Sleepyhead. (version One.)

sleepyhead. (version one.)

in which you can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, at the most unconventional of places, which is how the traveller and paimon find out about your relationship with him.

pairing. neuvillette, scaramouche x gn reader

tags. fluff, slight(?) crack, established relationship

notes. if scaras part doesn't make sense i apologize in advance

alhaitham & lyney vers.

“Neuvillette, there's a — Wait. You're not Neuvillette…?”

Aether and Paimon stare at the sight, slightly dumbstruck. You're sprawled over the Chief Justice's desk, hair splayed over your face as you sleep. Your head rests on top of a few documents, and you're curled up in his seat as if it was exactly where you belonged.

Paimon frowns, floating over to you. She gives your shoulder a poke. You don't react. “Should we wake them…? Paimon doesn't think people are allowed to sleep in here, anyway.”

Aether disagrees. You wouldn't have been allowed in here if you didn't have something to do, right? That explained your presence, but it didn't explain why you were asleep in Neuvillette's chair… Besides, where was he?

Speak of the devil. Or, rather, dragon. The office door cracks open, and the man of the hour strides in.

“Neuvillette, there's someone sleeping on your desk!” Paimon informs him, “Should we wake them up?”

It's almost imperceptible, but Aether's gaze is sharp, and he catches the way the Iudex' eyes soften. He shakes his head. “No, leave them be. They will wake on their own accord.”

Paimon huffs. “That position definitely can't be comfortable… I say we move them to the couch there!”

Neuvillette seems to agree. Lifting you bridal style, he sets you on the couch gently. Swiftly, he pulls out a thick quilt from a cupboard and drapes it over you.

“You even have a blanket?!” Paimon squeaks, a little too loud. “Who even are they!?”

“My partner, of course.”

“YOUR PARTNER??”

Well, that was unexpected.

You stir.

Then, you bolt upright, leaping from the couch, eyes wide as your gaze lands on Neuvillette. “Shit, I fell asleep again, didn't I? I didn't mean to! I was going to surprise you but your chair is definitely too comfy for that and —”

He doesn't take more than three steps to reach you, easily snaking a hand around your waist. He only has to dip his head and his nose brushes against yours, silencing anything you had to say.

Aether has the strangest feeling that he's intruding on something too private.

“I assure you,” he murmurs lowly, “Seeing you is always a pleasant experience, surprise or no.”

You choke slightly, clearing your throat. “Don't be a sap.”

The both of you fall silent, just gazing into each other's eyes.

“Uhm,” Paimon interrupts awkwardly.

You screech, startling, head whipping back to see them. “You had guests over?! This is embarrassing. I'm leaving. Ta-ta!”

You bolt out of the room before anyone has any time to react.

“Was no one gonna tell me you were dating someone?!” Paimon accuses.

“Then, I must inform you that we are married.” There's a hint of a smile on Neuvillette's face now, as his eyes flicker toward the half-open door.

“I'm sorry, WHAT?”

“Hey, Aether, isn't that Hat Guy??” Paimon pipes in, pointing at Wanderer, formerly Scaramouche. “He looks really mad. Let's go see what he's up to.”

He did look mad. Furious, even. It's an odd expression to see on his face when Aether's used to his usual disinterest or mockery.

Except…

“Wait, he's walking towards someone. A sleeping someone. That's not good! We have to save them!”

The both of them rush up to him, interrupting his march toward his target. Aether stands in between you and Wanderer, acting as some sort of shield.

“What are you doing?” Aether asks.

Wanderer only scowls, swatting at him. “Get out of my way, you mewling quim.”

“No! We can't let you hurt them!” Paimon cries. “They're not even armed. They're asleep!”

He stops short at that. Confusion floods his features, which quickly morph into disbelief. “Hurt them? I'd never. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Aether doesn't relent. The guy looks entirely too murderous to not hurt anyone. “What's up with them, then?”

Venomously, his lips part, probably to spew some insult but he's interrupted by a soft voice, thick with sleep.

“Kuni…?”

The change is instantaneous. Wanderer goes slack immediately, the usual tension gone. He brushes past Aether quickly.

“Idiot. Why were you sleeping here?” he snarks without bite, crouching down to your level.

That is a good question. You're at the outskirts of Sumeru city, dead asleep under a tree and against a rock. “Yea,” Paimon agrees, “Why are you sleeping here?”

You all but collapse into Wanderer's arms. He stiffens, and everyone can see his internal battle of whether to reciprocate or push you away.

He chooses the latter, sitting on the ground so that you're half in his lap. The shock is palpable between Paimon and the blond.

You glance upward at Aether and Paimon almost lazily, a casual smile on your face. “I was waiting for Kuni here, and I got tired.”

“Here is no place to fall asleep,” he snaps, but the effect is ruined due to the fact that you're in his lap. “You can sleep at home. You have a bed for a reason.”

“Geez, just say you were worried,” you lament lightheartedly.

Aether sits too, and Paimon follows. “Why were you waiting anyway?”

“We were gonna have a picnic! I have the basket right —” you turn to the ground near the tree, only to find it bare. You sigh, disappointed. “Oh. It's gone.”

“Nevermind that,” Wanderer sighs. “This'll serve as a reminder not to sleep outdoors like some street rat. We can get lunch at a cafe.”

“Okay, but is no one going to comment on this?” Paimon flails an arm between the two of you, and your positions especially. “Because this is just weird. Like. What is happening?!”

Wanderer turns his gaze onto her, violet eyes electrifying. “Speak one word of this and you'll never see the light of day again.”

Damn, okay then.

sleepyhead. (version two.)

in which you can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, at the most unconventional of places, which is how the traveller and paimon find out about your relationship with him.

pairing. alhaitham, lyney x gn reader

tags. fluff, slight(?) crack, established relationship

notes. i wanted to write an alhaitham & lyney part for this idea that day but got tired so i dIDNT but here they are <3 also mightve sorta gotten carried away at lyneys part...

neuvillette & scaramouche vers.

“Paimon's so tired she could sleep for days,” Paimon complains, flopping against Lumine's shoulder. She points at someone off to the side. “Like that person over there! Paimon doesn't know why they don't just go inside their house to sleep, though.”

Lumine turns, curious. And there you were, slumped in the corner of the porch, clutching a lunchbox in one hand with a few books balancing atop it.

“Wait, isn't that Alhaitham's house??”

It was.

“Why's some random person sleeping on Alhaitham's front door? Let's go check them out!” Suddenly re-energized, Paimon floats over to your sleeping body.

You donned the uniform of an Akedemiya scholar, and on closer inspection, the books you held were on a variety of topics. Architecture, astrology, marine biology...? Lumine was vaguely reminded of Layla.

“We should wake them up. Alhaitham surely won't be happy to find someone in front of his house like this.” Paimon then glances around surreptitiously, voice lowering into a hushed whisper. “Plus, if they wake up when Kaveh comes home...”

Lumine sighs, giving your shoulder a gentle shake. You don't stir, not one bit. She moves to try again, crouching down to your level when—

“Don't.”

Paimon shrieks.

“Don't scare Paimon like that!” she whines, whirling around to face Alhaitham.

Lumine stands herself, tilting her head to the side curiously. Paimon asks the question for her. “Why not? Do you know them? Don't tell me you're friends — Paimon thought you didn't have any friends! Ahem. No offence.”

“None taken,” he says.

The most oddest thing happens then. He stoops down, a hand around your back, the other supporting your legs. He picks you up easily, and you only snuggle closer toward his chest, as if on instinct.

“Help me pick their things up. Thank you.”

“Wait, so you know them?” Paimon chirps in, filling the silence with ease as Alhaitham unlocks the door, allowing everyone inside.

Alhaitham nods. “I do. In fact, we are partners.”

“Like, in work or...?”

“As in romantically.”

Lumine studies the position the both of you were in. Your head buried in his chest, his arms tight around your figure. He raises an eyebrow, ever so slightly challenging, and she decides to say nothing. Aw, it seemed Alhaitham did have a heart.

Paimon shrieks, again. “You?! You're dating someone? How?!”

“Please keep your volume down,” he tells her, setting you on the couch softly. With an imperceptibly fond glance thrown your way, he admits you do not get a lot of sleep.

“Oh, sorry!” Paimon whispers. “But — but how?”

Alhaitham shrugs, the picture of nonchalance, but there is a tilt in his lip that hadn't been there before. “I have been told I make a good pillow.”

“Lyney's so cool, Paimon wonders how he does all his tricks!” Paimon gushes. The praise is not unfounded — that performance still had Lumine's head whirling. Paimon hums, “Do you think he'll tell us if we asked? He did so the last time...”

She shrugs in reply. It was worth a shot.

“Then let's go find him!!”

They turn backwards, walking down the steps toward the backstage — Lyney and Lynette would definitely be there still. The Opera House had already been cleared of anybody minutes ago, awestruck audience leaving the scene babbling away about the show.

Except for one last person.

Paimon frowns, pointing at someone in the front row seats. You're curled up in the cushy chair, fast asleep. Paimon tutts. “How could someone fall asleep during Lyney's show? It was so good!”

Lumine shushes her. There wasn't any need to comment about anyone else. They had to find Lyney, after all.

“Lyney!!” Paimon calls, peeking a head in. “You have to tell Paimon how you did those tricks!”

The magician in question turns, smile widening at the sight of them. “And if it isn’t my two most loyal fans! I'm afriad I must disappoint you, a magician never reveals his secrets.”

“Hello, Lumine, Paimon,” Lynette greets them. “We're about to have lunch at the cafe. Would you like to join us?”

“Food!” Paimon squeals, eyes shining now. She nods eagerly.

Lyney laughs smoothly. “Let's be off then! We mustn't let my darling be waiting too long. If not, they might just asleep.”

“That reminds Paimon! There was someone sleeping in the front row — the front row!” Paimon huffs, kicking her feet. “So rude! Your show definitely wasn't boring enough to sleep through.”

At this, Lyney and Lynette share a glance. Lumine doesn't comment on it, for Paimon's already on another spiel.

You're still asleep, curled up in the same cat-like way as before. Paimon points at you, mouth parted to speak, but Lyney beats her to the punch, shushing her.

“Let me,” he says.

“Erm, what's he doing?”

Lynette sighs. “Being a dumbass.”

Lyney cups your cheek with his palms, pressing a kiss to your nose. (“Does he do this with everyone who falls asleep??” Paimon asks, almost horrified.) He smiles, something softer, something sweeter than Lumine's ever seen him smile. “Rise and shine, mon ange.”

Your eyes crack open. At the sight of him, you avert your gaze.

“I'm sorry I fell asleep during your show,” you murmur regretfully.

He shakes his head. “Nevermind that, darling. Did you sleep well?”

“To the sound of your voice?” you ask, voice lilting, almost enchanting. “Perfectly.”

He flushes. Like an honest to god blush. Even Paimon is struck dumb at the sight.

“You flatter me,” he laughs, helping you out of your seat. His gaze never seems to leave yours.

“I can't help it.” You pout. The two of you seem to be in your own world at this point. “It's not my fault my boyfriend has the most soothing voice.”

“Wait. BOYFRIEND?!”

we never go out of style!

PAIRING. haechan x fem!oc

CATEGORY. short smau, fluff, crack, humor, celebrity!au, athlete!haechan, singer!reader, strangers to lovers-ish

WARNINGS. language, hyuck being downbad

SYNOPSIS. what happens when one of the famous professional volleyball players of the country publicly shoots his shot at a global popstar? well, she shows up to his game with his mother, of course! [or alternatively: the whole world watches as a popstar and an athlete fall in love.]

STATUS. on going!

NOTE. this is based on the recent… taylor news… hehe 🤭 i know very little about volleyball (everything i know i got from haikyuu tbh) so im sorry in advance 😭 this will just be short, probably around 3-5 parts only! ignore timestamps!

— playlist!

PARTS!

min’s circle | hyuck’s circle

01 : just give him a chance!

02 : meanwhile

03 : quietly hanging out

04 : used to this

05 : ???

TAGLIST. closed.

in which you aren't allowed 5 ft away from wanderer

a/n: it's probably bc of his mom sorry, he's like an clingy cat

there isn't much noise that permeates the air within the cottage. a soft glow of the sunlight penetrates through the stained windows, a fresh scent of newly brewed tea wafts through the air, and some windows lay slightly ajar to let in a fresh breeze of air.

periodically, what does quietly sound through the living room is the rustle of pages, flipped ever so often when your eyes have finished looking over the enthralling words that lie on the paper. you're perched on the slightly rustic sofa, soaking up the serene moments in the morning before it was time to complete set tasks that you had planned.

there is a light tickle that touches the side of your thigh, which reminds you of the presence that rests beside you, the top of his head lightly pressed against your leg. a confirmation that you’re there, with him. he certainly looks the part of a doll when he’s asleep, his porcelain skin milky smooth and his face finally relieved of the annoyed expression he always carried when conscious.

it was a miracle he was able to even close his eyes for a period of time, or even rest for a moment. he’s always been alert, never free from the torment of nightmares when he closes his eyes for a moment. you’re pleased that he’s seemed to make some progress staying in sumeru. after all, it's difficult to fall asleep with piercing lavender eyes aimed straight at your figure laid in bed at night (he brushes off your complaints that it's creepy, and refuses to leave the room when you tell him to do something better with his time if he can't sleep).

the light bustling noises of the streets of sumeru signal that it was time for the market to open up for the day, and your sign to get ready to start your day.

you gently move slightly and place a pillow in the spot that you had occupied just a moment ago, hoping to mimic the presence that you were still by the wanderers' side. usually, he would accompany you throughout the day, but a look at his peaceful expression urged you to let him rest for once. you’ll be back soon anyways. you check the kitchen one last time, ensuring the mental list you had made was correct, before tugging on an outer coat and shoes at the door.

your hand doesn't reach the handle before you hear a disgruntled voice behind you, the fabric of your clothes stretched between lithe fingers.

“where are you going?”

he’s displeased, you figured by his tone, and by the irritated scrunch of his eyebrows. his eyes zone in on yours, still rapidly blinking away the sleep that clouds his eyes. he looks arguably endearing in the moment. you reach to brush the few strands of hair away from his face.

“just to the market for some ingredients.” you tug his kimono back to its proper place. “i'll be back soon, so you can rest some more.” his body doesn't budge when you attempt to push him away from the front door, and instead moves towards his own pair of shoes.

“what are you doing?”

“i'm coming with you.”

“i just said you should-”

“i'm coming with you.” his words are absolute. you sigh, not willing to try and argue this out; he's equally stubborn as he is strong. there's no way you could force him back onto the sofa unless you were physically there as well. the door swings open and your hand reaches behind you.

“fine, let's go together.” you know your words satiate the confining feeling in his chest, affirmed by the way he takes your hand despite the huff that leaves his mouth.

-

“thank you for coming,” the goddess of wisdom greets you at the sanctuary of surasthana. you politely introduce yourself, dutifully ignoring the hostile gaze you feel stinging at the right side of your face.

“the acting grand sage has spoken highly of you!” nahida beams, “i hope you can assist me with something.” you sincerely doubt alhaitham truly had bestowed you the honor of such high praise out of the goodness of his heart, judging by the presence of a glare that is still targeted towards you. he must be the one that had caused the whole havoc in sumeru, not someone you would willingly be around. still, the archon of your homeland has something to request of you, so you reluctantly agree to hear her out.

the task was simple - lead the man, wanderer is what he called himself, around sumeru and show him the sights to see, and accompany him during the day to ease him into his new life. in other words, become his companion for a while. you could hear his internal thoughts of distaste towards the idea while the archon explained your job (not that you didn't have your reserves as well). however, it certainly sounded better than working with the insufferable scholars of the akademiya, so you agreed.

“i'll be in your care, wanderer. i hope we get along.”

all things considered, he wasn’t completely terrible all the time. you took him around the whole city of sumeru, pulling him to interact with countless adults and children alike, and assisting many who were in need of help. you took him to the akademiya, letting him read the endless amounts of books that reside in the building. you took him to the forests, where you learn that he wasn't entirely an asshole, having been saved from slipping off a high branch and potentially falling into a circle of fungi (you do smack him lightly for not telling you that he was able to fly around, saying that this trip would've been much quicker). you take him to the deserts, where you finally start to learn of glimpses of his past.

“kunikuzushi? certainly sounds much better than wanderer.”

“your tastes are truly abhorrent.”

those moments would slowly came to an end, when nahida informed you that there were others that were also to guide him around, just as you had done. you figured it would be good for him to hang around various different people, so you didn’t mind the change, and returned to work in the akademiya.

though, your peaceful life didn’t last long as a certain man decided that he would be uncooperative at your disappearance.

a knock on your door was unexpected, and being dragged by the arms by the traveler was even more so. “should i be worried where you are taking me?” aether does pray to whoever is willing to listen that you would forgive him for (quite literally) throwing you to the wolves (wanderer). paimon sputter’s words of reassurance, which lead you to conclude it had to do with a certain dark haired man that you had accompanied before.

nahida is outside the sanctuary when you arrive. she doesn’t seem too disheveled, to your relief; he didn’t get physically violent at the least.

“is he angry?”

“mm… not at you, at least.” she tilts her head. “i think?” you’ll take those chances, you suppose. an irritated man trudges out of the doors, clearly exhausted to the core. apologies spill out of his lips towards the archon of wisdom before he scuffles away. four pairs of eyes watch as his figure disappears.

“that’s the sixteenth one? or was it the seventeenth?” paimon questions out loud, eyeing your expression as subtly as she can (how the hell did you manage to subdue the ex-fatui harbinger, is the biggest question that was on her mind, and most definitely showed on her face).

you grin. "i’ve truly been honored to be chosen by such a demanding man, right?” you don’t stay much longer to see their expressions of disagreement (and concern by a certain two).

the moment you stepped through the doors, his gaze snapped onto your figure in an instant. he was by your side within a blink of an eye, his hands reaching to pull your wrists toward him.

“where the hell were you.”

“i thought buer told you everything. it’s good to interact with different people aside from myself.”

“i don’t need to be surrounded by unsightly insects.” you hold back a teasing smile at the implications of his words. there's one thing that you come to understand about the wanderer after being beside him for a while - his words betray his thoughts if you just look a little deeper into them. you know the reasons why he reacted the way that he did; come to understand the reasons why he was so infuriated at your disappearance.

“right, i’m your one and only companion hmm?”

–

from that moment on, you have never been rid of wanderer. you're not sure when your job as his part time companion turned to spending 24 hours with him by your side. his presence slowly seeped into your daily life, your cottage where you reside, there was not a time where you two would be seen alone. after all, being beside you was where he decided he belongs in this new life.

extra:

“where are you going?”

“to the akademiya.”

“where are you going?”

“to the kitchen.”

“where are you going?”

“the bathroom."

...

"do not follow me.”

open the gates, let me in

summary. jeno always seems willing to do anything for you, and it takes a lot of inner nagging for him to finally realize why.

pairing. jeno x y/n ft donghyuck, jaemin

genre. fluff, college au, best friends to lovers

disclaimers. swearing, denial resonates so deeply with me its humiliating

word count. 4.0k

released. 02.05.23

author's note. feedback is appreciated! BAEKHYUN IS BACK FROM WAR 🙏🏻 WE CHEERED

masterlist

For what feels like the nth time this hour, a certain honey-skinned boy shamelessly rolls his eyes at one of his best friends. That title, however, is in serious danger of being revoked if he has to spend one more agonizing second in this store.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't ditch your ass right now," Donghyuck jeers. His habit of poking his cheek with his tongue shines through as impatience radiates off of his body.

Jeno ignores his complaining, eyes diligently scanning the rows of colourful fragrance bottles.

He's quite overwhelmed. The labels, brands, scents, and undertones—they all mean nothing to him. The only thing he's somewhat familiar with is the brand of the cologne he takes a liking to, but the strong woods and smokes of the men's cologne selection is a distinct opposite of what he’s looking for.

It leaves him to stand cluelessly among the shelves of white flowers and citruses and berries, trying to pick out the combination he thinks you'd like the most.

"Where would you even go? I drove," Jeno deadpans. 

He gently picks up a translucent, pale red bottle. Blood orange and peony.

Popping off the cap, he spritzes a tiny bit on his inner wrist and brings it up close to his nose. The scent is like a punch in the face, leaving him reclining back with a furrowed brow.

Too strong.

"We're going to be late to Jaemin's if you don't hurry the fuck up," Donghyuck says, burning holes through Jeno's skull before letting out a deep sigh.

"Can you just pick one so we can go? We look like fucking idiots here."

Jeno only hums, cracking a small smile.

He couldn't chide him for being wrong—the two of them look very out of place. Their sharp silver jewelry, inked skin, and dazed boyish smiles contrast against the dainty bottles standing atop the soft pink shelves of the women's fragrance section like black on white.

"Firstly," Jeno begins, voice riddled with amusement. "You don't give a fuck about punctuality-"

"Oh look at you, going off with your big words."

Jeno spins around. "Hyuck, you're drinking a matcha frappucino while looking like that."

He points at the green drink the boy was sipping on, the extra whipped cream he asked for contradicting his hard exterior.

Donghyuck scoffs. "Sorry I don't like to drink death in a cup," he drawls, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

He breaks his glare on the black-haired boy as he sees two girls standing a distance away, his face doing a 180 as he notices them not-so-discreetly staring.

Smirking, Donghyuck confidently throws them a wink. He watches with pride as flattered giggles spill from their lips, before turning back to Jeno, who had picked up another bottle.

"Why are you even doing this?" Donghyuck asks out of genuine curiosity, though it's hidden underneath the guise of annoyance.

"Y/N asked me to."

Here’s some money. Get me something you think I'd like, yeah? you had said. Or something that you'd like. I'll still wear it, I don't care. I trust your judgment.

Donghyuck snorts. "I'm convinced you'd do anything for Y/N," he mutters.

It's an offhand comment, yet it makes the black-haired boy put his tongue between his teeth as a weird, sprawling feeling erupts in his chest.

The thought of why he seemed willing to do anything for you had never occurred to him. Not because the thought had never shown up to the gates of his consciousness—Jeno was uncomfortably familiar with the strange feeling in his stomach when you were around—but because he never let it in.

He doesn't dare to let it in, even going as far as telling it to leave and never return each time it knocks—because if he did, he would spend hours in this perfume section, legs going numb from standing as it invaded and overtook his brain, preventing him from getting anything done.

His eyes land on one last bottle. It's a clear one, with a clean, minimalistic label.

Lazy Sunday Morning. Maison Margiela.

Jeno repeats the action he's done with multiple bottles by now; spritzing the fragrance onto a new, untouched area of his inner arm and bringing it up to smell.

It's soft, it's floral, it's feminine. It infiltrates his senses in the way fresh, cotton bed sheets would. The soft sun after the rain.

It's how you look when he comes over to your apartment unannounced on a random weekend morning: wearing an oversized white shirt and a pair of high-waisted sports shorts.

It's the strawberry lip gloss that always stains your lips. It's your Hello Kitty pillowcase that you wash way more often than Jeno washes his, for which you constantly nag him for being unhygienic.

It's your flushed, red face at parties, your preference for tea over coffee—your smaller, softer hand grabbing his calloused one when he gets nervous.

Jeno thinks it's you, and he hopes you think it's you too.

He slowly turns around to Donghyuck, who's fidgeting with the tattered sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Smell this," he prompts, snapping the brown-haired boy out of his daze.

Donghyuck tugs at Jeno's arm, bringing it up to his face and taking a quick whiff before letting it fall. "Smells nice. I'm sure Y/N will like it. Now let's go," he presses, already taking off towards the exit.

Jeno only shakes his head, gaze falling on the bottle he held in his ring-clad fingers. He thinks it would look nice on your vanity, next to all your other bottles of products.

He doesn't know what they do, but they make you, you.

Donghyuck, whose brown strands are now dyed a refreshing purple, throws his head back howling with laughter as he sees you and Jeno approach the food court table.

He receives several displeased stares from nearby people, but he doesn't seem to care in the slightest, only being able to focus on what Jeno is wearing.

"Oh my fucking god, Jeno," he wails incoherently, pointing at his friend's pants while clutching his stomach. "What- what are those?"

Your choice to wear a pair of light-washed, ripped skinny jeans to come to the mall turned out to be a massive mistake. You're bitter towards the person who first said "beauty is pain" because of how miserably right they are; whose idea was it to make girls' pants so uncomfortable?

The walk across the parking lot to the entrance was enough for your legs to start screaming for relief, resulting in you pleading with Jeno to switch with you.

Jeno drops down into the empty seat next to Jaemin, letting out a deep sigh. He rubs at his temples as Donghyuck's high-pitched, maniacal laughter erratically rings throughout the air.

This is exactly why he was adamant about declining your request; Lee Donghyuck is an entity of pure evil, and Jeno felt the humiliation creeping up on him from behind like a tiger ready to pounce.

But as he always seems to do, he relented.

Now, his sweatpants sit comfortably on your hips, bunching up at your ankles while he wears your jeans, the pant ends stopping halfway up his calves.

"She was chafing," he mutters, referring to you.

Donghyuck laughs loudly and unapologetically, reaching down to poke at Jeno's bare knee through the large rips of the jeans. His actions result in him getting a hard slap on the arm, eliciting a pained "ow!" from him.

You give Jeno a sweet smile, slipping him another whispered apology before feeling a gentle tug at your wrist.

Renjun begins to drag you away from the table, mumbling something along the lines of "new premium watercolour set" and "20% off". Jumping up from his seat, Donghyuck follows suit with a devilish smile etched on his face, immediately asking the shorter boy to buy him a vinyl he had his eye on from earlier.

Jaemin watches as the three of you fade into the crowd of customers, leaving only him and Jeno at the table. As soon as you disappear from his sight, he whips around with anticipation. "So?"

A shaky blink. "So..?"

"So? Have you thought about what I said?"

Jeno doesn't respond as he stills, his lips pursed carefully.

Of course he had thought about what Jaemin said.

He tried his goddamn hardest not to, just like he has with every other possible reasoning behind his feelings that wandered into scary, uncharted territory—but how could he not? It wasn't something that he could just forget, like remembering to wash his socks or buying milk.

A week ago, Na Jaemin had brought upon him a revelation that was far too casually dropped at one of the group's regular get-togethers. It was like a silent bomb, and it had been doing no less than eating at him alive.

He wants to deny it so badly. In fact, that's exactly what he's been doing—denying its possibility of being true, denying its existence at all.

If it was going to slip through the cracks of the iron gates, Jeno was going to make sure it felt as unwelcome as possible.

And that's exactly what he does.

"I have," he begins meekly.

Upon hearing these words, Jaemin's lips stretch into a wide smile. "And?"

"...and I don't think you're right."

The lights in the younger's eyes flicker out just as quickly as they turned on. He doesn't even bother to hide his disappointment, giving his best friend a deadpan stare. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

He was expecting this reaction from Jaemin, but he couldn't let it get to him. Not when he couldn't let the narrative Jaemin was pressing so adamantly a week ago be true.

A loud sigh rips through the air. "Jeno, why are you so in denial?"

"I'm not in denial. It's not true."

Jaemin leans forward, looking into his best friend's eyes. He could tell there was a deep, buried sense of longing behind those dark irises.

"Lee Jeno," he begins slowly.

"I have known you nearly my entire life. I have been by your side since we were puny, disgusting first graders, and I have never seen you be so caring towards someone."

Jaemin has always doted on you.

He reminds you of a worrying mother; a fairy who is always there to remind you to dress warmly and take your vitamins. When you had a fever, Jeno had knocked on the door of your apartment only to be let in by Jaemin, who had been in your kitchen making his mother's soup recipe for you.

Donghyuck is the playful, sarcastic brother you never had.

He's the one who always encourages you to down another shot, to get you to do crazy things like jumping off the roof into a pool. But he's warm when he needs to be; Jeno had walked in one night through the door of his and Donghyuck's shared apartment to find you dumping your emotions onto the honey-skinned boy's shirt as he whispered words of consolation.

Renjun indulges your passionate side.

You share so much in common with him and you value his opinion like a sacred script. He's your 3AM therapist for your woes, he's your debate opponent for any topic—he's the one who encouraged you to chase after your dreams when you had trouble deciding on whether to choose what your parents wanted for you, or what you wanted for yourself.

Jeno thinks he's just Lee Jeno to you. 

The captain of the basketball team you met back in junior year of high school, who’s an architecture major at the same university you go to. Your best friend, but only if you thought so.

When it's about the others, Jeno seems to see everything—how they care for you, in what ways they’re integrated into your life—he doesn’t seem to notice how much he cares for you. 

He doesn't think about how sometimes, he miraculously finds himself entering your apartment at the crack of dawn to remind you to bring an assignment that's due that day. And when you knock your hand against his, silenting asking for him to hold it, he’ll reluctantly put his cold, mysterious image aside to gently slip his hand into yours.

There was one time when you asked to go stargazing in the dead of the night. Despite the subzero weather outside, not an ounce of regret coursed through his body when he agreed to go with you.

He couldn’t feel his fingers when he was out there, but it didn’t feel like it mattered when he saw you pointing at constellations with a smile of pure euphoria painted on your features.

He doesn’t notice how you notice that he cares.

The way your eyes lit up when he quietly entered your room with medicine and a hot water bottle went unseen by him. You never told him that Renjun was only half of the reason why you chose to pursue art, and that seeing him choose architecture over the path his own parents wanted for him pushed you over the edge.

He seems to remember you curled up to Donghyuck's side, but not how as soon as you saw him walk through the doorway, you gently peeled yourself up from the couch, out of Donghyuck's hold to throw yourself onto him, because you had come to their apartment looking for him. For his hold, for his comfort.

No, he doesn't notice these things because he's selectively blind when it comes to the possibility of there ever being a 'you and him', and it drives Jaemin nuts.

Jaemin laughs, dumbfounded. 

"For fucks sake, Jeno," he exclaims, dragging his hands down his face. "You're literally wearing women's jeans right now."

He removes his hands from his face, staring deeply into his best friend's eyes in a last-ditch effort to get through to the stubborn boy.

"You're in love with her."

"I'm sorry."

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times those two words had left Jeno's lips.

The party downstairs blares in the background, though it’s muffled by the closed door. Jeno’s murmured apologies are the only sounds that fill the air, other than the squelches of water as you squeezed your shirt in the sink. 

You turn your head around to look at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. He’s sitting on the edge of the acrylic bathtub, sliding his rings up and down his fingers with a distant look on his face.

"Stop apologizing. It's okay."

Despite graduating two years ago, Johnny Suh still parties like it’s his full-time job, and being in his second-floor bathroom makes the room feel like it’s a physical manifestation of his spirit.

There’s two lights above the bathroom mirror, though one of them had blown its fuse. It casts a dim, aquamarine light that reaches every corner of the small room, highlighting the slightly frayed shower curtains and dark crevices of the floor tiles. There’s a few shaving products and the remains of a half-smoked blunt strewn across the surface of the otherwise clean countertop.

The reason why you and Jeno are in the bathroom instead of downstairs isn’t one the boy’s proud of. 

You didn’t run into Jeno until around halfway through the night. They say you haven’t had the real college experience if you haven’t gone to a Johnny Suh party, and the flocks of people that covered every part of the estate prove how much people value getting their tuition’s worth.

A light sheen of sweat is apparent on your forehead as you try your best to weave your way through the masses. You don’t even know where you’re going, and you could feel it growing stuffier as more people spilled into the halls.

It’s only until you suddenly feel a piercing cold sensation on your chest do you see something other than drunk college students pressed together.

You come face-to-face with Lee Jeno, who’s staring at you with big, round eyes and lips parted in sheer horror.

You glance down at your own body. The center of your chest is several shades darker, a large wet splotch prominently standing out against the beige fabric of your long-sleeved top. 

Your eyes dart between your top and Jeno’s red solo cup that had several droplets of liquid dribbling down its side. Realizing what just happened, you can’t help but laugh.

“Why hello to you too, mister,” you say between giggles.

Jeno’s face is flushing redder by the second, and there’s a big bump on his head from the imaginary hammer that struck him for being so stupid. 

A few seconds go by of just him staring at you before stutters spill from his lips. 

“I- Oh my- oh my god,” he breathes out. “Oh my fucking god, Y/N, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay. I needed an excuse to get away from all the noise anyways,” you cut him off, reaching for his free hand. 

“Come with me to the bathroom?”

The words flow out of your mouth like a smooth, running stream; casual, and far more relaxed than the jittery feeling in Jeno's stomach. He doesn’t resist in the slightest, the feeling of your touch sending a surge of electricity up his arm.

Finally looking up from the metal around his fingers, Jeno’s breath hitches.

His eyes trail down your figure with innocent intention. The thin straps of your ivory, silk camisole delicately sit on your collarbone, your black miniskirt hugging your waist. 

He doesn’t realize he’s even staring, not when he’s mesmerized by the slope of your nose, or the outline of your cupid’s bow.

There’s something that the aquamarine glow is doing to you that makes his jaw go slack.

Usually, he’d be alert, keeping his thoughts in check—but the slight intoxication seeped through him, and he can feel himself growing careless.

Jeno's hand twitches. You're within arm's reach, he could reach for your waist and pull you right into him—but he doesn't, because that would ruin the scene.

This scene of you standing in front of the sink, twisting your shirt in your hands with a small crease in your brow. It's so domestic, so perfect—he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to see you like this every day—

—and then, he hears it.

There it is, the violent banging on the gates. It echoes through the halls from outside, persistent and maybe just a bit desperate. Or, was it actually his heart thumping against his chest?

Open up! it yelled. You would do anything for her. You're in love with her, idiot!

Had it been his heart all along?

"There we go," you give your top one final twist, grinning with satisfaction as the water drips down clear.

You turn the sink off and unravel the top from its scrunched-up form, flapping it a few times to prevent creases.

"That should do it. Okay, let's go back downstairs. Hyuck bet ten dollars I couldn't beat him in beer pong and I'm going to make him eat his wor-"

Your rambling is cut off as soon as you turn toward the boy on the edge of the tub. He's staring at you with misty eyes, and you can't stop yourself from taking a step closer.

"Jeno?" you call, leaning down to meet him at eye level.

Eyes twinkling with mirth, you lower yourself into a crouching position, and your hand finds its place on his knee. You let your fingers drum on the fabric of his black jeans, musing your wonder.

"You're drunk, aren't you? How much have you had to drink?"

The action is mindless, and Jeno knows it. The two of you often shared small, habitual touches—but this time, it's wholly different.

"I'm- I'm not drunk," he croaks out.

A light-hearted snicker. "Sure you aren't."

"I'm not."

"Then why is your face so red?"

"I'm just... thinking about something."'

An amused chuckle leaves your mouth before you muse your wonders, "You're drunk, Jen. But, would you care to share?"

Jeno feels himself unclicking the locks. "Okay," he huffs out nervously.

The iron gates swing slightly ajar.

"I'm thinking about how I would do anything for you."

A pause goes by. The sound of the music downstairs seems to have gotten even louder, to the point where Jeno can't hear his own breathing. He wonders if he's even still breathing as his gaze rests on you intensely, waiting for your reaction.

When your fingers stop drumming against his knee, Jeno's world stops.

"O-oh."

Your expression is indecipherable as his words sink in, eyes growing rounder and your lips part.

Your eyes dart around Jeno's face to see if you can locate a trace of playfulness, a hint that he wasn't thinking straight—and while his flushed, rosy cheeks are a telltale that he's a little intoxicated, his eyes are heavy with sincerity.

He's being serious, and it brings you to a loss for words.

"A-and? What did you conclude?" you manage to stutter out, peering up at him.

This is exactly what he was afraid of. Afraid of your disappointed expression, your lips ready to utter the inevitable words he wished he'd never have to hear.

He's not even sure what those words exactly are, because Lee Jeno feels like a fucking mess right now, but he'll know in a few seconds after you say them—

"I... I don't really know why..."

A lightbulb clicks in your head. You seem to realize Jeno's implications before he even does himself.

"Jeno?" you prompt, voice feather-soft.

The boy's eyes are screwed shut by now, unable to look you in the eyes. He's trying to lock the gates closed again, as they were for so long.

"Hmm?" he weakly hums.

"I love you."

Jeno's attempts are futile. The thought is victorious.

It pushes past his regret-driven efforts. It floods his head akin to a raging tsunami.

It's so loud. The music in the background is so loud.

You are so loud. Your eyes, your grip on his knee, your words—

—they're so loud.

She just said she loves me.

"I've loved you for so long. Do you love me too?" you whisper, hand subconsciously reaching for his.

It shocks Jeno how his voice doesn't fail him. "You love me?"

"I do."

"M-more than a friend?"

"Much more. I love you like I'll never have you, even if I always find myself in your arms," you say, letting out a dry chuckle as a small smile graces your face.

"Do you love me too?" you repeat.

The gates snap off their hinges from the sheer force, and the thought chants a victory song—

You're in love with her!

Jeno blinks.

I'm in love with her.

Jeno never seemed to mind, when it came to you. He never seemed to mind wearing your light blue skinny jeans for you, and he never seemed to mind looking out of place with his grungy demeanor inside of a delicate perfume section either. He never seemed to mind waking up at an ungodly hour for you, and he never seemed to mind holding you when the world was against you.

And as you look at him, your face glimmering underneath the dim, bathroom light—it clicks.

Jeno suddenly realizes why he'd be willing to do anything for you. He'd be willing to get you the moon and the stars if you asked, because he loves you.

And, because you deserve it. It's the least he could do for you for loving him.

Reaching out a wavering hand, Jeno gently pulls you up from your crouching position so the both of you could stand. Your gaze never leaves him, your previous question still hanging in the air.

The boy rests his hand delicately on your jaw. His eyes glaze over your face, taking in your beautiful features before landing on your lips with a shaky exhale.

"Do you love me too?" you ask for a third time, your irises shining with hope.

"Fuck," he breathes out. "I- I do. I love you, so much."

You don't even get the chance to beam at his confession before he closes the distance between the two of you, his soft lips against yours.

DON’T BLAME THE LOVECATS — M.LIST

→neighbor!jaemin x neighbor f!reader

genre: social media au, neighbors au, fluff, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, humor

synopsis: jaemin and yn have never had a good relationship due to their troublesome cats but it only gets worse when both felines cause chaos and wreck property forcing these enemies to spend day and night together to avoid eviction and charges for the troubles, not expecting this experience to lead them towards unexpected information and interesting feelings.

started: 011423 | ended: 042923

schedule: tuesday, thursday, + saturday 3:30pm cst

an: here’s another smau for you guys, Ik I said I was done making them but I’ve had this in the works since evol was completed and I hope you guys like it <3

minino and dooie’s mixtape: don’t blame the lovecats

profiles 1 | profiles 2 | prologue

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8

part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15

part 16 part 17 part 18 part 19 part 20 part 21 part 22

part 23 part 24 part 25 part 26 part 27 part 28 part 29

part 30 part 31 part 32 part 33 part 34 part 35 part 36

epilogue

bonus

taglist: @bbymatz @dandelionxgal @multieonnie @johnniverse @lunaryoongie @w3bqrl @liljeongseong @n0hyuck @minjiville @xxxx-23nct @liliansun @ihrtnyu @st4rryhae @kpopwh0r3 @buubbbbly @luvenshiti @igotkpoops @xuimhao @enhapocketz @wonnou @channnaa @najm00