the booth, Lando and Charles’s voices filtering through the hum of the room.

“It will just be awkward, mate,” Lando said, his tone low and almost resigned.

“Just talk about it,” Charles replied simply.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando muttered. “She will never be more than just a friend.”

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My chest tightened, and the air around me seemed to still. Alexandra’s hand touched my arm gently, but I barely noticed.

“I— I need some air,” I managed, turning away before she could respond.

The ache in my chest grew with every step I took, his words echoing in my head.

She will never be more than just a friend.

And just like that, everything I thought I’d imagined felt painfully real.

…

I turned my phone face down on the table at Gigi’s, willing myself not to glance at the screen again. The missed calls from Lando were piling up, his name lighting up my notifications every half hour like clockwork. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him—I did. But every time I thought about his voice, his laugh, his damn words, the ache in my chest tightened.

She will never be more than just a friend.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away as the waiter arrived with my order. The smell of rich, cheesy pasta wafted up, comforting in the way only food could be. I twirled a forkful absentmindedly, hoping the carbs would somehow fill the space that had been hollowed out the night before.

The familiar growl of an engine outside pulled my attention from my plate. I glanced toward the window and froze.

The unmistakable silhouette of Lando’s Miura parked just outside, sleek and shining even under the soft glow of streetlights. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was, stepping out effortless as usual—but his expression wasn’t the easygoing grin I was used to. He looked… worried.

Before I could decide what to do, he spotted me through the window, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He pushed through the door, his eyes locking onto mine immediately.

“There you are,” he said, relief evident in his tone as he approached my table.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

He pulled out the chair across from me, sitting down without asking. “Looking for you.”

My heart twisted. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been ignoring me all day,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I looked away, focusing on my fork. “I had my phone off that’s all.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he said finally, his voice softer but steady.

I glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“You always turn to cheesy Italian food when you’re upset,” he said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s your thing.”

The casual observation caught me off guard, a mix of warmth and frustration bubbling in my chest.

“So what?” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “You’re some kind of expert on me now?”

He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Y/N, I know you better than anyone. And I know something’s wrong.”

I didn’t answer, twisting my fork in the pasta and pretending to be engrossed in my meal. But the usual comfort it brought was absent, replaced by the uncomfortable weight of his gaze.

“You’re not yourself,” Lando said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my tone clipped.

“Don’t lie to me,” he replied, his tone more serious than I was used to.

I set my fork down, the clink of metal against porcelain louder than it should have been. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking.”

His eyes softened, his frustration giving way to concern. “Y/N…”

“Lando, I’m fine,” I interrupted, though the words felt hollow.

He didn’t push further, but I could see the gears turning in his head. He sat back, glancing down at my half-finished plate of pasta before gesturing to the waiter.

“Can we get the check, please?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Paying,” he said simply, standing as the waiter approached.

“For me?”

“Yes,” he said, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Come on.”

“Come on where?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“You’ll see,” he said, extending a hand.

I hesitated for a moment before letting him pull me to my feet.

The warm night air hit us as we stepped out of Gigi’s, the soft sound of waves in the distance mingling with the faint hum of the city. Lando didn’t say anything, his grip on my hand firm but gentle as he led me toward Larvotto Beach, just a short walk away.

“Lando, seriously,” I said as we reached the sand. “What’s going on?”

He stopped, turning to face me, his green eyes brighter under the moonlight.

“We need to talk.” he said simply.

And just like that, my heart started racing, even though I had no idea what he was going to say.

The beach stretched out before us, quiet except for the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. The city lights glittered faintly in the distance, their reflection dancing on the dark water. Lando walked beside me, his shoulders tense, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

For once, I didn’t fill the silence. I didn’t trust myself to. My thoughts were a whirlwind—last night’s overheard words still fresh in my mind, colliding with the unexpected intensity of this moment.

We walked like that for a while, the sand soft beneath our feet, until Lando came to a sudden stop. He turned to face me, his green eyes catching the moonlight in a way that made my stomach twist.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

I crossed my arms, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. “Try the beginning.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “The beginning’s too far back. I’d be here all night.”

“Good thing I don’t have anywhere else to be,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression softening. “Y/N, I have a lot of friends. Like, a lot of friends.”

I blinked, confused. “Okay?”

“But none of them get to me the way you do,” he said, his voice dropping.

I stared at him, my breath catching. “What are you saying?”

He glanced out at the water, like he was searching for courage in the rolling waves. “I mean… you’re not just anyone to me. You never have been. You’re the first person I think of when something happens—good or bad. And the idea of upsetting you? It’s unbearable.”

My throat tightened as his words sank in.

“Like today,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “You ignored my calls, and I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I’d done something wrong. Whether I hurt you somehow. Because if I did…” He stopped, exhaling sharply, and shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of you being upset because of me.”

I didn’t respond, too caught up in the flood of emotions his words were pulling from me.

“When you’re upset, it breaks my heart,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “And when you laugh… it’s like my entire day gets brighter. When you’re sad, it feels like my world’s falling apart.”

“Lando,” I started, but he held up a hand, shaking his head.

“I’m not done,” he said, his words tumbling out now, faster and more frantic. “I’ve been feeling like this for so long, and I thought I could just push it aside or pretend it didn’t matter, but it does. It matters so much. And if I messed up—if I’ve ruined this somehow—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You didn’t—”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted, his eyes locking onto mine. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to admit it. And I know this might change everything, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

I froze, his confession slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if this makes sense. I just… I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

Without thinking, I stepped closer, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

For a second, he was completely still, caught off guard. But then he kissed me back, his hands slipping to my waist as he pulled me closer. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened quickly, making the world around me disappear.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath.

“So… I’m guessing you feel the same?” he asked, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re so slow sometimes,” I murmured, shaking my head with a laugh.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” I said, smiling.

The relief on his face was almost comical. He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me tightly like he never wanted to let go.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he murmured into my hair.

“And I’ve wanted to hear it,” I admitted, my voice muffled against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “But… yesterday. Did I say something? Did I—”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting. “I overheard you talking to Charles.”

His face paled. “Oh.”

“You said I’d never be more than a friend,” I said, my voice wavering.

Lando winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, Y/N, that’s not how I meant it at all. I said that because I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Like… you’re so important to me, and I didn’t want to mess up what we already had by wanting something I thought I could never have.”

He looked at me with a mix of regret and hope. “I’m an idiot. It wasn’t because I didn’t want more—it’s because I didn’t think I could have it.”

“You are an idiot,” I said, my lips twitching into a small smile. “But you’re my idiot.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yours, huh? Bold claim.”

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Think you can find someone else to deal with you the way I do?”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Deal with me? You mean worship my charm and tolerate my perfection?”

“Oh, please,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “The only thing I’m worshipping is the patience I’ve built up putting up with you.”

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me slightly closer, his smirk turning more mischievous. “You love me. Admit it.”

“Not a chance,” I said, even as my pulse quickened.

His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my eyes again, his voice softening but still teasing. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Before I could respond, he closed the gap, kissing me again with a fierceness that took me by surprise. This wasn’t the hesitant, nervous kiss from before. It was confident, teasing, like everything we’d been holding back had finally snapped into place.

I kissed him back, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His hands tightened on my waist, grounding me as he smiled against my lips, murmuring, “Still denying it?”

I broke the kiss just long enough to catch my breath, raising an eyebrow. “You think one kiss is going to make me fold?”

“Two,” he said smugly, leaning in for another without waiting for an answer.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop him, meeting him halfway this time. His lips curved into a grin mid-kiss, and I could feel his stupid, insufferable smugness radiating off him.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked when we pulled apart, my voice laced with mock annoyance.

“Unbelievably,” he replied, his grin widening as he rested his forehead against mine. “And don’t pretend you’re not.”

“Maybe I am,” I admitted, smirking. “But if you keep talking, I might start regretting it.”

He laughed, pulling me closer. “Alright, no more talking. For now.”

“Good,” I said, leaning in again, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore fading into the background as everything else fell away.

The weight of everything unsaid was gone, replaced by the warmth of realizing we’d both been fighting our way toward the same truth: we’d always belonged to each other.

When we broke apart, Lando’s grin turned mischievous, and I immediately knew he was up to something. Before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly and started toward the water.

“Lando! Don’t you dare!” I shrieked, squirming in his arms as laughter bubbled out of me.

“Payback for all those times you called me an idiot,” he teased, stopping just as the waves lapped at his shoes.

He finally set me down, his smirk smug and unapologetic. “Admit it. You love me anyway.”

Figures. I’m in love with someone who steals my fries and once confidently argued that dolphins were just “sea dogs.” I wouldn’t have it any other way though.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando x you #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine

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simpjaes · 2 months ago

Text

666 ― S.JY

When does an interest in the supernatural become unnatural? You’d say right around the time a spirit told you to write his name with your own….body fluids

minors dni! | reblog to summon a hot demon

WORDCOUNT― 4.8k

PAIRING― demon!Jake x reader (ft. boyfriend Sunghoon)

CONTENT― Jake the jealous demon and is also a massive cocky asshole, reader the instigator. made up sex magic, Jake is A VERY horny demon. sunghoon also wants demon jake. peep the smut tags lol

WARNINGS ― infidelity but like ur cheating with a sex demon so, some instances could be mistaken for manipulation

NOTE― this is a halloween fic that i forgot about that i wrote for haechan on my other blog ncteez. if you’re one of the few who actually read this before, just know that I am the same person!!!!!!!!!!! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― cock mimicking (demon fucks you with your boyfriend’s cock), forked tongue play, finger fucking, ghostly foreplay, HUGE MASSIVE COCK PENETRATION, mind reading, horns react to touch the same way a cock does ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You've always been into halloween, Sunghoon just thought it was a cute little quirk of yours. Until he started dating you and realized that...it's not just halloween that you're into. It's just a general list of things that would be considered disturbing on any other month that isn't october.

Deities, spirits, ghouls, demons, bones, death, blood.

He's supportive, of course. October is one of the months you're allowed to openly enjoy these things, because everyone pretends to like them too at this time of year. Temporary stores open up to sell the congealed fake blood, ouija boards are moved to the outside aisles of retail stores, and of course, everything is on sale.

This is great for Sunghoon because, as your boyfriend, he knows you celebrate the month of halloween more than you celebrate your own birthday, and the gifts can be plentiful.

Lately, you've been more interested in spirit work too, so when he's on his way home from work to see you, stopping by one of those chaotic halloween stores to grab a fancy, way too expensive if not on sale ouija board? It was a given.

Anything to see that cute smile on your face.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well. The ouija board miiiiiight have been a mistake on his part.

Knowing next to nothing on spirit work, he wasn't expecting a board game sold in children's stores to actually pick anything up for you. Yet, night after night when he comes home, you approach him with a tight hug, an excited smile, and stories of which spirit gave you their name this time.

You, on the other hand, claim to know more about spirit work than you actually do. You did not expect to get any type of response either, especially in this pristine apartment that you assume no one has died in yet.

You learned fast though. Research, research, research.

"Today I learned that spirits aren't actually trapped in one space like all the ghost movies try to say. They might be connected but they can freely come and go." You smile against Sunghoon as he settles himself on the couch, freshly showered after work.

"You really like playing with that thing, huh?" He smiles back, still believing in the shallowness of it all, when it comes to corporate companies selling boards for people to "connect with loved ones".

Nodding to him, you stand up and look at him expectantly.

"Do you wanna try?"

He's reluctant at first. As much as he supports you and your interests, they aren't his.

He's great at humoring you though. Amazing, even.

"Yeah, why not?" He smiles, standing to his tired feet and following you into the bedroom.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Two fingers on both hands," You quietly guide him on how to use it. "If you're not comfortable asking questions, I can do it."

Sunghoon nods casually, still not quite believing in the gimmick but loving the way you're so passionate.

"I don't mind asking, can I try?"

You frown, knowing exactly what will happen when he does.

"Yeah, of course!" You turn your frown into something unreadable, hoping that the same spirit you've been talking to is off at some middle school party switching the lights to get a kick out of it.

Then, there's silence. The candle's flame that you had previously lit bounces in the still air, indicating that tonight is already primed for the various spirits you've willingly accepted into your space.

"Uh," Sunghoon suddenly feels awkward, speaking out to nothing in the room when you're right in front of him, watching him. "Hello?"

You snicker at his awkwardness, knowing that you felt it too.

"Is there anything–anyone– here tonight? We'd like to talk."

Here's the thing. From the moment you started fucking with this oujia board, you never watched your words. You assumed that using proper grammar when speaking wouldn't matter much, considering they're dead and all. You keep it respectful, of course, but...

Anything being in your apartment is a huge difference compared to anyone.

The anythings tend to make a run for it, and the anyones are forced to stay away from the dangerous energy you're unintentionally inviting.

Speaking of the anythings, there's a regular. If your frown from moments ago is anything to go by. A vulgar spirit which you know as nothing more than "Jae".

Jae, the spirit, claims to be in his twenties, slides the planchette with just your fingers on it to numbers and letters with ease, and also is very fond of sarcasm, apparently.

The last time you spoke with this specific spirit, it ended it you asking him if he left any loved ones behind when he died. The board said yes, Jae said yes.

He claimed to be male, he claimed to have died ten years ago, and claims to have been in love.

And when you tried to relate, speaking of your boyfriend, saying your boyfriend's name, the spirit stopped responding. In fact, the board flew straight across your room as you spoke of Sunghoon.

Arguably, you were thrown off and only a little bit afraid. You definitely weren't the one who swiped the board off your bed, letting it hit your wall.

Which is why, while inviting Sunghoon to try the board, you hope that said spirit is off doing other things.

Which he's not.

Sunghoon's eyes nearly roll when he feels the planchette pull, dragging to the word of "yes" after you spoke out after his awkward greeting.

"You're pulling it, right?"

You ignore him, already locked in and staring at the board.

"Can you give me your name?" You whisper, now glancing up to Sunghoon and waiting for the planchette to move again.

It does, straight to the "J", and as it continues, you lift your hands out of discomfort, unintentionally proving to your boyfriend that you're not moving it.

"A" Sunghoon whispers as he stares in disbelief, feeling his hands move against the ghostly board. "E."

And when the planchette stops, he looks at you.

"Why'd you let go?" He says, glancing between both you and the board. "This is insane!" A smile.

You can see the same excitement you had the first time it moved for you, but the fact that the same spirit is back, after rudely throwing your board across the room at the mere mention of Sunghoon is a bit worrisome.

"Jae?" Sunghoon calls out, now feeling the adrenaline in his blood push past the anxiety of talking to nothing. "How did you die?"

"Sunghoon! You can't just ask him that!"

"Him?" Sunghoon side eyes you. "What makes you think it's a guy?"

You avoid eye contact.

"Well," You tick your tongue. "He's kind of told me like, two weeks ago. Plus, that’s a dude’s name."

Sunghoon laughs, making jokes. This is harmless. This is fun.

"Oh?" Sunghoon tilts his head, lifting his fingers to encourage you to place yours back against the planchette too. "Jae, have you been flirting with my girlfriend?"

It was a joke of a question, and quite disrespectful in your mind for him to ask such a thing, but the way the planchette moves to "yes" has you sweating, and kind of, smiling.

A spirit, jealous of Sunghoon? Not something you had on your bingo card for the year.

"So you think I'm pretty?" You smile, avoiding your boyfriend's eye and watching the planchette move over to "no".

Your smile falls, and the planchette moves again.

"H."

"O."

"T."

You actually cannot explain the warmth inside of you. Flirting with a ghost, while your boyfriend participates? Hilarious scenario, surely Sunghoon isn't taking this seriously.

"You're moving it now, there's no way some dead guy is coming after my girl." Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head.

The planchette responds, moving to "no."

"Alright, stop fucking around." Sunghoon narrows his eyes at you. "A spirit wouldn't take the energy to contact us just to call you hot."

The planchette responds again, moving to the letter "B."

"Take your hands off again, there's no way." He seems more concerned this time.

"I."

"T."

"C."

"H."

Sunghoon's mouth falls open.

"Who are you calling a bitch? Me, or my very hot girlfriend that you can't have?"

"Y."

"O."

And as the planchette makes it way over to the "u" Sunghoon lifts his hands and glares at every empty space around the room.

"He just called me a bitch." Sunghoon rolls his eyes. "There is a spirit in this room, who thinks i'm a bitch."

You laugh uncomfortably, and he laughs more casually.

"Well, that was fun, I guess." Sunghoon continues, standing to his feet as you cross your fingers that the board wont go flying into his head. "I'm gonna go take a shower then."

He kisses you gently on the forehead and leaves you alone in the room where, obviously, you're still not alone.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Days pass and Halloween draws closer as you are both drawn to and forcing yourself away from the ouija board.

Something calls you to it. Whispers of your name when Sunghoon isn't home, feather light touches that raise your skin, nightmares, but your gut tells you to stay away.

Can you though? Can you really resist such a strange happening?

Of course not.

Spirit work is fun, but you can't help but wonder if this entity is a spirit at all. Out of all the research, people rarely get more than one to two answers during a session of Ouija. This Jae thing seems to hold a lot of energy, an entire personality, and the ability to haunt you in a way that makes you feel weirdly.......safe?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Jae, are you here?" You call out in the early morning, the oujia board tucked safely under your bed as you lay there.

Your curtains move as if the window is open.

"The dream I had last night, was that you?" You continue to speak into the void, allowing it to speak back.

Except it doesn't speak back, it touches. You feel your ankle being tugged, as you scoot down the bed.

Most people would scream. Most people would call a priest. Most people wouldn't want to be alone with it. Then again, you're not most people.

You laugh, scooting yourself back up on the bed.

"I wish I could see what you really look like. In my dreams, you're just a shadow."

Another tug, and then the oujia board goes sliding out from under your bed, indicating that he wants to communicate better with you.

You take the bait, lying the board out with your sleepy eyes and drowsily smiling at the empty space in front of you.

Before you can even place your hands on the planchette, it's moving.

"S"

"U"

"M"

"O"

"N"

You should probably be running for the hills after that, but you don't. You sit, still drowsy.

"How would I manage to do that?"

"S"

"L"

"E"

"P"

And for some reason, you do. Instantly, you go back to sleep. Despite waking up without an alarm, the drowsy feeling stayed throughout your morning conversation with the spirit in your apartment. Dozing off came easy, with the oujia board still in front of you.

And there, you dream despite knowing that the sun is hitting your face as you sleep. You can feel the warmth of it in the dream as a creature, no, a man, approaches you in an empty expanse of fog.

In your dream, you cannot speak despite trying to. No voice comes out, but the man speaks smoothly, fuzzy and distorted face slowly untwisting itself into that of an actual man.

That's him. You can feel it through your heavy sleep, your hairs raising both in the astral realm and in your waking body.

"You want to summon me?" The man asks, smiling at you in a heavenly way. "You have to say my full name."

You can't speak back, but he continues.

"You have to be alone, though others can still join if the door is open. On both ends."

You stand, listening to his echoed voice through the fog.

"If you want me in the physical form, you have to do something physical for me." He continues, stepping closer and closer until his body is nearly going through you. "Say my name each time you're pleasured, and write my name against your skin with the mess of it."

You quirk a brow, and the form in front of you smiles.

"What? You thought I'd let you summon me for anything else? I've been here for thousands of years."

You thought he died ten years ago.

"Angel pussy only gets so tight, you know."

Vulgar. Yet, your physical body is tingling. Angel pussy? Is he an angel? From a religion you don't even believe in?

He notes the confusion on your dreaming face.

"You see me now, my face, if you want to feel me too, you'll do as I say." His dreamed up voice is something you know you've never heard before. His face, someone you've never seen.

You know it's not possible to dream of a physical person you've never seen, and he's so clear to you at this moment. Practically feeling his voice blow in your face.

His hair, messy, almost wet looking. His eyes are piercing, his lips, pretty.

You nod, and he smiles.

"And don't invite your boyfriend."

Then, you snap awake. Feeling as if you've just had the wettest of dreams.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Naturally, you listened to the figure in the dream, using every pleasurable mess your body makes to write his name on your skin. A name which came to you without him stating it at all in the dream.

Days go by, his name remains on your skin.

Halloween comes and, well, so does Sim Jaeyun.

Finally.

October 30th, 11:59am is the last moment of your life where you'll be curious. October 31st, 12:00am is the first moment of your life where a ghostly touch became a real one.

You were awake, of course you were. And alone.

Sunghoon tends to spend the 30th with you, and the 31st with his parents, helping to tend to the haunted house his family likes to throw each year.

"You're alone?" You hear, whispered against your ear as you slouch against the couch.

The echoed voice is all to familiar, sending a shock through your body in an instant and you turn, only to see nothing.

"Jae?" You question into the air, glancing around the room.

A deep chuckle is heard in your other ear, and a cold feeling is felt against your cheek.

"Entirely alone?" The voice sounds out.

"I've done what you told me to do, and I still can't see you.”

"I know." The voice sounds further away now, and you follow it all too easily.

Straight into your room, you follow the whispers. You see the board get thrown again, and you tilt your head.

"You're upset?" You question to the emptiness, and you get no response at all until you feel it.

Ice cold pressure running from your ankles to the nape of your neck. Traveling up and down your body until you can barely stand the feeling of goosebumps refusing to go down.

Thunder. Lightening, and then the sound of raining rattling against your window.

You sigh at the new feeling, your legs moving on their own to your bed as you lay against it in a feeling of cold comfort.

"One more time." You feel the whisper before you truly hear it, a weight on your bed, a weight hovering over you. "Write my name."

The ice cold feeling strikes between your legs, instantly giving you the very material to do as he says. And you do, dipping your fingers between your legs in awe at the feeling of how fast you manage to get wet over this.

And there, you feel the weight against your hand, almost as if he's writing his name himself against your thigh.

And you wait.

and wait.

and wait, until....

"Close your eyes."

You do, not daring to open them until he says. You feel that ice cold energy leave, replaced with a searing hot feeling, something that makes you sweat, something that makes you shake.

You hear shuffling, you hear your bedroom door opening and closing, you hear mumbled whispers in a different language, and then you hear his voice in real space. Bouncing off your walls rather than being implied right up against your ear.

"Open your eyes."

You open them to your empty room sitting just as you left it, the air feeling neutral, the oujia board looking much less magical as it lays on the floor. Then you hear your door open. Instantly your eyes glance to the space there.

"It's you." You whisper out, looking him up and down, feeling overwhelmed, and quite frankly, astonished.

"Of course it's me, you summoned me." The figure smiles, looking nothing more than a man despite something being...off. Which is obvious, but still stirs your stomach uncomfortably.

"You're no spirit, are you?" You blurt, unsure of how rude it may seem to him.

"Oh no, clearly not." The figure looms over, taking visible strides towards you before holding his hand out to truly feel you for the first time. "I got you good though, didn't I?"

"What are you, then?" You question, ignoring that you've been writing his name on your skin day after day with the slick your orgasms produce.

"Does it matter? I'm only here physically for the night." He glares deeply at your questions. So willing to bring him here, but so unwilling to complete the other half of the deal that he, maybe, didn't expand on in previous communications.

You stare at him, still trying to process that the so-called spirit you were so excited to speak to before, is here, now, in flesh. With a voice, and a body that doesn't entirely appear to be breathing at all. He looks so human, so, so, human, yet so....not.

He doesn't falter at your reaction much longer though. It's been hundreds of years since he's managed to get a woman to call out for him in such a vulgar way. It was funny to him, really, looming in every corner watching you do as he instructed. Reading your mind when you're intimate with Sunghoon.

"Last night– you were thinking of me instead.." Jaeyun smiles warmly, uncaring of how strongly he comes off because opinions and thoughts are something he is well versed in.

He can read everything you're thinking, and you want it. He's gentle when he moves to you, claiming his spot hovering over you, staring down at your eyes. He never knew what it was like to look at someone, to cherish and love, even. He only knows how to look into and through a person.

"I did." You admit, unable to look away from him, unable to feel fear, or pretend that you want to squirm away from his weight loosely pinning you against the bed. "Were you always here? Watching?"

He nods with a smile.

"Quite pretty when you're writing my name," He comments, leaning down to lick against your bottom lip. "If only you knew what it all meant, in the grand scheme of things."

"Hm?" You try to question, feeling like you're in a trance by the way his tongue flicks out so quickly, satiating your entire body with just that single act.

"Six times." He breathes. "You did so well."

You sigh at the feeling of nothing, as he pulls his face back from yours. There's still a ghostly pressure against all of the right places, and he's very aware of it.

"I own you." He comments with a chuckle, moving his hand down your body to feel the wet he created with no effort at all. "You'll never be rid of me."

You find....great pleasure in that. He knows you do. Even if he couldn't read every thought behind your eyes, the way your body moves toward his hand is enough to go by.

Humans, so desperate. So obsessed with praise, so...selfish. Just like him. Time and time again, he will grow bored of the sex other realms offer. It doesn't matter how many forms of fog he can get his claws on. Becoming human, being with a human, it sears hotter for him.

Makes him hotter. Makes him feel like the god who damned him.

"I'm a demon, babe." He laughs, now effectively thrusting two fingers into you and enjoying the way you seethe out at the heat he can't help but emit.

Deep down, you knew. You accepted it. You brought him here, you kept him here. You simply don't care. Otherworldly beings are meant to give curiosity. Who cares if you gave in? You didn't know where your everlasting soul would end up anyway, at least now you know that it'll end up with this....humanly thing who works his fingers like magic.

Because it is magic. Hellish magic.

"Is this what you always look like?" You ask, "Is this what you always sound like?"

The demon chuckles against your throat, fingers making little effort in the way it quite literally feels like you're already having the best sex of your human life.

"Does it matter? You gave yourself to me, I can be whatever you want me to be." He whispers out, licking against your naked skin.

That's right. Somehow, you're undressed. You felt no fabric, and you could honestly care less if he snapped them into the void.

You moan at the feeling, comprehending only slightly how his tongue went from flat and humanly to...forked. Two tips of his tongue, wrapped around your nipple, moving smoothly, wetly, hotly against you in a way that feels as blasphemous as it looks.

And when you reach up, on your very earthly instinct to grip his hair, you're met with a pair of curled horns.

You moan again, and he chuckles, knowing that this is for your pleasure, not his own quite yet.

"You can touch them." He insists, sliding his fingers out of you and writing his name again against your thigh, essentially sealing the contract you already agreed to. "You'll have no choice but to hold on to them later."

You, for some reason, take that promise as if it is seared into your fate. Forever damned to take hold of a demon's horns, forever blessed to be fucked by him.

"I like that thought," the demon chuckles with a second voice, seemingly penetrating your thoughts more than the place between your legs right now. "Blessed." He smiles, tongue long as it remains against your nipple and yet, he still is able to lift up to make eye contact with you. "Cute."

You're so entranced by the happenings in this moment, that Sunghoon seems...lesser. He feels like the past to you, as you feel and experience a hellish hand, and a hellish tongue. Soon, possibly, to experience whatever kind of cock demons have.

"Lesser? Fitting." he comments straight into your thoughts with that second voice, soothing your ambitions of being anyone other than his. "and my cock..."

You listen so intently to that second voice, your body is burning up with pleasure. The way he continues to write his name on your skin somehow feels better than when his fingers were inside of you. All of it feels better than anything you've ever felt in your life.

"It can be more, can be less, can be bigger, smaller, doubled, tripled, and even..." His secondary voice pauses with a chuckle, "if you're into experimenting, i am and will be whatever body you're interested in being fucked by."

That...seems exciting.

And it is. Trading a human life for whatever the fuck this is seems like such a great idea. Entranced or not, you still have a mind of your own and it's one that wanted this. He knows it, you know it, and no one else needs to know it.

"That's right, work your little brain." He pulls back, leaving your nipples more than swollen while he uses his real voice. Raspy, vulgar, enticing. "You made this choice." He taunts, flattening his palm against your thigh and pressing your legs open, hooking one above his other leg and instantly sliding into you.

The moment he hears your thoughts, searing in the pain you summoned upon yourself, he smiles. He coos out, pitying the way you so willingly want this deal to be real. And oh, it's so real.

That pain you're feeling with the cock he perfected just for you. He knows what you want.

"Familiar?" He smiles wickedly against your neck, darting his tongue out to lick a searing heat against you.

You can barely think through the feeling of his cock practically morphing inside of you. The pain from before, with the large hardened length turning into that of something...not only familiar but, too familiar.

He's fucking you with Sunghoon's cock, and can't help but notice how much you fight against wanting anything other than that.

"Too familiar?" He repeats your thoughts, stretching you open more than you think you ever have been, as his cock becomes thicker, heavier, hotter. "So, mine will do then?"

You try to nod, but you're a bit busy trying to comprehend the fact that a demon cock is quite literally tearing you apart right now, on Halloween fucking night. How grossly cliche.

"We like gross though, don't we?" He smiles, pulling his length out only a bit, and feeling the way your pussy grips it as if you'd find a way to threaten him for not keeping you filled to the brim. "You like feeling like you're being split in half, don't you?"

You do nod this time, arms reaching up to his horns and squeezing tightly. He grunts at it, loving the feeling of someone touching on him while lying helpless beneath him. Such willpower you have, such willpower you don't want.

He feels what you feel, that pain? You love it. The warmth in his horns? Nearly pulsing against your palms at the pleasure of this act? You love that too.

"It's like you were made for the hells, babe." He comments snidely, pulling out, then pushing into you roughly. "Made just for me." He continues, claiming you, fucking you, all while knowing that you're already his.

All while knowing that there's another person entering this apartment, and you're too far gone to pretend that this isn't temptation. It's willingful lust, and it's a deed you signed for.

"Weren't you?" His secondary voice demands that you respond with your voice rather than your thoughts, as he continuously stimulates your entire body through his own made up form.

"Weren't you?" He echoes again, real and secondary voice now filling your senses alongside the squeezing in your gut, your g-spot stimulated by a demon cock seemingly built for doing just this. A body built for pleasure, a demon created for it.

"Weren't you?" He echoes through a seethed whisper, tongue darting out and between your lips, forcing an answer from you.

You wail out in pleasure, sheer lack of humanity showing through the sound. He loves the way you sob a "yes!" through amazement. Humans aren't meant to comprehend what he's doing to you, or what he will do to you.

Humans aren't meant to accept seeing either, yet, here comes Sunghoon. Sprinting to the room where he's just heard his beloved girlfriend scream.

Only to find you gripping onto a pair of pulsing horns. Legs spread wider for this creature than they ever were for him. A forked tongue looking as if it's sucking the life straight from your throat.

But those screams aren't from pain, Sunghoon sees it plainly.

The sound of a cock too big for you, pleasuring you. The grip you have on this creature, and the grip that creature has on you.

Sunghoon can't find it in him to even ask what the fuck is going on. He just stands there frozen, knowing you don't notice him there. Who would?!

The creature, makes eye contact.

"I tried to fuck her with your cock," It echoes out to him in a, almost apologetic voice and it sends shivers down his spine. "She needed more."

Sunghoon is still standing in the doorway of your bedroom. Frozen solid, his heart is racing as he watches that he's not only being cheated on but like, goddamn, with a fucking....thing?! Not even a person?

Your ears are ringing, sure you've orgasms a dozen times by now, both feeling all of it and not feeling any of it at all because the demon just keeps going. Listening to your every thought, cooing at each orgasm and willing more, more, more. Until he can trace his name six hundred and sixty six times into your skin. "You could be mine too, Sunghoon." The demon calls out, forcing his voice into the man's head, reading every thought, half-assed prayer, and unbelievable idea of trying to intervene. "I know you want to."

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake smut #jake sim smut #enha smut

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andypantsx3 · 18 days ago

Text

BY THE BOOK : MIDORIYA IZUKU X READER

SUMMARY: When your pro hero boyfriend comes home to find you studying, he suddenly takes a great interest in helping out. You find his methods... questionable. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft, hysterical literature (reading out loud while sexually stimulated), pro hero deku, deku still has ofa, support tech grad student reader, slight intelligence kink, gn + afab reader, cunnilingus, established relationship, aged up characters, fluff (3k) NOTES: Hi guys! I have been in survival mode as of late and the writing has been slow going; my sincerest apologies for how long it’s taking me to burn down my @ficsforgaza backlog. But I finally had the time & energy on my hands this weekend to work on this one and I had such a blast!! I hope I’m not too rusty—and if I am, I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it regardless lol. Love you and thank you always for your patience. Happy Holidays!!

Sometimes, you thought you could tell your boyfriend was near, even before you heard his key in the lock.

It was something to do with his power, you’d always suspected—as a support engineer unduly interested in other people’s capabilities, you’d spent hundreds of hours turning it over in your head. It was the unnatural immensity of other people’s powers, you thought, pulling and coiling just beneath the surface of Izuku’s skin. In close proximity, after prolonged use, its presence felt like a shiver up the back of your neck.

You felt the barest hint of it now, an unsettled feeling creeping into the marrow of your bones, and you sat up on the couch just as you heard the scratch of Izuku’s keys at the door.

One For All fit cleanly into Izuku’s own unwavering intensity somehow, like the last piece of his puzzle. Though one would certainly never think so looking at him as he spilled through the door, pink-cheeked from the cold, all bright eyes, sweetly angelic features, and a riot of wild green curls. He looked windswept from the biting winter breeze. He also looked too kind to be carrying the sort of power he did—too sweet and eager and lovely.

“Look what the wind blew in,” you grinned at him over the back of the couch, after assessing he was well. Your eyes tracked the sinuous movement of those broad shoulders as he yanked his mouthguard over his head, the flex and pull of his bicep as he hung it beside the door. He was moving without pause, no sign of injury or muscle strain , and his suit was intact. Ordinarily you didn’t mind if there was a bit of shredding about the abs as long as he came back to you whole and hale, but in the winter you didn’t like him wandering about risking the chance of frostbite.

Your heart fluttered when Izuku returned your smile with one of his own, so beautiful and bright, chasing away the cold he’d tracked in like a warm sliver of sun.

“Lots of small, easy fights today?” You guessed, judging from his intact suit but clear whiff of power about him.

Izuku scrubbed a hand through that riot of curls, exposing the reddened shell of a cold ear. “I only had to use blackwhip a couple of times,” he said as he shouldered the door closed behind him, the muscle of his thighs flexing enticingly as he stepped out of his boots.

You gestured at the pot of soup you’d left warming on the stove, and the veritable pile of crusty bread beside it. Warmth and carbs, exactly what you would have wanted if you were a pro hero fresh off a long day of patrolling in the snow.

Izuku’s eyes fixed on it with an obliging amount of interest, and he almost tripped over himself in the genkan in his haste to get to the kitchen. “I love you,” you heard him say, muffled through a mouthful of bread, heard the clatter of the silverware drawer and a bowl being placed on the counter.

You smiled and turned back to the book in your lap, a particularly dry, knotty text on robotic imitation learning that had had your eyes drifting closed for the better part of an hour. It was the last you’d need to get through for your Wearable Technologies graduate course, and something you were deeply interested in incorporating into your design practice. You could train a piece of equipment on how an individual pro hero moved and deployed their quirk, and use predictive modeling to deploy assistance functionalities within milliseconds if you got it right—such as immediate cooling in pro hero Shouto’s temperature vest the moment he ignited an arm.

The implementation was going to be so cool—but the theory was so mind numbing.

You felt the couch sink in beside your feet, and Izuku peered interestedly at the title in your lap.

“Introduction to Robotic Imitation Learning,” he echoed, and you could hear the note of excitement in his voice. You suppressed a fond smile, knowing he was already thinking through the same applications you had—he was just as much of a nerd as you were.

“Introduction to Snoozing and Napping,” you grumbled, turning back to your page. “There are only so many words on the Kalman filter framework a brain can handle before the human mind shuts itself down.”

Izuku hummed in interest around a spoonful of soup, propping himself up against your leg. The exterior of his suit was still cool from the outside, and he groaned with relief from the warmth of your skin, even as you hissed at the chill.

You knew he wanted you to go on, so you generalized for him. “It’s an algorithm used for robotic motion planning—you not only take measurements of the thing you want to model but you account for uncertainties to predict the probability that something is going to happen.”

Izuku nodded, taking another spoonful of soup, gesturing for you to go on.

You summoned up the willpower to explain joint probability distribution, pleased when Izuku easily managed to follow—he’d always been a quick study, especially of anything that could be employed in the service of heroics. You’d long thought if he hadn’t been gifted his quirk, he would be an insane support engineer.

He managed to finish his entire bowl of soup in the time it took you to explain, and housed another two slices of buttered bread with the sort of alacrity you’d only ever seen in pro heroes and professional athletes, making you smile while you spoke.

His spoon clinked softly against the edge of the bowl as he set them aside on the coffee table, and he hooked his chin over your knees as you finished explaining. In the setting sun from your windows he looked especially lovely, the kind, angular planes of his face brushed in gold, softening the spots of his freckles.

His eyes were especially bright, the way they always were when something in particular had caught his interest, and he smiled at you again over the tops of your knee caps.

“I admire how smart you are,” he told you, in the simple, straightforward way he always gave out compliments. It was like a shot to the heart every time, and you could feel your face warm with the praise even after years of receiving similar compliments.

You reflexively flapped a dismissive hand. “Not smart enough to have internalized it all! I have mostly been falling asleep to it,” you promised him.

He tilted his head, a green curl falling into his eyes. “I know you won’t have a problem when you’re awake.”

You shifted your legs with embarrassment, and a long fingered hand came up to cup the front of your thigh, as Izuku turned more fully towards you. You could feel the warm, hard planes of his chest against your shins, the line of his jumpsuit’s zipper pressing insistently just below your knee.

“Gotta try to impress you somehow,” you joked, your skin prickling as Izuku’s fingers absent-mindedly drew a pattern across your thigh. You could feel the heat of his hand through the thin material of the leggings you’d lounged around in all day, the chill finally chased away from his skin now that he’d come inside and warmed up.

“You do impress me,” he said in his soft, gentle tone. Which made your cheeks and nose burn hotter.

You knew you did, and the steady faith Izuku had in the people around him was one of your favorite things about him. It still made you feel like a middle schooler with a crush to think about, though, the intensity of your feelings too much for one body to handle.

“I will study hard to live up to your faith in me,” you promised, unable to help the goofy smile you knew you were giving him.

Izuku’s chin shifted against the tops of your knees, and he pressed his mouth to the knob of your left one, leaving a smiling kiss. “Tell me more?” he asked, fingers still sliding softly over your thigh.

“I’ll read it to you as I go, then,” you said, turning back to the brick of a tome, propping it up more firmly on your stomach as you adjusted yourself against the couch arm. Izuku’s eyes watched you over the top of the pages, that emerald gaze tracking your face closely.

“‘The algorithm works via a two-phase process: a prediction phase and an update phase’,” you began, trying to turn your attention away from Izuku and back to the text. “‘In the prediction phase, the Kalman filter produces estimates of the current state variables, including their uncertainties. Once the outcome of the next measurement (necessarily corrupted with some error, including random noise) is observed, these estimates are updated using a weighted average, with more weight given to estimates with greater certainty.’”

Izuku’s long fingers traced firmer lines across your thighs, almost like he was taking notes. He layered another kiss along the line of your knee, eyes glittering at you as you read.

“‘The algorithm is recursive,’” you continued, “‘It can operate in real time, using only the present input measurements and the state calculated previously and its uncertainty matrix; no additional past information is required.’”

You almost jumped as Izuku’s mouth trailed lower, into the space between your knees, leaving kisses along your inner thigh. His fingers gently pulled one thigh away to make space for him in between, and you cleared your throat, trying to return to the text at hand.

“‘Optimality of Kalman filtering assumes that errors have a normal–that is, Gaussian–distribution,’” you read on. “‘The following assumptions are made about random processes: Physical random phenomena may be thought of as due to primary random sources exciting dynamic systems. The primary sources are assumed to be independent gaussian random processes with zero mean; the dynamic systems will be linear.’”

Izuku let out a soft breath, insinuating himself further between your thighs. Your own breath came out a little uneven as he bent over you, mouth tracking dangerously towards the inseam of your leggings.

You paused, but Izuku fixed you with a look of his slightly-darkened eyes. “Please—keep reading,” he said, his tone a little lower than it had been a minute ago.

You swallowed in shocked understanding, skin tingling. You felt yourself nod, as Izuku’s fingers strayed to the waist of your pants, dipping below the band.

You let him slowly peel your leggings down, your underwear with them, adjusting as needed to make it easy for him, even as you tried to return your attention to your textbook.

“‘Regardless of Gaussianity, however, if the process and measurement covariances are known, then the Kalman filter is the best possible linear estimator in the minimum mean-square-error sense,’” you quoted, nearly squeaking when Izuku pressed his mouth to your hip, his curls tickling the skin of your belly. His hands gripped either side of your thighs, palms square and rough against your skin, and you tried not to shiver with the feeling.

“Um—‘Although there may be better nonlinear estimators’,” you said, then nearly jumped out of your skin when Izuku pressed his mouth to the core of you, only the strength of his grip stopping you from accidentally kicking him in surprise.

“Oh my g—uh! It—um—‘It is a common misconception perpetuated in the literature that the Kalman filter cannot be rigorously applied unless all noise processes are assumed to be Gaussian,’” you managed, before your cut off into a groan as Izuku layered a hot, sweet kiss over you, tongue dipping carefully between your folds. “Ah-–Izuku—”

Izuku petted a thumb gently over the top of your thigh to show he was listening, even as he swiped his tongue over you again, a long, firm stroke that had your thighs flexing in his hold. He laved over your clit, sucking ever so slightly, and your grip almost tore the edge of your textbooks as it tightened.

“Keep going,” he urged briefly, then did it again, punching a groan out of you.

“Extensions—oh—‘Extensions and generalizations of the method have also been developed, such as the extended Kalman filter and the unscented Kalman filter which work on nonlinear systems,’” you read on, voice shooting up nearly into a squeal when two of Izuku’s long, firm fingers pressed into you, as his mouth moved over you again.

“Ah! Oh my god—the—um, the basis—-” you said, breath growing short. Izuku’s fingers unerringly found the spot inside you that made you twist in his grip with the ease of long practice, and his jaw worked as he kissed you so shockingly filthily. You could feel something already starting to build up behind your navel, a fluttery lightness, an insatiable insistence on more.

“‘The basis a hidden Markov model—oh, fuck—such that the state space of the latent variables is continuous and all latent and observed variables have–ah!--Gaussian distributions,’’’ you recited, your voice tripping up further into a register that sounded more like begging than reading.

Izuku’s fingers worked you, long and thick and perfect inside you, as his tongue drew unrelenting circles around your clit. Stars seemed to spark in your vision, and your eyes squeezed shut, losing your place on the page as your hips flexed into his face. You felt suddenly very floaty and lightheaded, and not at all in a position to keep going.

Still, you tried to refocus your attention.

“‘K–Kalman filtering has been used successfully in—oh—multi-sensor fusion—ah, ah!--and distributed sensor networks–fuck, please, Izuku—to develop distributed or consensus Kalman f-filtering,’” you said, your tone nearly a cry.

Izuku groaned softly, sucking gently as his fingers curled inside you. It made your veins spark under your skin, your legs shaking in Izuku’s hands. You abandoned your grip on your book to seize the arm of the couch, clawing desperately at the fabric.

“Please, Izuku,” you cried, hips bucking towards his mouth.

The book tumbled off your stomach but you hardly noticed, gaze refocusing on the way his eyelashes fluttered as he licked you. His fingers played gently within you, a maddening press that was simultaneously too much and not enough, and his other hand came up to slide under your sweater, plucking gently at your nipple.

You lost yourself to the feeling—caught between the mind-melting curl of his fingers, the delicate suction of his mouth, and the careful pinch of your nipple. A delicious heat curled through you, waves of unbearable pleasure, and you could hear yourself babbling nonsense—garbled syllables of Izuku’s name, and every entreaty you could think of, a hundred thousands mores and oh pleases.

Izuku abandoned your nipple to pull you more firmly against him with a strong arm curled under your thigh, pressing you even harder into his mouth.

You muffled a scream in the sleeve of your sweater as he sucked you harder, tongue laving over you in loving strokes. Only his terrible strength held you down as you writhed beneath him, and then his fingers twisted in a way that had your vision whiting out—and you were suddenly thrown out over the edge of your pleasure.

Izuku licked you through it as you squirmed and begged and cried out his name, your climax seeming to last for eons.

You were panting hard when you finally slumped into the cushions of your couch, the ceiling seeming to swim in and out of focus before your eyes. When you gained enough control of your body again you looked down at Izuku, finding him watching you with a satisfied, almost shy curl to his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, emerald gaze glittering with sincerity. “You’re so smart.”

Impossibly you felt your heart swell with even more love for him, and you seized his shoulder, dragging him up over you so you could kiss his mouth. The taste of yourself on him was embarrassing yet thrilling, and you petted a pleased hand through Izuku’s wild mess of curls as you kissed him.

“Well you are amazing,” you told him, swiping a thumb over his cheek fondly, smoothing over his freckles. A gorgeous watercolor of pink washed over his cheeks and nose at the proclamation, and you could hear his fingers flex in the cushion beside your head.

The sight of him flushed and waiting over you like another small something inside of you, like a pilot light, and you let your mouth pull into a wry grin.

“I hope you know I learned nothing though,” you said casually, your plan for your next steps already forming in your head. You let a hand trail carefully down Izuku’s flank, tracking towards his waist. “I think maybe I might need a few rounds for it to really sink in.”

Izuku’s ears went red against the green of his hair, and you felt your smile widen. “Maybe you could read it to me this time?” you asked, guiding him to roll under you, retrieving your book from the floor as you did so.

You settled yourself on the tops of Izuku’s thighs, feeling the hard press of him against your core, as you placed your textbook into his waiting hands.

Izuku’s answering smile was all the permission you needed. You directed him to start from the beginning of the chapter, and he did so in that soft, lilting tone of his you so loved. And then your fingers trailed up to the zipper at his collar.

It was time to return the favor—wholeheartedly.

REFERENCES: Kalman Filtering (Wikipedia) I took the passages our Reader recited from here because I do not actually understand Kalman filtering at all and could not organically come up with feasible text for her to read through. Sorry in advance to the author of this page lol.

#deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoriya x you #deku x y/n #bnha x reader #fics for gaza #izuku x you

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teojira · 8 months ago

Note

I saw that you had transformers on your fandom list, will you be willing to write a 'bot of choice x human reader jealousy/protectiveness fic? Like in that one scene from Transformers 2 where the Deception Pretender tried to seduce Sam but Bee absolutely wasn't having that but had to stay in car mode?

[Aren't you supposed to be more mature than this?]

Summary: Optimus knows better than to get attached to you (too late), he can't help but side eye you and a stranger interacting. (Based on Knightverse Optimus, after ROTB!)

Word count: 800+ words!

Pronouns: They/them

Warnings: Optimus is bad at feelings, Optimus being down bad, extremely self indulgent. Mainly Optimus' Pov as well! Lmk if I need to tag anything!

A/N: Everyone who knows me knows of my obsession and love for this man it's so bad, I have him tattooed and have a whole ass shrine I love HIMMM, Thank you sm for the request! He is the love of my life.

Optimus Prime has been called many things, many of which are true, things he'd accept with pride.

A great leader, a good friend, a valuable teammate, A war criminal.

A jealous bot was never one of them, until recently.

He wasn't sure when he started to take a shine towards you. Was it after Unicron? When he held you in his servos, cradling you to his chest as he transformed back into his bipedal form, only letting go of you after the confused looks from Bee and Mirage.

Maybe it was a while after that, when you offered to help clean him up, Noah was too busy rebuilding Mirage to offer his services to the big man himself.

Optimus could never wipe the feeling of your small hands gently running across his frame, taking extra care to mend any scratches you found, constantly checking in to make sure he was comfortable.

He's ashamed to admit, but he kept shuddering under your touch, his senses overwhelmed by your presence. Every time his cooling fans turned on, he'd wave it off as it was just hot outside. (it's 60 degrees out, liar.)

He tries to recharge that night, but the feeling in his chassis makes him restless. He can see his sensors go haywire at the mere thought of you. He is so fucked, he shuts his eyes and groans deeply, his mask shooting up to mask the sound, lest he wakes the others.

Primus help him.

With his new revelation, Optimus tries his best to distance himself towards you, always making excuses as to why he can't drive you home or to work (a flicker of jealously when Arcee offers, no one catches his digits curling ever so slightly into his palm), saying he must go on patrol for the time being. He waves you off when you try and care for him, asking if he'd like any help with any scrapes and dents, saying he can live with them, he's been through worse.

Its only natural that you'd give him some space, that's the kind of person you are, kind, loving, respectful, loyal to a fault, but it doesn't escape his notice when your smile falls after he politely tells you you're not needed, his spark aching when you turn around to go find another bot.

Optimus watches you now, stationed on the street.

He has no right to be upset when you're stopped outside of the garage by an older man, the man so clearly taking interest in you while you're very politely listening and nodding, shooting that oh so pretty smile to a man who he's sure is not fit to be anywhere near you, not worthy of the warm smile you wear.

It makes him seethe in jealousy, and it's scary.

He can not remember a time when he had ever been jealous. He's a prime. He was supposed to be a calm and collected leader and yet. And yet, he's so close to blowing his hor-

You suddenly whirl towards him. If he was any better of a man, he wouldn't immediately think of how cute you looked, how your lips moved as you let out a yelp.

It isn't until that thought passes his mind that he realizes he used his truckers horn. Embarrassment trickles through his body, although now he has your attention, and you are making your way towards him. The man following behind you keeps the conversation going, not catching a hint.

Optimus is ready to honk again, especially if this man keeps following so close behind you, way too close for comfort.

You beat him to it, turning around as you rest a hand on Optimus’ cabins door handle, shooting the man a polite smile.

“Sorry about that, but my husband is actually here to pick me up, so I have to go. Have a good day!” And You hoist yourself up, quickly buckling your seat belt, gently patting the dashboard in hopes Optimus fucking drives before you're bothered anymore.

Optimus’ processor buffers, his engine revving as he goes on autopilot to tale you both away. Does he know where to drive to? Certainly no, but you're with him now. He's sure you could ask him to take you to distant planets, and he'd make it work for you and only you.

“Thank you for the save, big guy.” You smile brightly at his steering wheel, your eyes lovingly trailing across the autobot symbol that sits in the center.

“It was nothing, I am glad to be there to assist.” The cabin rumbles with his voice, soothing your anxiety. You curl into your seat, resting your head.

“Where are we going?”

“If I'm not mistaken, you mentioned wanting to go to upstate New York to drive along some scenic routes? I'll gladly be your escort.”

He is so ridiculously falling for you, but he can't bring himself to hate it, especially when you excitedly hop in your seat.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

#can you tell im up his ass #Optimus is one of my top 5 characters ever i am married to him actually #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #gender neutral reader #teddy loves bots ☆#optimus prime #transformers knightverse #tf knightverse #Optimus x reader

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 5 months ago

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The Telling Truth: When 'Show, Don't Tell' Doesn't Apply (You Don't Always Have To Show, Don't Tell.)

Hey there, fellow writers and beloved members of the writeblr community! 📝✨

Today, I want to talk about something that's been on my mind lately, and I have a feeling it might resonate with many of you too. It's about that age-old writing advice we've all heard a million times: "Show, don't tell." Now, don't get me wrong – it's great advice, and it has its place in our writing toolbox. But here's the thing: it's not the be-all and end-all of good writing. In fact, I'd argue that sometimes, it's perfectly okay – even necessary – to tell rather than show.

First things first, let's address the elephant in the room. The "show, don't tell" rule has been drilled into our heads since we first picked up a pen (or opened a Word document) with the intention of writing creatively. It's been repeated in writing workshops, creative writing classes, and countless craft books. And for good reason! Showing can create vivid, immersive experiences for readers, allowing them to feel like they're right there in the story.

But here's where things get a bit tricky: like any rule in writing (or in life, for that matter), it's not absolute. There are times when telling is not just acceptable, but actually preferable. And that's what you all will explore today in this hopefully understandable blog post.

Let's start by breaking down why "show, don't tell" is so popular. When we show instead of tell, we're engaging the reader's senses and emotions. We're painting a picture with words, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions based on the details we provide. It's a powerful technique that can make our writing more engaging and memorable.

For example, instead of saying "Sarah was angry," we might write, "Sarah's fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tight as she glared at the broken vase." This gives the reader a clearer image and allows them to infer Sarah's emotional state.

But here's the thing: sometimes, we don't need or want that level of detail. Sometimes, efficiency in storytelling is more important than painting an elaborate picture. And that's where telling comes in handy.

Imagine if every single emotion, action, or piece of information in your story was shown rather than told. Your novel would probably be thousands of pages long, and your readers might get lost in the sea of details, losing sight of the main plot or character arcs.

So, when might telling be more appropriate? Let's explore some scenarios:

Summarizing less important events: If you're writing a story that spans a long period, you don't need to show every single day or event. Telling can help you summarize periods of time or less crucial events quickly, allowing you to focus on the more important parts of your story.

For instance: "The next few weeks passed in a blur of exams and late-night study sessions." This sentence tells us what happened without going into unnecessary detail about each day.

Providing necessary background information: Sometimes, you need to give your readers some context or backstory. While you can certainly weave this information into scenes, there are times when a straightforward telling of facts is more efficient.

Example: "The war had been raging for three years before Sarah's village was attacked." This quickly gives us important context without needing to show the entire history of the war.

Establishing pace and rhythm: Alternating between showing and telling can help you control the pace of your story. Showing tends to slow things down, allowing readers to immerse themselves in a moment. Telling can speed things up, moving the story along more quickly when needed.

Clarifying complex ideas or emotions: Some concepts or feelings are abstract or complex enough that showing alone might not suffice. In these cases, a bit of telling can help ensure your readers understand what's happening.

For example: "The quantum entanglement theory had always fascinated John, but explaining it to others often left him feeling frustrated and misunderstood." Here, we're telling the reader about John's relationship with this complex scientific concept, which might be difficult to show effectively.

Maintaining your narrative voice: Sometimes, telling is simply more in line with your narrative voice or the tone of your story. This is especially true if you're writing in a more direct or conversational style.

Now, I can almost hear some of you saying, "But wait! I've always been told that showing is always better!" And I completely get it. I'm a writer myself and prioritize "Show, Don't tell." in my writing all the time. We've been conditioned to believe that showing is superior in all cases. But we can take a moment to challenge that notion.

Think about some of your favorite books. Chances are, they use a mix of showing and telling. Even the most critically acclaimed authors don't adhere strictly to "show, don't tell" all the time. They understand that good writing is about balance and knowing when to use each technique effectively.

Take, for instance, the opening line of George Orwell's "1984": "It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." This is a perfect blend of showing and telling. Orwell shows us it's a bright, cold day (we can imagine the crisp air and clear sky), but he tells us about the clocks striking thirteen. This immediate telling gives us crucial information about the world we're entering – it's not quite like our own.

Or consider this passage from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice": "Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character." Here, Austen is clearly telling us about Mr. Bennet's character rather than showing it through his actions. And yet, it works beautifully, giving us a quick, clear insight into both Mr. Bennet and his wife.

The key is to use both techniques strategically. So, how can you decide when to show and when to tell? Here are some tips:

Consider the importance of the information: Is this a crucial moment in your story, a pivotal emotion, or a key piece of character development? If so, it might be worth showing. If it's more of a transitional moment or background information, telling might be more appropriate.

Think about pacing: If you want to slow down and really immerse your reader in a moment, show it. If you need to move things along more quickly, tell it.

Evaluate the complexity: If you're dealing with a complex emotion or concept, consider whether showing alone will be enough to convey it clearly. Sometimes, a combination of showing and telling works best for complex ideas.

Consider your word count: If you're working with strict word count limitations (like in short stories or flash fiction), telling can help you convey necessary information more concisely.

Trust your instincts (Important): As you write more, you'll develop a feel for when showing or telling works better. Trust your gut, and don't be afraid to experiment.

Now, let's talk about how to tell effectively when you do choose to use it. Because here's the thing: telling doesn't have to be boring or flat. It can be just as engaging and stylish as showing when done well. Here are some tips for effective telling:

Use strong, specific language: Instead of using vague or generic words, opt for more specific, evocative language. For example, instead of "She was sad," you might write, "A profound melancholy settled over her."

Incorporate sensory details: Even when telling, you can include sensory information to make it more vivid. "The room was cold" becomes more engaging as "A bone-chilling cold permeated the room."

Use metaphors and similes: These can help make your telling more colorful and memorable. "His anger was like a volcano ready to erupt" paints a vivid picture without showing the anger in action.

Keep it concise: One of the advantages of telling is its efficiency. Don't negate that by being overly wordy. Get to the point, but do it with style.

Vary your sentence structure: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more flowing ones to create rhythm and maintain interest.

Remember, the goal is to create a seamless narrative that engages your reader. Sometimes that means showing, sometimes it means telling, and often it means a artful blend of both.

It's also worth noting that different genres and styles of writing may lean more heavily on one technique or the other. Literary fiction often employs more showing, delving deep into characters' psyches and painting elaborate scenes. Genre fiction, on the other hand, might use more telling to keep the plot moving at a brisker pace. Neither approach is inherently better – it all depends on what works best for your story and your style.

Now, I want to address something that I think many of us struggle with: the guilt or anxiety we might feel when we catch ourselves telling instead of showing. It's easy to fall into the trap of second-guessing every sentence, wondering if we should be showing more. But here's the truth: that kind of constant self-doubt can be paralyzing and ultimately detrimental to your writing process.

So, I want you to understand and think: It's okay to tell sometimes. You're not a bad writer for using telling in your work. In fact, knowing when and how to use telling effectively is a sign of a skilled writer.

Here's some practical ways to incorporate this mindset into your writing process:

First Draft Freedom: When you're writing your first draft, give yourself permission to write however it comes out. If that means more telling than showing, that's absolutely fine. The important thing is to get the story down. You can always revise and add more "showing" elements later if needed.

Revision with Purpose: When you're revising, don't automatically change every instance of telling to showing. Instead, ask yourself: Does this serve the story better as telling or showing? Consider the pacing, the importance of the information, and how it fits into the overall narrative.

Beta Readers and Feedback: When you're getting feedback on your work, pay attention to how readers respond to different sections. If they're engaged and understanding the story, then your balance of showing and telling is probably working well, regardless of which technique you're using more.

Study Your Favorite Authors: Take some time to analyze how your favorite writers use showing and telling. You might be surprised to find more instances of effective telling than you expected.

Practice Both Techniques (Important): Set aside some time to practice both showing and telling. Write the same scene twice, once focusing on showing and once on telling. This can help you develop a feel for when each technique is most effective.

Now, let's address another important point: the evolution of writing styles and reader preferences. The "show, don't tell" rule gained popularity in the early 20th century with the rise of modernist literature. But writing styles and reader tastes have continued to evolve since then.

In our current fast-paced world, where people are often reading on devices and in shorter bursts, there's sometimes a preference for more direct, efficient storytelling. This doesn't mean that showing is out of style, but it does mean that there's often room for more telling than strict adherence to "show, don't tell" would allow.

Moreover, diverse voices in literature are challenging traditional Western writing norms, including the emphasis on showing over telling. Some cultures have strong storytelling traditions that lean more heavily on telling, and as the literary world becomes more inclusive, we're seeing a beautiful variety of styles that blend showing and telling in new and exciting ways.

This brings me to an important point: your voice matters. Your unique way of telling stories is valuable. Don't let rigid adherence to any writing rule, including "show, don't tell," stifle your natural voice or the story you want to tell.

Remember, rules in writing are more like guidelines. They're tools to help us improve our craft, not unbreakable laws. The most important rule is to engage your reader and tell your story effectively. If that means more telling than the conventional wisdom suggests, then so be it.

As I wrap up this discussion, I want to leave you with a challenge: In your next writing session, consciously use both showing and telling. Pay attention to how each technique feels, how it serves your story, and how it affects the rhythm of your writing. You might discover new ways to blend these techniques that work perfectly for your unique style.

Writing is an art, not a science. There's no perfect formula, no one-size-fits-all approach. It's about finding what works for you, your story, and your readers. So embrace both showing and telling. Use them as the powerful tools they are, and don't be afraid to break the "rules" when your instincts tell you to.

Remember, every great writer started where you are now, learning the rules and then figuring out when and how to break them effectively. You're part of a long, proud tradition of storytellers, each finding their own path through the winding forest of words.

Keep writing, keep growing, and keep believing in yourself. You've got this!

Happy writing! 💖✍️ - Rin T.

Before you go, why not join us at The Write Right Society? We're a supportive Tumblr community where writers lift each other up. Whether you're a newbie or a pro, we'd love to have you! Share your work, get feedback, and connect with fellow wordsmiths, writers and aspiring authors.

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hauntedrain · 11 months ago

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For Years! | Max Verstappen x Reader |

Social media AU Summary: Max and reader get criticism over the status of their relationship.

✮▹ A/N: So sorry for not posting for so long. Life has been BUSY. but hopefully i can post more and write more! Love you guys <3

✰▹Warnings/Notices: Not edited. nothing really. reader mentioned to write music

Liked by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, & 3,345,678 others

@Y/N: Lovely time lately.

view all 19,234 comments

user1: LMFAO MAX.

user2: Y/N you'll always been iconic

user3: sometimes I forget Max Verstappen is dating THE Y/N L/N.

↪ user4: SO TRUE. It completely passes my mind that they've been together before he even got to F1.

↪ user5: THEY'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR 9 YEARS?

↪ user6: YEA ITS WILD.

↪ user7: wait but they haven't gotten married or anything?

↪ user8: Yea no. They also avoid the questions around it. Kind of weird to me.

↪ user9: But hasn't Y/N written songs about marriage and getting married? Why haven't they?

↪ user10: Maybe they just don't want to. Or max doesn't.

MaxVerstappen: Why did you choose that photo of me.

↪ Y/N: You want me to post the photo from yesterday?

↪ MaxVerstappen: NO.

↪ user11: LMFAO. PARENTS.

Liked by Y/N, Redbull, & 2,345,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: Great race and great win! Getting ready for next week. And thank you to @Y/N for making me but those glasses, best purchase.

View all 14,567 comments

Y/N: I told you they were a good investment

↪ MaxVerstappen: I don't know if you would call it an investment.

↪ Y/N: I'll post that picture.

↪MaxVerstappen: It was a great investment! better than a house!

↪ user12: better than a ring?

↪ user13: STOP. but no fr, wheres the ring Max?

user14: Okay nice win but when yall getting married?

user15: everyone needs to mind their business, maybe they're just not ready to get married and that okay.

↪ user16: But its been 9 YEARS. NINE YEARS. Its a red flag.

liked by 18,234 others

@F1GOSSIP: Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N have been criticized over the status of their relationship. The couple has been together for over 9 years however many fans have realized that there's been no movement in the relationship, family and marriage vise. Thought?

view all 5,567 comments

user17: I mean its their life but 9 years?

user18: Idk guys don't hate me but sometimes max doesn't seem interested in Y/N. Like all of the Monaco GP? seem happy around her.

↪ user19: Bro look at the pictures in the post. Does he seem unhappy in them? No he seems very happy.

↪ user20: Okay but lets be honest. Both only seem that happy in front of a camera.

User21: I mean for some of their relationship they were fairly young. Maybe they just wanna enjoy it little by little.

↪ user22: I think in 9 years you can enjoy a lot.

user23: I wouldn't marry her either. Max knows what's best which is why he hasn't done it.

Y/N has posted to their story!

liked by 6,678,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: happy 3 year anniversary @Y/N. love you much and cant wait for years to come. Also, people said I hated her? How could I?

view all 35,567,878 comments

Y/N: Guys my husband is kinda cool.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Kinda?

↪ Y/N: yea cuz im cooler than you.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Okay love.

user24: WTF 3 YEARS?

user25: max said hold my 3x WDC titles while I make everyone shut up about my relationship.

↪ Y/N: He just wins everything doesn't he?

↪ CharlesLeclerc: Yea its kinda annoying. you should distract him Y/N

↪ MaxVerstappen: Dont tell my wife to distract me, I'll lose.

↪ CharlesLeclerc: thats the point.

↪ LandoNorris: I just wanna win.

↪ user26: LMFAO WHAT IS HAPPENING

↪ Y/N: Im collecting them all

User27: And people said max didnt wanna marry her.

user28: Bro just keeps winning doesnt he. Y/N GIVE ME A CHANCE.

user29: if you look closely you can see me getting run over by an F1 car.

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: I hope you guys like it! I need to post more but ive gotten so busy and haven't had the time. But I'll try to post more often. Love you guys! hope you enjoyed.

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lndsismaeverything · 2 months ago

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Lnds being a girl dad

Decided to write it down because I'm bored 🥱 here is my list of ideas that can use but just tag me on it so I can also enjoy the story

Xavier :

Calls your daughter lil princess

Has his hair color and your eyes. Inherited his cute lil pout

Xavier would totally get everything his lil princess wants. Want that new toy? Or how about the new plushie at the arcade machine? Sure, he'll get it right away

Xavier would love to read bed time stories to his daughter every night. Turning off the light while turning on the fairy lights acting as twinkling like stars in the night sky in your daughter room.

He definitely built a fort for her

Has two pets rabbits named Mr.Bunbun and Mrs.Bunbun ( they are married in your daughter mind )and one goldfish named Goldie had Goldie replace every month bec it keeps dying because of your clueless daughter that keep killing the fish

"Daddy why is Goldie floating? " your daughter said curiously " it's because he's taking his afternoon naps , and time for yours too " Xavier lifted his lil princess, carrying her too her room. After she's asleep Xavier calls you " we need another goldfish" he scratches his head " what is it this time?" You asked on there other line " she put a heater in the thank to keep him warm "you sigh, a hand on your hip as you told him frustrated " I told you not to give her a goldfish, poor fish "

He could tell his daughter the truth but couldn't stand to break her lil heart. And it isn't that he didn't keep an eye on her while she played with the fish it's just he took a 5 minutes nap , it wouldn't hurt right? Well that proofed him wrong...

Would like to bake cookies with her ( with you watching them of course )

Would miss his lil princess and you too during every mission . He can't wait to go home to his loving family

If you both are given a mission and both of u can't look after your daughter, she gladly stay with uncle Jeremiah. During the stay with her uncle she learns some gardening skills and is pretty good at taking care of plants

Xavier is of course jealous of Jeremiah, seeing his daughter talking about how the few days has been with her favorite uncle

" princess who do u like more your dad or your stupid uncle Jeremiah? " he said serious

" daddy don't say that about uncle Jeremiah! " good thing she has your personality always ready to defend the person she care and love. But Xavier couldn't help feel his heart ache but also feel proud, his lil princess stood up for his uncle but going against her dad

" uncle Jeremiah is a great uncle and smart tooo ! He's not stupid " she said to her dad " uncle Jeremiah is my favorite uncle! But you are my dad and the best daddy I could ask for "

You ended up ending the recording to Jeremiah to let him witness this scene too

Zayne

His office would be also his daughter office. After school your daughter would walk to Akso hospital since the kindergarten isn't far from the hospital just a 5min walk. But sometimes zayne would be free , so he would pick up his daughter if he didn't had a appointment at that time.

also would occasionally ( almost everytime he pick up his daughter ) bring your daughter to the bakery next a few buildings from the kindergarten .

Inherited his father's sweet tooth

Also hates the dentist

He will watch his daughter sit in his office doing her homework in her lil desk next to him. Also has a picture frame of the family photo that you didn't take a few days ago

The reason why zayne daughter would be at his work is because sometimes you can't pick up your daughter during the day is because your busy with mission and work.

After work you pick up your daughter at your husband work " bye daddy see you soon " she waved and your husband nodded " see you at home "

But sometimes zayne would come home late at night and your daughter would already be asleep by then. Also the reason why she likes going to her dad work place, is to spend time with him when at night she bearly see him or spend time with

When zayne would have a surgery your daughter would patiently do her homework ,if she's done she would go around the hospital lobby and talk to the nurses and doctors

The nurses and doctors love your cute lil daughter

" oh how she looks like Dr. Zayne so much "

" she also has Dr. Zayne calm expression "

Your daughter would have a personal ID badge hanging around her neck that you help her make . Just letting the other nurses and doctors know that she Dr.zayne daughter and not a lost kid

Zayne would double check himself if he has any blood on himself or the smell of blood on him before going to see his daughter after the surgery

Zayne can't help it if his daughter ask for another piece of his macarons " ok, you can have another one but just dont tell your mom. You can it have a maximum of 3 per day and you already have 5 "

"but daddy the same goes for you too and your already have 6 !" Your husband chuckled "alright this will be our lil secret"

" what little secrets ?" You lean against the doorframe , folding your arms as you watch both of them eating, almost finishing dozen macarons

Girl dad zayne would deny that he always saying yes to his daughter " oh really? What about last week Saturday? U said no more sugar but you bought her a snow cone" you tease your husband

" daddy can I have that snow cone? It's a double scoop and it looks like a snowman ! And best of all I can share with you ! "

" at least she has a good reason " your husband replied pushing his glasses to the brim of is node" oh just admit it Dr.zayne ~ "he smile and looked at your sleeping daughter on his office couch

Rafayell

Would spoil his lil sea guppy rotten

" daddy can I have a pony? " already bought one a few seconds ago when he say her drawing a pony. Bought a pony the same as the drawing

Want some plushies? No worries he called Thomas to get her the most cutest plushy and limited to edition

But your daughter love the plushies her had won for her at the arcade especially the pufferfish and the birb

Would teach your daughter about lemurians language. Also tell her stories about the lemurians

" daddy do you think I can turn my legs into a lemurian fish tailtoo? " her eyes sparked looking at her dad

" of course you can. You are half lemurian and human after all " rafayell ruffled her hair

The day she transformed into a lamurian in the bathtub is the day rafayell cheered for her because he didn't know if she could actually turn her legs into a fish tail

Would take her to the beach so she can swim in the ocean and get used to the salty waters . But also for some family fun time

You joined them watching how rafayell teach your daughter to swim in her new found form. You don't have a fish tail but you can still breath under water because of the sea god. It was fun watching your daughter struggle a bit

" hold my hand it be easier for your to balance yourself " your husband hold your daughter hand preventting from her turning upside down

" ugh, daddy this is worst then learning how to ride a bike! " your daughter wine, you couldn't help but laugh at them

Rafayell would bring your daughter to the art exhibit .

Also have a painting named after her and inspired by her . But that isn't for sale that's for the living room at home

Your daughter has a lot of dresses like a lot and same for shoes and jewelry. Rafayell like to dress his daughter up

First class trips with her daddy

Rafayell would definitely ride his sports car to pick her up at kindergarten.

" now wheres my little guppy? " he said standing at the door from the class she's in " daddy ! "

Sylus

Would let your daughter go on busssnins meeting with him because she asked him. At first he said no because it's a dangerous mission . But your daughter is cunning which she got from you of course " but I have daddy to protect me there, he's the strongest and he's the best so nothing will happen to me " that boosted his ego

You where furious when you found out that your husband took your daughter to a dangerous meeting that ended blowing up the whole building " but sweetie, it's nothing I can't handle, she save and onharmed "

" you let her hold a gun."

" that's because she hated the merchant " sylus said confidently

Looks like onychinus had a new leader soon after her dad step down

Would let her dress Mephisto up

Sylus would teach your daughter some boxing moves

Would try to fit all of you guys in his motorcycle , your daughter in front , placing her hand on the handle while your husband hand on top of hers and you always being sylus backpack

Would have customized helmets with your names on it

Sylus would let her daughter play with his hair and stick some stickers on him and if he feels generous ( which he is toward you and your daughter ) he'll even let your daughter put make up on him

Luke and Kieran would be the best uncles . Would like to join her uncles with pranks

Love doing karaoke with her dad .both can't sing well and are death ears

Sylus would buy the whole arcade just for her daughter

Plays kitty cards with your daughter and always lose on purpose

Sylus is definitely the type to give anything her daughter fancies. She looked firearm for 5 second? Is already here with her name on it of course with no bullets . Or else he wouldn't have hear the end of it from you

Would definitely sign a no boyfriend till your married

Like and karien are your daughter personal bodyguards

Would prepare a fancy ball for her birthday

Would play the piano for her also teaching her some keys

End up hitting the post button while middle way writing 😅sorry for grammar mistakes and words.

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ellecdc · 2 months ago

Note

Elle I saw the new requests and immediately got soooooo excited I check tumblr like 5 times a day just to read what you write lol. Anyways can I request from ☃️ baby it’s cold outside

“Just for once why don’t you wear some thing of mine” with Barty x potter reader where Barty always love to see her in his clothes so she gives him a shirt of hers but because he’s so tall it’s more like a crop top but he actually likes it lol?

hahaha soooo cute! thanks for the prompt <3

the winter games

Barty Crouch Jr x fem!reader who convinced him to wear her clothes for once [470 words]

CW: talk about patriarchy, misogyny, gender norms, Shania Twain

“It’s cold out, Treasure.” Barty said absently; not breaking his gaze from the mirror as he fixed his hair, though he no doubt saw you appear in the reflection. “Why don’t you put on my flannel?”

You let out a petulant moan. “It won’t go with my outfit, Barty.”

He offered you a sympathetic pout in turn. “But you always look so cute wearing my clothes.”

“That’s really what this was about, wasn’t it?” You teased. “I bet it’s not even that cold outside.”

“It’s a little cold.”

“The party is inside, Barty.” You chided.

“What if someone forgets we’re together? Hm? Then they see this beautiful little minx and make a move on you. Actually, Treasure, that would be a great injustice to all the unsuspecting blokes; you ought to warn them you have a boyfriend who’s sort of crazy.”

He seemed pleased by the cackle that elicited from you. “What about me!?”

“How do you mean?” He asked simply.

“Well? You never wear my clothes! Just for once, why don’t you wear something of mine?”

Barty was quiet for a moment as he considered you. “You know what? You’re entirely right. Wow, how’s that for the fucking patriarchy, huh? Well, no time like the present, I suppose.”

Barty continued mumbling to himself about internalised misogyny and disassembling the patriarchy and gender norms as he sifted through the wardrobe.

You perched on the edge of the bed as he searched, smiling at the excited “aha!” before Barty emerged victorious.

Standing in the middle of your bedroom was your boyfriend - who has a longer torso than you do, mind you - donned in one of your favourite cropped pullover jumpers with Shania Twain’s famous line “let’s go girls” embroidered in cursive.

“Treasure.” Barty breathed out as he looked at himself in the mirror. “Oh my god.”

“What?” You laughed as you came to stand behind him; both your profiles in the mirror as he regarded himself.

“Is this what people mean when they say someone has a slutty man waist?”

You were so caught off guard by the laugh that bubbled out of you that you nearly choked on it.

“Yes, Barty; I think this is what constitutes a slutty man waist.”

“And you’ve been hiding your cropped tops from me all this time.” He shook his head in disbelief. “For shame, Treasure.”

“Barty!”

“We’re almost late, babes!” He interrupted, turning you away from the mirror and shuffling you out of the room and towards the door. “Best get on the road, show everyone what they’ve been missing!”

His waist, you’re sure, is what everyone’s been missing.

“It’s cold out, Bee.” You offered solemnly. “Why don’t you put on a flannel?”

You giggled the whole way to the party at the way he scowled and accused you of ruining his aesthetic.

#elle's cold #marauders era #marauders au #reader insert #self insert #marauders fanfiction #barty gate #bartyholics anonymous #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch jr imagine #barty crouch jr fic #barty crouch jr fluff #barty crouch jr drabble #barty crouch jr blurb #ellecdc fics

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lcriedlastnight · 6 months ago

Note

Y/n thinks Lando slept with someone else and they have a big fight about it, only for y/n to learn Lando needed help proposing

as soon as i seen this in my inbox i got excited to write it! thank you anon, it's a great idea!

tw: fem!reader, swears, sneaky lando but i'm sure you know where it's going based on the ask, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1.8k

lando has been acting very suspicious lately. at first you has brushed it off to busy weeks filled with important racing duties but when he was still secretive after a lovely spa day you had set for him at your apartment, you knew something was up. the night of the spa day you were laying in bed with lando and usually if he's forgotten to set an alarm for the next morning, he will ask you to just go onto his phone and set it for him, so when he asks you to hand his phone over so he can set an alarm? well it sets off your own alarm bells in your head.

lando had never ever hidden his phone from you, always completely open with you and willing to scroll through his phone if you wanted to. you had never felt the need to but sometimes you liked to scroll through his photos and have him explain them to you.

you did not say anything to him about it that night, or afterwards but you kept a note of things you found suspicious or weird or even just a little out or character for your boyfriend, knowing that if the time came where you found out something you could not even think about then you had have evidence. if you had more guts you would have asked to scroll through his phone that night to see what he did but you did not want to fight after such a lovely day. maybe you were just postponing the inevitble.

the next time you had written down in your notes was a doosy. you had gone out to lunch with a few of your friends and lando had offered to drop you off and pick you up once you had all caught up. you had gotten ready and lando had dropped you off with a sweet kiss goodbye and promises of picking you up whenever you wanted to come home, you were just to give him a call. you grin and agree as you close the car door and make your way to the table your friends had sat at. it seemed you were the last one to arrive.

it is only when you have sat down and gotten comfortable that you realise, your best friend is not here.

"hey, where is lacy?" you ask the group, confused as last night when you were all confirming in the group chat if you guys could make it or not, lacy was the first one to confirm.

everyone mutters that they are not sure or that they thought she mus be running later. you all shrug and you try to forget about it but you have a lingering feeling in the back of your mind. it is a bit big to push all the way to the back of your mind but a few drinks and a gossip with your friends would do the trick.

you guys chat away and drink through three or four rounds. none of you drunk, really but none of you even thinking about drinking and driving. everyone had sorted out how they were getting home before coming. "responsible group of girls." you had joked when you had asked about it and they had all told you they had a way home.

everyone texts their lifts home as you head to the foyer where it is a bit quieter and call lando. it send you to voicemail. you try him again but it does the same thing, ringing until the voicemail blared in your ears. you were pissed off to say the least. you did not mind if he wanted to go out and do things without you but do not promise you will pick someone up if you will not be back in time! is that not just common courtesy?

you ask one of the girls if her boyfriend can take you home and she says it is no problem. you are embarrassed because you are just after bragging about how amazing lando was and now here you were... getting proved wrong.

good job you remembered to bring a key with you so you did not get locked outside. you thank your friend's boyfriend as you get out your car and see lando's car parked in front of the apartment complex.

you stomp into the apartment and throw your keys down on the table in the hallway.

"thanks for remembering to pick me up lando! i had to get a ride with micheal and amy!" you shout as you pull your trainers off and put them in the rack. you walk into the living room to see lando on the couch and lacy in the kitchen, making tea.

"what the fuck?" you ask, internally freaking out but not showing it. this paired with your suspicions that lando was cheating send your brain into panic mode. instead of freaking out and jumping to conclusions you ask "why weren't you at lunch? and why are you here now?".

lando could tell you were pissed and at this point, he felt like saying he was cheating would be the easier option, rather than hiding all of this from you. he hated lying to you. the boy had literally never done it before. you could tell from how sloppy he was, this being a prime example.

"i couldn't make it to lunch in the end. you know that boy i've been talking to? he asked me out on a date and i just couldn't say no." lacy explained, handing you a cup. her explanation did not ease your worry though, lando could easily be the boy she was talking to and they have went on a date when you were busy out with your friends.

"i came over to tell you about it but i forgot you were out at lunch with the girls. i've only been here like ten minutes." lacy adds, lando nods on the couch not really doing much. you decide to believe them but you put it in your notes. lando and lacy out together? while i'm with my friends. lando cheating on me with lacy???

you end up taking that out of your notes a few weeks later. you lay in bed while lando is in the shower and you think that now is a good time to go through your notes, thinking about things you could add or take away and if it all still makes sense in your mind.

as your sorting through the semi-long list you make you lando's voice. you had not realised the shower had stopped. at first you think he is talking to you so you are about to shout back when you hear the distant sound of someone speaking through the phone. not to sound like you were accusing your boyfriend of cheating but it sounded like a girl. it sounded like a girl you did not know.

"i can't tell her. it's stressing me out to no end. i just want to be done with it now." you strain to hear his hushed words, done with what? tell who? you? why was he stressed?

you are tired of all the secrets. the hushed conversations, lando hiding things from you. you do not think you can deal with it anymore.

once lando is off the phone he makes is way into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. "hi, baby." lando acknowledges you as you lay on the bed. the towel around his waist distracted you for a moment before you got your mind back on track. it helped that he had gotten changed into some pyjama trousers, although his abs were still on display.

"are you cheating on me?" you just come out and say it, you voice is a little worried. lando drops the towel in his hands at your words.

"am i what?" lando stares at you. "is this one of those tiktok trends? what am i supposed to say that will get the most views. where's your phone we can start again?" lando glances around the room for your phone. he thinks this is a joke. a tiktok prank. you does not think you are distressed over this.

"i'm serious lando. you've been acting weird for a while now." you tell him your frown deep as you speak.

lando is surprised and practically leaps towards you.

"i'm not cheating on you. i swear to you. i would never even think about hurting you like that." lando swears his hands holding your face gently to stop you from avoiding his eyes.

"then what are you doing? because you're acting weird. you're not acting like you. i miss the old you, when you didn't set your own alarms." you pout at him.

lando sighs. "i guess i'm gonna have to tell you, huh?" the driver asks. you are confused as he gets off the bed and walks over to your dressing table. on top there is a small dish where you keep all the rings you wear when they are not on your fingers. you prefer the dish to a box, it is less work to get to them. lando calls it lazy but you call it time efficient. he grabs the one your grandma got you for christmas back when you were still at school. it is old and most of the rose gold plating has come off, the colour does not match with the rest of your jewellery but you wear it everyday.

it is quick and sudden the way he is standing in front of you a few steps away from the bed, then he is on one knee holding out the ring. "the ring i was gonna use isn't here yet because you're too impatient for me to do anything properly. i had a whole day planned out, you know?" lando is joking with you but there is nothing in you that wants to laugh right now.

your hand slapped over your mouth as you feel your eyes well up with tears.

"what are you doing?" you ask him, it is muffled from your hand but lando can make you out.

"what's it look like? i'm proposing. will you marry me please, baby?" he asks the old ring sits in between your fingers as you stare at him, tears finally falling.

"yeah." you murmur.

"yeah?" lando asks, a little cocky but mostly to make sure.

you nod frantically, lando takes your right hand and slides the ring on your middle finger (it is where you usually wear the ring. you honestly cannot believe he even knows where it goes). you then jump towards him, arms swinging around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

lando's lips mould over yours as he you kiss him frantically. the kiss is cut short because lando can not stop laughing.

"why're you laughing?" you ask him, smile plastered on your face from his laughter.

"just can't believe i get to love you for the rest of my life. i can't wait." you kiss him again.

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sohighonuu · 3 months ago

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god’s favorite. ♱

pairing. charlie mayhew x poc!fem reader ᡣ𐭩

synopsis. charlie begins to want the new church comer .ᐟ

serenaaa’s note. i kinda wanna make this is series yall 😭 also first time writing smth ? lmk how i did !

warnings. a little suggestive? ˎˊ˗

THE FIRST TIME CHARLIE saw her was when she stepped into the church with her parents. she had a smile on her face, a light pink dress with a small design of flowers on it, and a silver cross necklace around her neck.

she looked perfect.

he immediately took the chance to speak to her when her parents walked away to mingle with other church goers. " hi, welcome.. " he left space for her to say her name.

" y/n, hi. " " that’s a beautiful name." he said, making her smile.

she giggled as she looked down at her feet bashfully. " thank you.. " she mimicked him, also leaving room for his name.

" charlie, charlie mayhew. " she nodded as she repeated it over and over in her head, remembering it.

" is this your first time? " " hm? oh! is it my first time here? yes— yes it is. " She smiled.

god, her smile. it made him forget about everything in the world.

" well, i have to go but welcome! and i’ll be seeing you, y/n. " He winked at her before turning his back to her and walking away. She smiled as she recalled the interaction.

and everyday after that he’d always find a chance to talk to her.

after a while, they became quite close friends.

charlie sits in the booth, as he waits for her, she’s been on his mind so much these days. the bells on the door chime as she walks in. while she’s walking to the booth, her heels click against the floor.

" hi, father. how are you? " she asks with a grin. " great, now that you’re here. "

' is he flirting with me? ' she thinks. her lips tug into a smile at the thought.

" i’m glad you asked to take me out, it seems we haven’t talked much lately. " she sighs softly. " i know, i’m sorry sweetheart. the church has really been occupying my time. " his eyebrows knit together as he looks at her pout.

" it’s okay.. at least we’re out now! " she perks back up. he smiles slightly as he just watches her speak about things.

she’s so pure. but for some reason, he can’t get the thought of taking her home with him and devouring her out of his head.

he takes in a breath before speaking, his eyes focused on only her. " do you want to come back to my house with me? "

" yes, of course, father. "

#charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #poc reader #nicholas chavez #church #grotesquerie #suggestive #nicholas chavez x reader #father charlie mayhew #nicholas chavez imagine #charlie mayhew imagine

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miumura · 4 months ago

Text

CALLS OF CONVENIENCE⌇P. SUNGHOON ✶

( 📞 ) NOW RINGING » Park Sunghoon, an office worker with an odd knack for finding problems, has been calling you for assistance non-stop to address various issues in his office. Naturally, since it’s your job, you always stop by, but you’ve noticed that his problems are often simple to fix and don’t really require any help. So, it’s hard not to suspect that he’s just making excuses to see you.

Whether it’s a computer “glitch” or a “misplaced” file, Sunghoon’s requests for you seem more like opportunities for a chat than genuine emergencies.

PAIRING ✶ office-worker!sunghoon x assistant-fem!reader GENRE ✶ fluff, co-workers 2 lovers FEATURING ✶ jay from enhypen WARNINGS ✶ reader questions / teases sunghoon quite a bit, super obvious hoon 🫡 WORD COUNT ✶ 2.4K+

PICK UP? » this was inspired by something i had seen on tiktok … bits of it never left my mind since … all credits to it because that fueled me to write !! and i thought it suited him so … no thoughts just office worker sunghoon 🫠

"Hello, it's me again," his voice crackled over the line as you pressed the phone to your ear. You let out a small sigh, recognizing this as the third time he'd called just this week.

"Why, hello, Park Sunghoon."

“Huh—oh! You know it’s me," he said, sounding surprised, though you could hear the smile in his voice.

"You've been the only one calling my work number lately, Sunghoon," you replied. "And considering how many times you've called, it's normal to recognize your voice by now, don't you think?"

"I guess so…" he chuckled nervously. "Well, do you have time to come to my office? I need help."

"Help with what?"

"My computer is acting up—I don’t think it’s working properly. Can you help me, please?"

"Sunghoon," you sighed, glancing at the mounting work on your desk. "This is the third time this week. Are you sure it's not something simple?"

"Yes! I really do need your help," he insisted, a hint of sheepishness in his tone.

"Fine," you relented. "I’ll be on my way."

"Really?" His voice went up a notch, brimming with excitement before he cleared his throat. "Thank you so much, Y/N!"

Shaking your head, you stood up and headed down the hall to his office. As you walked, you couldn't shake the thought that there was no way he could be this unlucky.

When you finally arrived at his office, you knocked on the door and heard Sunghoon's voice from the other side inviting you in. As you entered, you saw him sitting at his desk, pretending to look frustrated with his computer.

“What is it?”

“Well, what a way to say, ‘hello’. Good morning to you too, YN,” Sunghoon replied, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“Considering how many times I see you in a day, I don’t have to say that all the time when I do.”

Closing the door behind you, you couldn't help but also comment, “You know, you really should call the IT department for tech problems.”

Sunghoon looked up, still smiling. “Why call them when you've been so great at solving my previous issues?”

"Issues, you say?” you replied, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“Of course,” he said with feigned innocence. “I would never call you to my office if I wasn’t genuinely struggling.”

"Like how your computer screen froze? When all you could’ve done was just restart your computer?" you asked, giving him a pointed look.

“I didn’t want to mess up more things, so I had to call you,” Sunghoon replied, his face turning a shade of pink as he fumbled for an excuse. It was just so easy for a confident smile of his to dissolve into embarrassment, as if he didn’t set himself up in the first place.

“Okay then, how about the problem with your printer? When all you had to do was refill the ink?”

“I swear I had it refilled last week,” he protested, glancing away. “I wouldn’t have called if I knew that was really the cause of it.”

“And how about the time—the same day as your printer issue—you said you deleted a really important file?”

“Okay, that was a real problem!” Sunghoon said quickly, recalling the incident. “I really panicked when I couldn’t find it on my screen. And you were all I thought about—well, asking for help, that is! Don’t get it twisted!”

“I never said anything,” you teased, unable to hide your amusement. “And all you had to do was check your ‘Recently Deleted’ folder. There was also another copy of it in your downloads.”

“Okay, none of that matters anymore, it’s all in the past!” he brushed off, trying to direct your attention elsewhere. “What matters is that I wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for your great assistance.”

“You could’ve fixed it easily by yoursel—”

“Why don’t we turn our attention back to my computer, please?” he interrupted, eager to change the subject, his voice carrying a note of pleading.

You walked over to his desk, noticing how he seemed to tense slightly as you came closer. Ignoring that, you leaned over to check the computer, both of you staring at the black screen.

“Well, if you see this,” Sunghoon said, pressing the button multiple times to try to turn on his computer. “It doesn’t work.”

“Can you be more gentle?” you suggested, watching as he awkwardly backed away.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled. “Can you fix this?”

“Sure, get out of your seat, please.” He quickly complied, moving to stand against the wall near his desk. You tried holding down the button, but the computer still wouldn’t turn on. Feeling a bit puzzled, you started looking around the desk. When nothing seemed amiss, you decided to check under the desk and soon noticed a cable...not plugged in.

Grabbing the wire, you held it out and looked at Sunghoon, who was nervously chuckling. “Oh…it was unplugged the whole time…”

You raised an eyebrow, struggling to keep a straight face. “Well, I suppose that explains it.” You plugged it back in, pressed the button once more, and the screen finally lit.

“Wow, who would’ve thought…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly burning up.

“Sunghoon,” you said, shaking your head with a teasing smile, “you know you could’ve checked this yourself.”

“Who would go ahead and unplug their own computer?” he mumbled, glancing away from your gaze. “I wouldn’t have done that on purpose or anything…”

“You’re really running out of excuses, aren’t you?”

“What…what do you mean?”

“You just want to see me more, don’t you?”

“I do not! I mean, as much as I do enjoy your company, I wouldn’t play tricks just to see you,” he said, rambling nervously. “You’ve just been a reliable person I can trust with these office issues.”

Not fully convinced, you said, “Well then, now that your ‘issue’ is fixed, I will take my leave.” You started to get up from his chair, about to walk away, when Sunghoon abruptly jolted.

“Wait!”

His sudden outburst startled you, and you watched as he frantically rummaged through his desk drawers, pulling out two overstuffed folders. “Can…can you help me sort these out? I mean, since you’re here, and you’re so good at handling things, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for you to help me with my work…right?”

He looked at you with hopeful eyes, his usual composure replaced with a hint of desperation. His attempt to maintain a professional demeanor faltered as he fiddled with the papers, clearly trying to cover up his real intentions. You could see through his act, but the genuine earnestness in his voice made it hard to resist.

“Fine, but only because I’m already here,” you said, with a small smile. As you took the folders from him, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was more about the company than the paperwork.

Sunghoon’s eyes lit up slightly as he grinned and quickly got a chair for you. As you both began organizing the chaotic stack of papers, a comforting silence settled in.

“You know, Sunghoon, I’ve always thought of you as an organized person,” you remarked, glancing at the disarray before you.

“Well, I am,” he chuckled, taking your comment as a compliment. “It’s just that I’ve been swamped with meetings lately, so I haven’t had a chance to sort everything out.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” you hummed, flipping through the papers. “You still would’ve made sure everything was in the right place.”

“Oh…really?” Sunghoon’s voice held a hint of nervousness. “So, you’ve noticed, huh?”

“Am I not supposed to?” you asked with a playful smile. “Aren’t I the assistant you always call for to fix all your issues?”

“Okay, if you think I made this mess on purpose just to keep you around, you’ve got it all wrong!” Sunghoon quickly defended himself, though his flushed face betrayed his words. “And you know me, I wouldn’t torture myself with a mess just to see you.”

“Relax, I was just teasing. Why don’t you work a bit faster then, hm?”

“You don’t have to remind me about my work, YN,” he pouted slightly, eliciting a soft chuckle from you.

He couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at you every now and then, marveling at the way you carried yourself, the subtle expressions you made as you worked—all of it made it difficult for him to concentrate.

To him, you were the prettiest person he’d ever laid eyes on. His eyes would linger on your features—just looking at your focused expression alone was always enough for him to get lost in the moment, or rather, admiring you. And every single time—without a fail—each look would send a flutter of excitement through his chest.

Sunghoon would catch himself in a daze, realizing he’d been staring a little too long again. He'd quickly snap out of it, giving himself a mini pep talk in his mind.

Get it together, Sunghoon. Focus.

He shifted in his chair, trying to redirect his attention to the task at hand, but it was no use. Every time he glanced up, Sunghoon mentally kicked himself for being so easily flustered. It was ridiculous how just being near you turned him into a nervous wreck. His usual confidence seemed to vanish whenever you were around, replaced by a nervous energy that made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

He tried to distract himself by focusing on his work, but his mind kept wandering back to you—how you laughed, the way you rolled your eyes when he said something silly, and the way you seemed to understand him without needing to say much.

Sunghoon knew he was obvious, but he never failed to deny it. Despite the countless times he’d told himself to just say it, he was afraid he’d only continue to humiliate himself even more. Every time he opened his mouth, the words got tangled in his throat, and he’d end up making some excuse instead.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that you might already see through his intentions and were just waiting to reject him once he finally confessed. The thought made his heart race with fear, and it was enough to keep him from doing anything.

But he pushed his many thoughts aside, trying to focus on the task at hand. He shuffled through the papers on his desk, pretending to concentrate. His nervousness lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the tension he felt whenever you were near.

After another moment of silence, he broke it with a hesitant question. “So, YN, what’s your… go-to coffee order?”

“Hm?” you looked up, slightly puzzled.

“Just… curious! Yeah, that’s all,” he said quickly, his voice a bit too casual.

“I don’t see how my coffee order is relevant to your office problems or work,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yes, but I thought it might be nice to know,” Sunghoon stammered. “After all, if I’m going to be a bother, I might as well get you something you like. The least I could do is make up for, you know, troubling you.”

“And what if I don’t drink coffee?”

“Huh? I saw you drinking coffee with Jay the other day—”

“Watching me now, are we? That’s a bit unprofessional for a work setting, don’t you think?”

“No, wait! I wasn’t—I just happened to notice you while I was on my break,” Sunghoon rushed to explain. “And asking Jay would’ve been awkward. So—ugh, nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, noticing his flush deepening. He truly couldn’t hide it well.

“Yes, ignore me and continue helping me, please,” Sunghoon replied, the pink blush on his face becoming way more evident than before. Was he that painfully obvious with his tactics?

Either way, he wanted to get out of there—this was becoming too much for him, and his usual ways of calming down weren’t working. You couldn’t help but slip a small giggle at his discomfort.

“Well, I’m actually done now,” you said with a playful smile.

“Wait—already?!” His astonishment was clear as he glanced at his side of the desk compared to yours. His papers were still scattered in disarray, while yours were neatly organized and back in their folder.

“Yep. While you were busy being a nervous wreck with your, well, overwhelming thoughts, I managed to focus and finish up,” you explained, sliding the organized folder back to him.

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, still taken aback by how efficiently you handled the task. He should have anticipated it, considering your ability to get things done swiftly—one of the many reasons he admired you. “Thank you, YN.”

“Do you have anything else you need help with?” you asked, your tone friendly.

“Uh, no, thank you,” Sunghoon replied, his cheeks still burning. He was mortified by the series of blunders he’d made in such a short time, and the embarrassment made him wish he could just disappear. He couldn’t believe he’d made such a mess of things.

“Listen, YN,” he started, sounding unusually earnest, “I’m really sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries with my questions or requests. And for all the office issues—silly as they might seem—I genuinely appreciate your help. So, um, you can leave now. Thank you again.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Sunghoon. I promise you’re fine,” you reassured him. His expression softened at your words, though he seemed still lost in thought about his mistakes earlier. “You haven’t done anything to make me uncomfortable, and if you had, I would’ve told you.”

As you stood up from the chair and walked toward the door, you glanced back at him. His gaze darted away from the door, though it was clear he was trying to sneak a look as you left.

“Caramel macchiato,” you said.

“Huh?”

“My coffee order,” you clarified. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Wait—” Sunghoon’s surprise was palpable. “Oh, oh—! Noted! I’ll make sure to remember!” he stammered.

“See you tomorrow, Sunghoon.” You flashed him a final, warm smile. Despite knowing he’d probably call you again, and he knew you knew, you still left him a bit flustered but smiling. He shyly nodded, silently whispering a thanks to you again.

As you closed the door behind you, you heard him mutter to himself, struggling to regain his composure. You could hear the muffled noises of his excitement and embarrassment as you walked away, and it made you chuckle.

You left his office with your heart lighter and your mind buzzing with the possibility that maybe these calls meant something more. Finally getting the answers to the questions you’d always had in mind, it became clear to you that Park Sunghoon was undeniably charming.

💬 : do we love the flustered!enha agenda or is that js me

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

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atlabeth · 5 months ago

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time’s blur - ialwbty au

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader but this primarily features percy jackson & sister!reader

summary: somehow, someway, you come back.

a/n: wow it has been a while hasn't it!! 148 days to be exact!! im always thinking about these two in the corner of my mind and ive been wanting to write this au since i got an ask about it, originally i was going to do it all as a big long one shot but i just want to get something out lol. and this will give me more freedom to do wte i want with this au instead of just having one big one shot and leaving it. anyways enjoy there is actually some fluff for once but still some emotional damage and there is more to come!! also reader is 19 and percy is 15

wc: 3.5k

warning(s): hurricane dies but she has come back!! told through percy's pov. angst, hurt/comfort, signature percy jackson guilt, but some fluffy sibling moments<3

Percy doesn’t end up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning out of instinct, foresight, or any kind of divine ‘chosen one’ intervention.

He ends up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning because some Apollo kid was hooking up with an Ares kid on the beach, and they found you.

They found you, not Percy. He didn’t even have a clue until he woke up to Chiron in his cabin.

Percy had had his fair share of rude awakenings over the years, usually because of horrific demigod prophetic dreams, but the expression on Chiron’s face immediately alerted Percy that something was wrong, even through his groggy haze.

“Chiron?” he rasps, and he sits up as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He has to make sure he’s not still dreaming.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Percy,” he says. “But I need you to come with me.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Is everyone okay? Is camp okay? Is there an invasion?”

“Nothing so ghastly,” Chiron says. Though his tone is a bit lighter, it still doesn’t ease Percy’s concerns. “But it does concern you.”

“Great,” Percy mumbles, and he pulls himself out of bed. Normally he would have the foresight to change, but a part of him is still worried that Christmas has come early and Kronos has already invaded the city.

So he follows Chiron—with all the sneaking around he’s done since getting to camp, it’s strange to be out this late and not have to worry about being eaten alive—clad in flannel pajama pants, a Yankee’s tee, and Converse he didn’t get the chance to fully lace up.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong,” Percy says, glancing up at him. “Right?”

“Of course,” he nods. “I wouldn’t classify this as something going wrong. Just… rather shocking.”

“Great,” he repeats. “Are you going to tell me?”

Chiron is silent for a moment, and Percy frowns. “Now I’m really worried.”

“I suppose it’s best to rip the bandage off,” Chiron says. He stops right outside the Big House and lets out a sigh. “An hour ago, a girl was found on the beach. She looked as if she’d been washed ashore.”

Percy’s frown deepens. “What? Gods— is she okay?”

“Yes,” Chiron says. “I checked her over for injuries, but she only had some minor bruises. No water in her lungs, somehow.”

“That’s crazy,” he says. “How could someone even wash up here? Even with demigods— don’t we have protections against that?”

“All of this makes me believe there was some… divine intervention,” Chiron says slowly. “Especially with who she is.”

Percy crosses his arms. “You’re making this sound like a huge deal. Who is she?”

“Percy,” Chiron says, soft but firm, “it’s your sister. Somehow, she’s come back to life.”

And for a second, all he can do is stare.

“What?”

“I could never forget her face,” he says. “Or the presence of a child of Poseidon.”

Percy shakes his head. “No, Chiron— if this is a joke, it’s not funny.” He huffs a mirthless laugh and looks down at his hands. “And if this is a shitty dream, then it’s really shitty.”

“Perseus, this is real,” he states.

He’s still shaking his head. “How can it be real? She’s dead— she’s been dead for years.”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Mr. D has already gone back to Olympus to figure it out. But if I had to guess, your father decided to meddle.”

He wants to call it a lie. Honestly, he wants to punch Chiron for getting his hopes up about something like this. But deep down, Percy knows he’s telling the truth.

“Can I see her?” he asks. “Is— is she okay? Does she know who she is?”

“In time,” Chiron says. “I cannot be sure, but it doesn’t look like she remembers anything from her life.”

Percy shakes his head again. It doesn’t feel real. He’s imagined what it would feel like to meet you since the moment Luke told him about you, but he knew it could never happen.

But now, all that stands between Percy and his sister is a few doors.

“I want to see her,” he says.

“Of course,” Chiron nods. “I just need to make sure it won’t mess with her further. This isn’t like Thalia coming back with the fleece—though I have suspicions, I can’t be sure how this happened. It could be a very delicate matter.”

“As long as it doesn’t hurt her more.”

Chiron nods again and he opens the door to the Big House. He follows him up to his office door, then stops when Chiron gestures at the couch.

“I just need to discuss a few more things with her.”

Percy nods wordlessly and sits down, then Chiron disappears into his office.

A million things are running through Percy’s mind, namely guilt.

Shouldn’t he have been the one to find you?

Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s you.

You’re his sister. He’s always had a connection to you, even when you were gone—gods, the night after he found out you existed you appeared in his dreams. Percy’s spent almost every moment since he found out about you wishing you were still here, that he could meet you, and when it finally does happen—somehow, because he still doesn’t understand what the fuck went on for this to happen—he’s not even the one to find you? He’s just asleep like every other night?

He huffs a sigh as he hunches over, his forearms on his knees. His leg bounces up and down at a rapid pace, moving his entire body with it, but this is one time he can’t lay his ADHD to rest. He’s more surprised he isn’t up pacing the entire room for the hundredth time.

If Percy feels like this, he can’t even imagine how you must feel. To come back for seemingly no reason with no memories, after four years in Elysium.

Luke said you’d been killed by a monster. You were buried like any other person.

You were gone.

But you just… came back.

He lets out another harried sigh and falls back against the couch. He’s exhausted, but there’s no chance of him being able to go back to sleep. Not with you around.

Suddenly, the door opens, and Percy instantly darts up from his seat. You walk out with Chiron and it’s almost surreal.

You look like all the pictures, all his dreams, just older—more mature. He wants to cry and scream and hug you all at once.

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance at Chiron for a moment before you focus back on Percy.

“Uh— sorry,” he says, wincing a bit. He doesn’t know how to act around you, not when he knows you but you don’t know him. “I waited for you. I thought it would be good to have someone on the other side.”

“That’s really nice,” you murmur. “I… I see why. Word on the street is that you’re my brother.”

Percy nods way too many times. “Yeah. Uh— yeah. We’re both children of—”

He pauses, his gaze moving past you to Chiron. He has to have explained all this to you, right?

“Poseidon,” you finish, and you let out a slightly shaky laugh. “Chiron laid out all the basics.”

“This has all got to be really confusing,” he says. “I remember how lost I was when I first got to camp, and I didn’t even…”

“Die?” you ask wryly. He nods again. He really can’t finish any sentence around you—he’s so worried of saying the wrong thing and accidentally hurting you. Percy doesn’t know how any of this works.

“It’s strange,” you admit. “I… I lived this whole life before this, and I don’t even remember any of it.”

Percy’s heart clenches painfully. He doesn’t know how he’s going to explain everything to you when you start remembering.

When you start remembering Luke.

“Really?” he asks. “There’s nothing?”

You shake your head. “I have my name, but that’s all. And…”

Percy frowns. “What?”

You pause for a moment before you shake your head again. “Nothing. This is just…”

“Weird?”

You nod with a slight laugh. “Yeah. To say the least.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re not the first person to come back to life,” Percy says. “Uh, a girl named Thalia used to be a tree before she was turned back into a human.”

You frown. “Wow.”

“We can get to all of that some other day,” Chiron thankfully interrupts. “Percy, will you take her back to your cabin?”

“You’re sure we won’t get eaten by the harpies?” Percy asks. “Aello is out for my blood.”

“I promise,” Chiron says. He glances at you, your frown noticeably deeper, and he looks back at Percy. “Perhaps we should, ah, hold off on this sort of discussion. Until tomorrow, at least.”

“Of course,” Percy says. “Sorry. You must be exhausted.”

“A little,” you admit. “Apparently coming back to life takes it out of you.”

“Come back here first thing in the morning,” Chiron says. “We have… quite a bit to talk about.”

“That’s an understatement,” you murmur.

Percy smiles a bit, and he gestures with his head for you to follow him. You do, and Chiron goes back into his office. He nabs a bag of ambrosia squares from an empty bedside as the two of you go through the infirmary just to be safe, and when he glances back at you he sees you frowning.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Does anything hurt?”

“You’re a Yankees fan?” you say instead.

Percy blinks, then he realizes you’re looking at his shirt. “Uh— yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m from New York, and my mom loves them, so…” he tugs at his shirt. “I know you like the Red Sox. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “We can’t all be perfect.”

Percy can’t help but smile. You died and came back to life, and you remember nothing but your name and your love for the Boston Red Sox.

“That means you keep up with baseball, right?”

“When I can,” he says. “We don’t really have technology out here.”

“Have the Red Sox won a world series since I’ve been gone?”

“They won last year, actually.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly grin. “Really?”

He nods. “They beat the Cardinals.”

“That— that’s huge!” you exclaim. “Oh my god, they broke the curse and I didn’t get to see it? This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“You know you died, right?”

“And look how well that worked out for me.” You shake your head. “I need to go to the library or something and find some footage.”

“As much as I would love to do that,” Percy says, “we have a few other things we have to focus on.”

You huff and shake your head. “Fine. But as soon as we figure all this out, I’m figuring out some way to see those games.”

Percy chuckles. “I don’t think anyone’ll deny you that.”

“Good.”

Silence settles over the two of you as you walk back to the Poseidon cabin, and Percy just feels awkward.

He always thought about what he would say to you if he finally got to see you again, and now you’re alive somehow and right next to him and he has no idea what to do.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Percy finally decides on. “Chiron said you just washed up on shore.”

“I feel surprisingly okay,” you say. “All I remember is waking up at the bottom of the lake. I thought I was going to drown, so I kicked my way up, and then got to shore.” You shake your head. “Somehow, I didn’t drown. My clothes weren’t even wet. I’ve got to be the luckiest person out there.”

“You’re a child of Poseidon,” he says. “We can breathe underwater so we can’t drown, and our clothes don’t get wet unless we want them to.”

“Like I said,” you incline your head, “luckiest person out there.”

“I just don’t get why you’re back,” Percy says. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are. I just don’t understand how, or why— or why now.”

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re not able to get any words out before a yawn interrupts it.

“Maybe that’s a tomorrow problem,” you say.

“I think you’re right,” Percy says. He opens the door to the camp store and you follow him inside, but you frown.

“What is this?”

“The camp store,” he says. “You don’t really have anything, so I wanted to get you some things.”

You just stare as he starts taking things. “You’re just… stealing?”

“Just a couple toiletries and some clothing,” he says. “They won’t miss it.” He stashes it all in a Camp Halfblood tote bag and holds it out to you, and though you’re a bit hesitant, you still take it.

“Thanks,” you say. “We won’t get in trouble?”

“I think everyone will cut you some slack for a while,” Percy says. “A guy did this for me my first day and it helps—makes you feel more at home.”

You hum, and this time you open the door for Percy. “Nice guy.”

Percy swallows the sudden lump in his throat, trying to ignore the chill that trickles down his spine as he realizes the implications of his words.

“Yeah,” Percy mutters. “He was.”

Eventually, the two of you get back to the Poseidon cabin. He opens the door for you and you slowly walk inside.

Again, it’s strange that you’re here. It’s like if a piece of his history textbook suddenly came to life and started walking around—he’s heard so much about you, imagined what he thought would be an impossible meeting so many times, but now that it’s actually happening he doesn’t know what to do.

And it hits even more as you walk over to a picture of yourself hanging on the wall, surrounded by a myriad of others.

It’s one of many of you and Luke, him holding you close with an arm slung around your shoulder as you beam at the camera with the brightest smile imaginable. Before Luke got his scar, before you died, before he went off the deep end.

“I put a couple of your pictures up,” Percy rushes to explain, his throat feeling scratchy, “and a few of your old things. As— as a way to remember you.”

“I love it,” you say, and the tension dissolves in his shoulders when he sees your smile. It really is so much brighter in person. “I— I can’t believe I don’t remember any of this.”

“We’ll figure out a way to get it back,” Percy says. “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say idly as you continue to take all the pictures in. He can’t imagine what it must feel like to see all these memories of a past life you have no recollection of.

“I don’t,” he says. “We’re gonna figure it out.”

You’re silent for a while as you keep looking at them. Then you take one of the pictures off the wall, the one of you and Luke at a baseball game.

“Luke,” you murmur, as if you don’t realize you’re saying it out loud. You blink, then you turn to Percy. “His name is Luke, isn’t it?”

He nods, almost in disbelief. You don’t remember a damn thing about your old life but you know Luke’s name.

How is Percy supposed to tell you what he did?

You laugh softly as you trail your nail over the edge. “We must’ve been pretty close if I got him to go to a Red Sox game.” You look over at Percy. “Does he go here too?”

After a moment, Percy shakes his head. “He— uh, he used to.”

“Makes sense,” you murmur, and you put the picture back on the wall. “I got the easy way out. Everyone else had to deal with the fallout.”

Percy frowns. “You were killed by a monster. I don’t think anyone considers that the easy way out.”

“It kinda was,” you say with a shrug. “I— I don’t remember much about it, but Chiron said I was in Elysium. There aren’t any monsters down there, and there certainly aren’t any responsibilities.”

“Well,” Percy sits down on his bed, “I’m glad you’re here. You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined meeting you.”

You chuckle. “I didn’t know I was so popular.”

“I’m serious,” he says. “Poseidon is one of the Big Three, and they made an oath not to have kids. I was the only Big Three kid in general when I got to camp—when I found out about you, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to have a sister to talk about all of this with.”

Your eyes soften, and you lean against his bed frame. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?”

“I— I don’t know,” you say with a slight laugh. “I just feel bad that I couldn’t be there for you.”

“You’re already doing a pretty good job at being a big sister,” Percy says wryly.

“Thanks,” you say. “You’re doing a pretty good job at being a younger brother.”

Percy laughs and smiles, and you smile too. He’s beginning to understand what Luke always said, about your presence embodying warmth. He’s only been around you for a few minutes and he already feels better.

“I’ve never had a brother before this,” you say. “So there might be a couple speed bumps.”

“We’ll get through them together,” Percy says. “Besides, I… I kind of always considered you my sister. Ever since I found out about you, even though you were…”

“Dead?” you guess, and he winces. You chuckle a bit. “It’s still weird for me, too. Can’t imagine what it must be like for all of you.”

“Weird,” he says without really thinking. “Really weird. But I’m thankful that you’re back.”

You smile. “So am I, Percy.”

You let out another yawn, and you sit down on the bed across from him. “God, what time is it?”

Percy glances at the clock in the corner. “3:34.”

You whistle. “I really chose a great time to come back, huh?”

He chuckles, and he kicks off his shoes as gets up to turn the lights off. “I think some sleep would do us both some good.”

You nod and do the same. As you lay back, one hand behind your head, you continue to look around the cabin.

“Are these your band posters?”

He shakes his head as he sits back down. “They’re yours, actually, but you’ve got good taste. I love Pearl Jam.”

“I used to have good taste, you mean,” you say wryly.

“Hey,” he says. “I meant what I told you. We’re gonna get your memories back.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I’ve done a lot of impossible things,” Percy says. “And so have you, from what I’ve heard. It’s kind of the Poseidon kid way, honestly.”

“You’ll have to teach me some things, then.”

“And when you get your memory back, you’ll have to do the same,” he says.

You smile and nod. “Deal.”

Percy smiles too, and he lays down. “You really should try and get some sleep. Chiron wasn’t joking when he said we have a lot to talk about.” He huffs a slight laugh. “Whatever the reason is for you coming back, I guarantee there’s gonna be some people upstairs that are mad about it.”

Your eyebrows rise. “Upstairs?”

“Olympus,” he says. “The gods don’t really like things happening out of their control.”

You hum, and for a moment there’s nothing but silence and the sound of both your breathing. It’s a little strange having someone else here other than Tyson, but he’s thankful for it.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” you ask. There’s an edge of fear in your voice, and Percy frowns.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” he repeats. “I’m not going to let anything happen. The gods have already messed with your life enough—they don’t get to do it again.”

Percy half-expects to hear the sound of thunder echoing across camp, but the silence continues. Maybe Zeus isn’t listening in on him for once, or maybe he just expects the disrespect at this point.

“I really am the luckiest person,” you say. “I’ve got someone like you looking out for me.”

“You were looking out for me when you were gone,” he says. “You might not remember, but I could feel it. So I’m just repaying the favor.”

Again, silence. It’s temporarily interrupted by the sound of sheets shifting, then you speak.

“I’m really glad I got to meet you, Percy,” you murmur.

He can’t help but smile, and he tries to ignore the tears beginning to spring in his eyes. He has no idea why you’re back—no idea what this could mean. Maybe your dad did bring you back, maybe it’s a bizarre case like Thalia, maybe you play a part in something that they don’t even know about yet and it's nothing but bad news.

But for once in his life, Percy’s not going to question it.

You’re alive and you’re here.

For now, that’s all he needs.

“Me too,” he whispers.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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woniedarlin · 6 months ago

Text

Business Proposal: Yang Jungwon

pairing: Jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: You don’t know what to begin with Yang Jungwon. He is your co-worker in a company you are in and you despise that cat-looking man. And he despises you. It’s been going on ever since the beginning. You swear you had enough of him. But it seems like the world is not on your side because as much as you respect the Ceo, you just want to leave the company almost immediately. Why? Because he decided to partner you up with Jungwon on a project together. This seems like a recipe for disaster. Oh goodness… what to do…what to do...

genre: Enemies/ Co-workers to lovers, forced proximity, angst, fluff

warnings: suggestive (mdni) WHOLE LOT OF ARGUING, BULLYING, CUSSING, AND GOSSIPING, You just hate each other honestly, Mentions of crying, strangling. Let me know if there is more!

note: Thank you to 🦋 anonie for requesting this!! I’m really sorry that it took me a lot of time to make this. It was a great idea and I’m just a sucker for this trope 🙈. I deeply apologize if it wasn’t on your expectations and I’ll do my best to keep improving. I had fun making this and I appreciate your patience. Happy reading darlingss!!

permanent taglist: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

Caution: I’M SURE YA’LL WILL BE GIGGLING AND SQUEALING IN THIS DHWHBXJWHS WRITING THIS WAS SO OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE. Reading discretion is advised 😽

You and Jungwon have always been at each other’s throats ever since you both started working at the company. From your perspective, he’s arrogant and dismissive, constantly interrupting your ideas and making you feel undervalued. From Jungwon’s perspective, you’re overly controlling and unwilling to listen.

Your mutual disdain is well-known around the office. Despite your talents and contributions, your inability to see eye to eye has created a rift that seems impossible to bridge.

Today, you receive a message to report to the CEO’s office—or Mr. Jeon, as you and your colleagues call him. You feel both anxious and curious, wondering what this could be about. As you approach the office, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“What could this be about? I hope it’s not more bad news.”

You open the door to the CEO’s office and immediately see that shitface. No, not Mr. Jeon, but that bitch who's already seated, looking equally puzzled.

Jungwon’s eyes looked over to you as you entered the office. Both surprise and annoyance flash across his face, his lips pursing slightly.

“You too, huh?” he remarks, his voice tinged with irritation.

Mr. Jeon, who is sitting behind his desk, smiles at both of you. “Ah, you’re both here. Good. Have a seat, Y/n.” You sit in the chair beside Jungwon.

Mr. Jeon laces his fingers together, his gaze moving between you and Jungwon. “I’m sure both of you are wondering why I called you here today.”

Jungwon remains silent, but inside, he’s bracing for a reprimand. Meanwhile, you nod, genuinely curious about the reason behind the summoning. Is he tired of the constant fighting between you and that idiot?

“As you know, the company has been facing some challenges lately, and we’ve been looking for ways to streamline our operations and increase efficiency.” He leans forward, his eyes fixing on both of you. “That’s why we’ve decided to assign you two to work on a project together.”

“With all due respect, sir, we’ve had our…differences. Are you sure this is the best idea?” you say with disbelief. No offense, but is Mr. Jeon alright?

The CEO nods, clearly having anticipated this objection. “I understand your concerns, but allow me to explain. The project we have in mind will require both of your unique skill sets and perspectives. We believe that working together will not only make the project more successful but will also help the two of you learn to collaborate effectively.”

He looks at both you and Jungwon. “This is an opportunity to put aside your differences and focus on the task at hand. Can I count on both of you to give this your best shot?”

You glance at Jungwon with slight disgust, which he meets with a momentary glare before looking back at Mr. Jeon. There’s obvious hesitation in his eyes, but he eventually nods, knowing he has no other choice. “If that’s what the company needs, I’ll do my part.”

“And how about you, Y/n?” Mr. Jeon looks at you.

You look down, fiddling with your fingers. You don’t want to disappoint him, even if it means working alongside that cat-looking man. You look up and nod. “I’ll do my part as well.”

Mr. Jeon smiles, clearly pleased with your responses. “Excellent. I have every confidence that the two of you will make an outstanding team. I want daily updates on your progress. You’re to work closely together and keep me informed about anything that may arise.”

He stands up, signaling the end of the meeting. “That’s all for now. You’re both dismissed.”

You stand up, bowing slightly at Mr. Jeon before quickly walking away from his office, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

Jungwon follows suit, falling in step behind you as you exit the CEO’s office. The silence between you is deafening, both of you still processing the fact that you’ve been thrown into this situation together.

You then glare at him, which he returns with equal intensity. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t my idea,” he says, his tone dripping with annoyance.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. “Whatever.”

Jungwon huffs in frustration, his patience already wearing thin. “Can you just cut the attitude for a second? We’re stuck working together, whether we like it or not. So can we just find a way to make this bearable?”

He then adds, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “We need to set some ground rules if this is going to work.”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips curling into a slight sneer. “Fine. What do you propose?”

Jungwon crosses his arms over his chest as if to mimic you. “For starters, no more eye rolls or backhanded comments every time something doesn’t go your way. We’re adults, not teenagers.”

“And two, we need to be open to each other’s ideas. That means no shutting down suggestions without hearing the other person out.”

Hearing that makes you snicker. “You always shut down my ideas.”

Jungwon rolls his eyes, clearly irritated by the accusation. “That’s not true. I just think your ideas are unrealistic and impractical, that’s all. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. It’s not all about you.”

You take a step closer to him, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Maybe if you listened, you’d see the potential instead of dismissing everything outright,” you say with a sarcastic tone.

He scoffs, his irritation growing with every word. “Oh, please. It’s not like your ideas are groundbreaking. They’re half-baked and lack any real substance. Why should I waste time listening to something that has no chance of working?”

You step even closer, eyes blazing with defiance. “Because sometimes taking risks and thinking outside the box is what leads to real innovation, something you clearly don’t understand.”

Jungwon’s voice lowers, his anger barely contained. “I understand plenty. Don’t assume you know more than I do. Your so-called ‘innovations’ are nothing more than pipe dreams. You need to learn to be more realistic and grounded in the world we live in.”

You raise your voice a little, practically spitting the words. “You know what? I’ll add another rule—if we’re going to work together, we need to communicate clearly.”

Jungwon lets out a humorless laugh. “You want communication? That’s rich coming from you. Any time I try to communicate with you, you immediately get defensive and start attacking. It’s impossible to have a rational conversation with you.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. “Maybe if you stopped being so condescending, I’d be more inclined to listen and have a rational conversation.”

Jungwon bristles visibly at being called condescending. “How am I supposed to talk to you when you’re so stubborn that you won’t listen to reason? You’re always convinced that you know best, even when you’re clearly wrong.”

You’re about to snap back when your co-worker, Dae, approaches the both of you. “I know you two have your disagreements, but some of us…well, all of us are focusing on our work, so you two need to stop,” he says gently.

Jungwon and you are both startled by Dae’s sudden appearance.

Jungwon sighs, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll keep it down.”

Dae smiles a little and mutters, “Thank you,” before walking back to his cubicle.

You exhale sharply, turning back to Jungwon. “Well, how are we supposed to do the project? Where?”

Jungwon glances around, thinking for a moment. “We need to find a place where we can work on the project without distractions. How about the empty meeting room on the third floor?”

You cross your arms, nodding slowly as if testing the idea. “Fine, we’ll do our project there.”

Jungwon nods, already mentally preparing himself to work closely with you. He’s begrudgingly accepting the reality that he’s going to have to spend a lot of time in your presence over the next few weeks. “Let’s head over there now so we can start getting things set up.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable clashes to come. “Lead the way,” you say, your voice with resignation.

👠

You follow Jungwon into the empty meeting room and take a seat across from him. The tension is evident as both of you sit in silence for a few moments, neither knowing how to break the ice.

Finally, Jungwon sighs and opens his laptop, breaking the silence. “Alright, let’s get to work. We need to come up with a plan for the project.”

You bring out your laptop, placing it on the table before opening it. The hum of the machines fills the room as you both start to settle into the task at hand.

Jungwon scrolls through a few documents on his screen before speaking again. “Here’s what I was thinking we could do… But first, I want to hear your thoughts on the matter.” He looks at you, genuinely curious to hear your opinion, albeit begrudgingly.

You look at him, “Gladly. I think we should focus on an interactive online campaign that uses social media influencers to create buzz. It’s effective and has a wide reach.”

Jungwon considers your suggestion for a moment, his expression remaining neutral. “I disagree. I think a more traditional approach, like a series of high-profile events and trade shows, would give the product the prestige it needs. Face-to-face interactions create a stronger impact.”

You lean forward, your hands resting on the table. “Events are important, but they take time to organize and can be expensive. We need quick and impactful results.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrow slightly as he counters your argument. “And social media campaigns can be hit or miss. We need something reliable and established.”

You groan frustration is evident in your voice. “Ugh, it’s only been minutes and we are already breaking our rules.”

Jungwon lets out a scoff. “You’re the one who started it by offering up your unrealistic ideas.”

You glare at him, your tone sharp. “And you’re the one who shot them down without even giving them a chance.”

Jungwon throws his hands up in frustration, rolling his eyes. “Because they wouldn’t work! You need to accept reality and stop living in your fantasyland!”

Taking a deep breath, you try to find a compromise. Arguing won’t get the project started, and you know you need to approach this with an open mind. “Fine. What if we combine both approaches? Start with a high-profile launch event to get the initial attention, and then follow up with an aggressive online campaign to maintain the momentum?”

Jungwon considers your suggestion for a moment, his irritation gradually giving way to contemplation. After a few seconds, he nods, begrudgingly accepting the compromise. “That… might just work. The event will generate buzz, and the online campaign will keep the momentum going. I can see your idea being viable in this context.”

You nod with a neutral expression, though a hint of satisfaction creeps into your eyes. “Glad to hear it.”

He lets out a sigh, his tone slightly more civil than before. “Alright, so we’ve agreed on the approach, at least in theory. Let’s start drafting the plans for both the event and the online campaign. We need to set timelines and assign responsibilities.”

You type a few notes into your laptop, feeling a tentative sense of progress. “Sounds good to me.”

👠

The weeks have been both of tension and resentful cooperation. The process has not been smooth sailing, with numerous disagreements and clashes between you and Jungwon. However, the progress of the project has kept both of you from completely succumbing to your differences. You’ve managed to finalize the plans for the event and the online campaign, although not without a few heated discussions.

As you review the progress the two of you have made, you can’t help but wonder how the project will turn out despite the constant clashes between you and Jungwon.

It’s very late at night, and it seems like it’s just the two of you left in the building. You close your laptop with a sigh. “Alright, we’ll continue this tomorrow.”

Jungwon yawns and rubs his eyes, exhaustion setting in. The hours of working non-stop and being in close proximity to you have taken their toll on him.

He glances at his watch, realizing how late it is. “Yeah, I guess that’s all we can get done tonight. We should both get some rest and pick this up fresh tomorrow.”

You look at him in quiet disgust. “You look like shit, by the way.”

He shoots you a withering glare, not appreciating the insult. He looks exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his usually meticulously styled hair now sticking up at odd angles. “Yeah, well, you don’t look so picture-perfect yourself.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to respond. He watches as you leave without another word. He runs a hand through his messy hair, trying to fix it. Despite his annoyance with you, he can’t help but notice that even late at night, you still manage to look composed and elegant. It irks him, adding to his already simmering resentment.

👠

The next day, you and Jungwon are taking a break near the empty meeting room. The atmosphere is tense as usual, and neither of you seem eager to break the silence.

Then you hear your colleagues Hwan and Jiho’s voices coming from around the corner.

“I can’t believe Mr. Jeon paired them up. They’re both such a mess. This project is doomed,” Jiho said.

Jungwon’s face tightens, his scowl deepening as he listens to the dismissive assessment. He has always prided himself on his capability and work ethic, and this kind of criticism stings.

He glances at you, noticing the flicker of discomfort in your eyes. You’re silent, but it’s clear that the comments have affected you as well.

Hwan adds, “I know, right? I don’t know what Mr. Jeon was thinking. Those two bicker more than they get any actual work done.”

As Hwan and Jiho continue their gossip, Jiho suddenly notices something over Hwan’s shoulder and widens his eyes. Hwan turned around to see...

One with very sharp eyes and the other whose expression are unreadable.

The air grows thick with tension as Hwan and Jiho fall silent, their faces flushing with embarrassment.

“You know, if you have something to say, you could at least say it to our faces,” Jungwon says, his voice cool but edged with irritation. His eyes lock onto theirs, clearly displeased with being the subject of their gossip.

Your expression remains deadpan as you add, “And if you have any doubts about our abilities, you’ll see the results soon enough. We’re not here to entertain your gossip.”

Jiho shifts nervously, stammering as they try to offer a weak apology. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt you. I just... uh, I just heard people talking...”

Their voice trails off as they struggle to find a way to excuse their behavior. You roll your eyes, unimpressed.

“This is why Mr. Jeon never gave you two such an important task,” you say, your tone dripping with subtle disdain.

Both Hwan and Jiho blush furiously, their egos bruised by your comment. Hwan stutters awkwardly before blurting out, “That’s not true! I’ve done plenty of important projects before…”

Jungwon lets out a sarcastic huff, smirking. “Yeah, sure. Running errands and fetching coffee.”

Hwan’s face reddens further at Jungwon’s dismissive retort. He glances at you and then back at Jungwon, struggling to come up with a response but failing miserably.

The two men exchange nervous glances, clearly intimidated. They mumble apologetically, their heads ducked in embarrassment, before hastily retreating down the hallway.

"Looks like we scared them off," Jungwon says, glancing at you with a satisfied smirk.

You nod and return his gaze. "That felt good."

Jungwon snorts, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, it did. It’s about time someone put those gossip-hounds in their place."

He meets your eyes, his expression growing more serious. "But, honestly, I’m surprised we managed to agree on something for once."

You tilt your head, "That they’re pieces of shit?"

Jungwon laughs, genuinely and unexpectedly, as he shoves his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, that part. At least we can agree on that."

He pauses, then adds, "Well, enough about them. I haven’t even finished eating my curry."

You nod, "Yeah, me neither."

Jungwon gestures towards the break room where he left his lunch. "Come on then, no point in letting our meals get cold while we stand around gossiping."

"We’re not gossiping. Those assholes are," you reply.

He grins, "Alright, maybe 'gossiping' isn’t the right word. Let’s call it 'expressing our dislike for annoying coworkers' instead."

"Definitely. Come on," you say, heading towards the break room.

He follows you into the break room, where his lunch waits on the table. Jungwon sits down and picks up his curry, giving it a quick stir with his spoon. "Hope you don’t mind me eating while we talk. I get cranky when I’m hungry."

You tease, "You still look like shit even if you do something."

Jungwon rolls his eyes and shoots you a mock glare. "Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ll be sure to consider that constructive feedback."

👠

The project continues to slowly progress, albeit with the usual tension bubbling up here and there.

Despite the occasional setbacks and clashes, the two of you manage to find a sort of grudging respect for each other's skills and work ethic. It's not necessarily friendly respect, as you still find each other quite annoying. But there's an acknowledgment of the fact that the other isn't completely useless.

But today wasn’t your day.

You were struggling with menstruation but decided to come to work anyway, taking some pain relievers to get through the day. As you were picking up some items to bring to the meeting room, you overheard a familiar voice—Ara’s—gossiping about you. She dislikes you for being partners with Jungwon.

“She’s always so high and mighty, acting like she’s better than everyone else. This is why Jungwon hates her. Mr. Jeon should have partnered me with him. I just know the project would be done in no time.”

Usually, you would confront anyone talking badly about you, but today, the words cut deeper than usual, leaving you stunned and hurt.

Trying to compose yourself, you headed to the empty meeting room where Jungwon was typing away at his laptop. You kept your head down, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears forming in your eyes.

Jungwon glanced up from his laptop and immediately sensed something was off. He could tell you were fighting back tears and visibly upset.

He pushed away from the table and approached you.

“Who did this to you?”

‘’It’s nothing.’’ You wiped your tears and avoided his gaze.

He frowns, not buying your dismissive reply. He stops in front of you, forcing you to look at him. “It’s not nothing. You’re clearly upset about something. And if someone has hurt you, I need to know.”

There’s genuine concern in his voice. Despite your ongoing animosity, he can’t ignore the fact that you’re visibly distressed.

He watches as you struggle to find the words, his frown deepening. He reaches out, gently placing a hand on your cheek to tilt your head up. "Hey, look at me. Tell me what happened. Who made you cry like this? Was it Hwan? Or Jiho?"

‘’…It’s Ara…I overheard her..she said some things about me and reasons why you hated me.’’

He scowls at the mention of Ara's name, his expression darkening. He can easily picture her making such comments. She's been a source of tension and conflict within the office, constantly stirring up drama and gossip.

"And you believe her?" He said while caressing your cheek.

‘’Yeah?’’ You said while sniffing.

He shakes his head, clearly annoyed at both you and Ara. "Why would you believe the words of someone as petty and envious as her? You should know by now that her opinions are not worth the air they waste."

He continued, "You might be a headache and pain in the ass most of the time, but you're not conceited. You've worked hard to earn everything you have. You're talented and capable, and you know it. Don't let her convince you otherwise.”

He releases his hand from your cheek, “And next time you hear her talking about you, you tell me. I’ll deal with her before she spreads more of her bullshit around.”

He gently wipes your tears. “You know what? I’ll be right back.”

Jungwon left the meeting room and made his way to Ara’s cubicle, his eyes fixed on her with a steely glare. Ara’s face brightened at his approach.

“Oh, hi Jungwon. Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Follow me,” he said, his sharp eyes making Ara frown slightly.

He shut the door behind them, ensuring privacy. Ara’s nervousness was felt.

“Jungwon, I-”

“Shut up.” He cut her off sharply. “I heard what you said about Y/n. Care to explain why you’re spreading lies about her?”

“I was just saying what others were thinking,” Ara stuttered, her eyes darting fearfully.

Jungwon scoffed, his patience wearing thin. “Bullshit. You’re just jealous because she’s more talented and ambitious than you.”

He continued, “And I’m warning you. If I hear you talking trash about her again, I’ll make sure you regret it. I can get you kicked out of here with just a word to Mr. Jeon.”

Ara swallowed nervously, clearly intimidated. “I-I’m sorry, Jungwon. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

Jungwon scowled, unsatisfied with her apology. “You’ll be apologizing to Y/n, too. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll make damn sure it’s sincere. Now come with me, you’ll be apologizing to her. Now.”

He led her back to the meeting room where you were waiting. Jungwon gestured to Ara. “Go on. Say what you need to say.”

Ara approached you, her voice trembling. “Um, Y/n, I-I just wanted to say—”

She faltered under Jungwon’s glare. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I didn’t mean it.”

Jungwon watched the scene closely, his expression unreadable. Once Ara finished her apology, he released her. “You can go now.”

Ara nodded quickly, clearly relieved, and scurried out of the room. Jungwon turned to you.

“You didn’t have to,” you said softly, your voice tinged with residual emotion.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course, I had to. You just sat there and took her bullshit without defending yourself.”

His expression softened unexpectedly. “Why didn’t you say anything? You usually stand up for yourself.” You looked down, feeling embarrassed. He then continued, “No offense, but you’ve dealt with worse and come out stronger.”

Jungwon reached out and gently wiped a tear from your cheek. “So why did it affect you so much? Why did it make you cry?”

You closed your eyes, your voice barely a whisper. “I just… I feel sensitive today because…”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, waiting. “Because…?”

You hesitated before admitting, “I’m on my period.”

Jungwon blinked in surprise, then nodded in understanding. “Ah, I see. That would make sense.” He smirked, a playful glint in his eye. “Explains why you’re so emotional today.”

“But still, her words shouldn’t have gotten to you. You’re too talented and capable to let petty remarks affect you.”

You shook your head. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’m not the kind to sugarcoat things. You know that.”

He looked at you directly. “I’m serious. You’re a pain in the ass and a constant headache, but that’s because you’re ambitious and talented. Her words are just petty bullshit. Don’t let them get to you.”

He patted your hair gently, a surprisingly affectionate gesture. “And next time someone talks trash about you, tell me. I’ll take care of it.”

You were touched by his words and, despite your attempts to hold it together, started crying harder. Your shoulders shook as you tried to suppress your sobs.

Jungwon looked alarmed, clearly unsure how to handle your emotional outburst. He awkwardly patted your back. “Hey, calm down. You’re gonna give yourself a headache with all that crying. Take a deep breath.”

You managed to choke out between sniffles, “Why are you being so kind today?”

Jungwon looked taken aback by your question. “What do you mean? I’m always kind.”

“Bullshit,” you muttered, wiping your tears with the back of your hands.

He smirked at your bluntness. “Careful now. You’re the one crying your eyes out.”

His smirk softened slightly. “But seriously, stop crying. You’re making me get all emotional.”

“You too?” you asked, your eyes widening in surprise.

Jungwon scowled, though his tone was softer. “Yeah, yeah. Make fun of me all you want. You’re the one blubbering like a baby.”

You continued to sniffle and then let out a small, amused laugh. “I want to see you cry so I can take a picture and post it on Instagram.”

He scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Fat chance. I’m not crying just to satisfy your twisted sense of humor. Plus, I’d look even more handsome than you if I was crying, so you’d be jealous.”

You laughed a little more, feeling somewhat better. “You know what? We should get back to the project. Mr. Jeon might kick our asses.”

He shook his head, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You go from crying to work mode in no time. Damn, you’re back to being a pain in the ass.”

“First, do you have a napkin? I have a snot…” you said, holding up the empty tissue box.

He winced, clearly disgusted at your tear-stained, snot-filled face, but still reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pack of tissues. “Here. Clean yourself up already. You’re a mess.”

You took the tissue gratefully, wiping your nose. “Thank you. Let’s get back to work.”

He watched as you blew your nose and tried to compose yourself. “Yeah, the sooner we finish this, the sooner I’ll be rid of your snot-filled face.”

“It only happened today!” you protested.

He scoffed, a smug expression on his face. “Yeah, I know. I’m being extra generous today, dealing with your hormonal, leaky self.”

“Stop!” you said, swatting his arm.

He exaggeratedly winced, his hand on his arm. “Ouch! Watch it, I almost lost a limb.”

You glared at him but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. You moved to sit down at your desk, opening your laptop, with tissues at the side.

Jungwon settled next to you, opening his laptop. “Alright, time to get back to business. Let’s finish this project ASAP so I can get a break from your whining.”

👠

The two have been working closely and starting to get along better, but the stress of the approaching deadline and their differences lead to friction. They’ve been working late nights, and exhaustion is wearing on both of them, making tempers shorter.

They have a disagreement over a critical aspect of the project, such as the direction of the campaign. The argument escalates quickly, with both raising their voices, airing out frustrations not just about the project but also about each other’s working styles and personal issues.

“You’re always so stubborn, never willing to see anyone else’s perspective!” you shout at him, frustration boiling over.

He snaps back, his temper flaring up further. "And you're always so bossy, expecting everyone to follow your lead without question! You act like you're the only one who knows what's best. Maybe if you'd listen to other people for once, we wouldn’t be in this mess!"

“And maybe if you weren’t so stubborn and dismissive, we’d make progress instead of constantly arguing!” you retort, your voice rising.

He glares at you, his patience wearing thin. "Dismissive? I'm not the one who thinks they know everything. You're so set on dominating every decision that you can't even see when you're wrong."

He crosses his arms, a look of defiance on his face. "Maybe if you'd learn to compromise once in a while, we wouldn't be stuck in this damn cycle of arguing and getting nowhere!"

“Compromise works both ways, Jungwon. Maybe if you stopped acting like you always have the right answer, we’d actually find a solution that works for both of us!” you fire back, your eyes blazing with anger.

He scoffs, his defenses automatically going up even further. "You're one to talk! You’re just as guilty of stubbornly sticking to your position as I am. You never listen to anyone else’s perspectives, and then you get all defensive when someone challenges your ideas."

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated by the situation. "Maybe if you stopped being so confident in your infallibility, we’d actually be able to find a middle ground."

The argument reaches a peak, with both of you standing close, faces flushed with anger.

His eyes blaze with irritation as he glares at you, “You never give an inch, do you? It’s always your way or no way with you, isn’t it? You can’t even admit when you’re wrong.”

“You’re so quick to point fingers and place the blame, never considering that maybe, just maybe, you’re part of the problem too,” you say, your voice shaking with frustration.

As the words hang in the air, the tension between you becomes almost unbearable.

“Fuck this.”

He pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss is intense and passionate. “Shut up. Just shut up for a goddamn second,” he mutters in between kisses. His hands move to cradle your face, holding you tightly as he devours your lips.

The kiss breaks abruptly at the sound of the door opening. Jungwon steps back quickly, trying to act as if nothing had just happened, but his flushed face and the rapid rise and fall of his chest betray the intensity of the moment.

Dae raises an eyebrow at the scene before him, clearly having walked in on an interesting moment. “It’s getting late. I suggest you two go home and continue the project tomorrow.”

Jungwon shoots a sharp glare at Dae but forces himself to calm down. “Yeah, alright. We were about to leave anyway." He picks up his laptop and shoves it into his bag, his movements a bit rushed and restless.

You pack your things, your heart still racing from the kiss. Jungwon watches you, his gaze never leaving you. He feels different kinds of emotions—frustration, confusion, and a whole lot more.

After you finish packing, he clears his throat softly. “Let’s go. I’ll walk you to your car.” He leads the way out of the office, his footsteps a little faster than usual. As you walk side by side in silence, he steals glances at you from the corner of his eye, clearly still affected by the earlier kiss.

Finally, as you reach your car, he pauses and turns to face you. “Listen, about… that back there—” He trails off, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know why I did that. I just got so frustrated with that whole argument, and I guess I just... lost it. I’m sorry.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m sorry too.”

He lets out a deep exhale, his shoulders sagging slightly. “We need to find a way to work together without constantly arguing and… making things more complicated.”

He gives a light, self-deprecating chuckle. “Maybe we should start by not screaming at each other and then kissing each other senseless.”

You look up at him, trying to process everything. “Definitely,” you agree softly, a hint of a smile playing on your lips despite the tension.

He runs a hand through his hair again, a nervous habit you’ve noticed. “I… I just can’t figure you out sometimes, you know? One minute you’re driving me insane by being so stubborn, and the next you’re looking at me with those eyes, all innocent and… damn it.” He drags a hand over his face, frustration evident in every line of his body.

He continued. “And I can’t decide if I want to rip your clothes off or wring your neck. Hell, maybe both.”

You glare at him, surprised at his words. “Pervert!” you exclaim, pushing him back with a firm hand on his chest.

He laughs a low, gravelly sound. “I never claimed to be anything else. But admit it, you don’t exactly hate it.”

You keep your hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “Stop it,” you insist, your voice softer now, almost pleading.

He looks down at your hands on his chest, a small smirk forming. He lifts his own hands and covers yours with his, holding them against his chest. “Stop what? Saying what I’m thinking? I’ve never been good at hiding my thoughts, you should know that by now.”

You sigh, frustration evident in your voice. “I’m confused. Why the hell did you kiss me?”

“Because… I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why I did it, or why it felt so good, or why I want to kiss you again right now. I just... can’t think straight around you sometimes. You make me feel all twisted up inside.” He pauses, his eyes searching your face for understanding.

“You drive me crazy in the most frustrating and arousing way possible. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Do you like me or what?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

He hesitates for just a moment, his expression torn. Then he gives a half-smile. “I… don’t know. Maybe. Probably. Yes. I definitely want you, that’s for sure.”

“But I’m also frustrated as hell by you, and confused as hell by you. It’s a complicated mix of emotions, I can tell you that.”

You shake your head, feeling just as confused. “You’re confused, I’m fucking confused, bro.”

He laughs a little at your outburst. “Well, at least we’re both confused. Great way to start a... whatever this would be.”

He continues, his tone softening. “You’re really cute when you cuss. It doesn’t fit your whole innocent angel persona you usually have going on.”

You raise your eyebrows, looking at him as if he was insane. “Innocent? You have seen me fight, right?”

He rolls his eyes, but his expression is lighthearted. “Yeah, I know you’re fierce. But you also give off this innocent, angelic vibe, with your long lashes and cute little pouts. It’s confusing as hell if you want me to be honest.”

“Well, whatever this is, you and I better finish the project. So we can have that goddamn paycheck,” you say, trying to steer the conversation back to work.

“Yeah, you’re right. We can figure this other stuff out later, I guess.” He takes a small step back, creating a bit of space between you. “We’ll finish the project. Just… try not to drive me insane in the process, okay?”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” you ask, tilting your head.

He gives you an exasperated look. “How the hell should I know? Stop being so stubborn, maybe. Stop being so damn cute and looking at me like that. That’d be a good start.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you should stop being an asshole then,” you say, crossing your arms.

He laughs, shaking his head. “And there’s that sharp tongue that drives me insane. Can’t go two minutes without calling me an ass, can you?”

You groan, “Can’t you just let me go? I really have to go home.”

“Yeah, alright. I don’t want to keep you from your beauty sleep any longer.” He nods at you. “Have a good night. And don’t work too hard on the project tonight. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You offer a small smile, feeling the tension ease slightly. “You bet,” you reply, then you open the car door and slide into the driver’s seat.

He watches as you get into your car, a small smile playing on his lips. As much as the two of you butted heads and drove each other crazy, he couldn’t deny the attraction that was slowly building between you.

“That woman honestly… my woman,” he mutters to himself as he walks away.

👠

You and Jungwon continued to work together, and with the project’s success, there was a sense of accomplishment that was hard to ignore. Despite all the tension, the team had pulled off something impressive.

He’s sitting at his desk, reviewing the project’s metrics, when he looks up and catches your eye from across the office. A half-smile quirks, and he gives a slight nod, acknowledging your shared accomplishment. For now, the project’s success took precedence over your differences.

He watches as you return his nod. The tension between you has lessened somewhat, an unspoken truce having formed as you both focus on the successful outcome of the project.

He looks back down at his computer screen, the numbers, and figures a welcome distraction from the thoughts of you that were still on his mind.

He wonders if the peace between you will last, or if things will return to the bickering and arguing once the high of success wears off.

👠

Mr. Jeon, has decided to celebrate in the company building to acknowledge the hard work and success of the project. The office is decorated, and a small party is in full swing. Colleagues are mingling, enjoying drinks and snacks, while music plays softly in the background.

Jungwon stands off to the side of the room, nursing a drink and watching the party unfold. His eyes occasionally scan the room, searching for the one person he both wants to see and dreads seeing - you.

When he finally spots you, he feels a jolt of something in his chest - a mix of attraction and irritation. You look as effortless and beautiful as ever.

Out of hesitation, he decides to approach you. He reaches your side, clearing his throat softly to get your attention. “Need a minute?”

You look up, meeting his gaze. “Of course.”

He leads you away from the noise and bustle of the party, finding a quieter spot in another office far away. Once there, he turns to face you. “First of all, I just wanted to say... that we did good. The project was a success, and we managed to put aside our differences for the sake of the company. I guess we actually make a halfway decent team.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I guess we do. It’s surprising how well we managed to pull it off despite all the arguing.”

He lets out a small chuckle, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Who would have thought, huh? The company’s most vocal enemies actually working together and pulling off something amazing.”

“But I guess I have to ask... how are we going to keep this truce up? You're still a headache, you know?”

You shrug, trying to keep the mood light. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. Maybe we need to communicate better or add some ground rules.”

Jungwon's smile fades slightly, replaced by a look of frustration. “Damn it, you’re so frustrating. I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, and you just... never give a straight answer.”

You’re standing so close to each other that he has to tilt his head down slightly to maintain eye contact. “Do you have any idea how confusing you are? One minute I want to strangle you, and the next minute I want to—”

He cuts himself off abruptly, looking away. “Never mind, it doesn't matter.”

You’ve had enough of his mixed signals.

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “I’ve had enough. Do you like me or not? I can’t keep doing this if you’re just going to keep me guessing.”

He lets out a gruff laugh, shaking his head. “You’re always so straightforward, aren’t you? Can’t even give me a moment’s peace to figure out what I’m feeling.”

He looks back down at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, I… I think I do. Love you, I mean. I know it’s insane, and it’s probably the worst idea I’ve ever had, but I can’t seem to help it.”

A mixture of relief and joy floods through you. “I know because I love you too, asshole. It’s been driving me crazy, trying to figure out how you feel. But I need to know where we stand. Are we going to keep pretending like this isn’t happening?”

He's startled for a moment, not expecting your sudden admission. But as your lips meet him, he loses all self-control. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

You pull back slightly, breathless. “We can’t keep doing this. One minute we’re fighting, the next we’re kissing. We need to figure out what we really want.”

He nods, his forehead resting against yours. “I know. But right now, all I want is you.”

As the intensity of the moment takes over, he reaches for a hand behind him to lock the door.

👠

The next day,

Jungwon was walking down the hallway when he saw you. He immediately noticed something was off - you were walking a little slower than usual, and there was a slight limp in your steps.

He frowns, walking over to you with concern on his face. "Are you alright? You look like you're walking a little... stiffly."

You glare at him. "Your fault."

He raises an eyebrow at your accusation, his mind flashing back to the previous night’s... activities. He notes the slight flush still evident on your cheeks and the subtle limp in your gait. "Yeah, well, you didn’t seem to mind last night," he teases, tilting his head.

"Good thing no one caught us," you mutter, trying to keep your voice down.

He chuckles as he backs you into the wall behind you. "I’ll admit, you were pretty loud last night." He braces one hand against the wall beside your head, leaning in closer. "If someone had walked by, they definitely would have heard you. I might have had a hard time explaining… things."

"Let's say we were fighting," you suggest, rolling your eyes. "At least it’s a believable excuse."

He laughs, fully amused at the thought. "A fight? At 1 am? They would never believe that. Not with the sounds you were making. But for the record, I think it was worth the risk."

"Whatever. Come on," you grumble, embracing him for support as you start to walk. "I just hope I can make it through the day without collapsing."

"You know, we could always skip work and spend the day at my place. Give your legs some rest," he whispers to you.

"You think Mr. Jeon would allow us?" you ask skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "He's pretty strict about attendance, especially after big projects."

"Probably not. But I can be... persuasive when I want to be. If I tell him we need some time to discuss important project-related matters, he might just sign off on it." He squeezes your arm gently. "It’s only the responsible thing to do, after all."

"You do know that the project is finished, right? What project-related matters could we possibly discuss?" you remind him.

"I know. But we have to keep up appearances, don’t we? And who knows, we might find something... new to work on," he says with a playful grin. "And I can think of several things that need my immediate attention."

"I'm too sore, Jungwon!" you scold him, trying to keep your tone serious. "I can barely walk, let alone... do anything else."

"I bet you are. I might have gotten a little carried away last night." He pulls back slightly to look at your face, his expression softening. "We don’t have to do anything too strenuous, I promise. We can just relax, watch a movie, order some food."

"We did work really hard on that project. Maybe we do deserve a break," you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. "But what if Mr. Jeon finds out we’re just slacking off?"

He shrugs, a sly grin on his face. "Who cares what the CEO would allow? We’re both senior team members, and we’ve done a damn good job with the project. I’m sure we’ve earned a little break. And honestly, I’d much rather spend the day with you in my bed than stuck here in the office."

"Fine," you finally relent, unable to resist his charm. "But only because I really need a break."

A satisfied smile spreads across his face as you cave in. He reluctantly releases his hold on you. "Great. I’ll go talk to Mr. Jeon real quick, then we can get out of here."

He glances down at your legs, frowning slightly. "Can you even walk comfortably in those heels? You look like you’re about to fall over!"

"I gotta look hot, alright?" you retort, lifting your chin defiantly. "Can’t have everyone thinking I’m slacking off just because I’m sore."

He looks at you, taking in the tight pencil skirt and stiletto heels you’re wearing. He’s having a hard time disagreeing with your statement. "You look hot, alright, but you should’ve worn something more comfortable if you knew your legs would be this sore."

"I didn’t plan on being sore, genius. Just tell Mr. Jeon," you say, exasperated. "And hurry up. I don’t want to be standing here all day."

He rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. "Alright, alright. I’m going."

👠

Jungwon has his arm wrapped around your shoulders while lying on his bed as you both watch the movie. His fingers absently stroke your arm as he watches the screen.

He glances down at you, noticing how you look in his oversized t-shirt. There was something domestic and endearing about it that made him feel butterflies in his stomach.

He smiles, "You look better in my clothes than you do in your work clothes."

"You are kidding," you say, giving him a playful nudge. "Your clothes are so baggy on me. I look like I'm drowning in them."

He laughs and kisses the top of your head. "I'm serious. You should just start wearing my stuff and call it a day. It suits you better." He nuzzles his face into your hair. "And I have to admit, I like seeing you in my clothes and the way you smell like me."

You roll your eyes playfully. "You're just saying that because you like the idea of me being marked by you. Territorial much?"

He reaches over for a piece of food from the tray on the nightstand, holding it up to your lips. "Here, have some food. You must be hungry. Then maybe we can finish the movie and see if we can find something else to do."

You open your mouth, and he feeds you the food, watching as you chew, his eyes full of adoration. "Thanks. I was starving," you admit after swallowing. "This movie night idea was perfect."

Once you've swallowed, he sets the food aside and shifts on the bed. "You know, I never actually asked you out properly even though we already said 'I love you' to each other."

"I was waiting for you to say that," you reply, smiling up at him. "I mean, we've been acting like a couple, but I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to make it official."

He laughs again, but his eyes never leave your face. He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead. "Well, I guess I’m saying it now, huh? I still can’t believe we went from hating each other to this. It’s crazy."

"I know, right?" you say with a soft laugh. "I thought you were the most insufferable person I’ve ever met. But now, I can't imagine my life without you."

"I guess what they say is true. There’s a fine line between love and hate." Then he continued. "Although, I’m starting to think it was more of a ‘lust’ rather than a ‘love’ for a while there."

"Maybe," you say thoughtfully. "But I think there was always something more. We just didn't realize it."

"Well, now it’s definitely both. I think I went from ‘despising’ you to ‘desiring’ you to ‘loving’ you in record time." He said chuckling.

"Aren’t you gonna ask me out properly?" you say bluntly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"What, this isn’t formal enough? Maybe I should get on one knee and ask you properly then," he teases, pausing to look at you seriously. ‘’Alright..’’

"Will you officially be my girlfriend, even though we basically are already? Pretty please?"

"Yes, of course," you say with a grin. "But you better make it up to me with a proper date soon."

He then presses his lips against yours in a deep, passionate kiss. After a moment, he reluctantly pulls back, breaking the kiss but still keeping his face near yours. "Thank god. I was afraid you were going to say no."

"Bitch, are you serious right now?" you say, looking at him as if he was crazy. "You know I couldn't say no to you."

"No, I know you couldn’t resist me even if you tried, babe." He leans in to plant soft kisses on your cheek. "I love you. Mwah. Mwah."

"I love you too," you whisper, snuggling closer to him. "And for the record, I think this whole thing is pretty amazing. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad we were forced to work together."

"Me too," he says softly. "It's been a wild ride, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Yeah, it was clear that things did take a turn after that first kiss. It was a hectic rollercoaster of a ride, but I guess being forced to work on a project with the person you despise can turn it into either the best or worst experience ever.

But for you? It sure as hell was the best.

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