𓏲ּ ❤︎ toothless sneaks into you and hiccup's bed, much to hiccup's annoyance!
༯ genderneutral!reader ⸝⸝ u and hiccup share a bed ⸝⸝ toothless is a third wheel ⸝⸝ bad writing ⸝⸝ lowercase intended ⸝⸝ artist is unknown, if you know who made this fanart, please let me know.
your eyes blearily adjusted to the sun rays peeking through the curtains, the feeling of wet pressure up against your hand. your finger twitched, the scaly nose shoving itself to where your hand was grazing. “toothless,” you chuckled, flattening your hand to slide up against his head. the small little head spikes, that shockingly felt like rubber. toothless purred, his bright green eyes shining in the morning light.
toothless moved his body up further, a gummy smile, on the night-fury's face. “hi, sweetie.” you cooed, scratching his chin with the tips of your nails. toothless cooed back; having no care for the other objects on the bed, toothless clambered his way over the plush of the bed and . . . hiccup, legs pushing hiccup down into the bed. hiccup groaned, “toothless!” hiccup's eyes, blinked open, narrowing in as toothless purred under your touch, not caring about hiccup's annoyance.
“toothless, get out!” hiccup cries in annoyance, pushing himself up to shove toothles's side. toothless let out an offended growl, “hiccup,” you chided, flitting your eyes towards him. “he's fine, don't be mean.” toothless purred in content, curling into your hands, turning to stick his tongue out at hiccup. hiccup gaped, his mouth wide open, “he's manipulating you!” hiccup sighed, “he just stuck his tongue out at me,”
you grinned, childishly, placing your hands under toothless jaw to present his face to hiccup. “this angel?” you questioned, kissing the edge of toothless's nose. toothles's tail smacking the side of bed at the praise. “you're both so annoying,” hiccup rolled his eyes, scooting over to lay next to toothless. throwing his arm around the both of you, toothless eyes closing in delight at the attention. you giggled at the night fury's antics, “you love us,” toothless gave a small hum of agreement. hiccup sighed good naturedly, shaking his head, tightening his arm around the both of you.
── .✦ s. night time shenanigans with your girlfriend.
── .✦ cw. fluff, no use of pronouns referring to reader, reader gets called pretty
── .✦ wc. 1.4k
── .✦ div. cred. @toastray
── .✦ an. blonde dani i'll miss you so much 💔 anyways here's something short to remind yall that i also do written fics and also as an apology for missing from IRL for weeks LAWLLL
she may just be the most beautiful woman you've ever seen, sitting on your lap like that with the biggest smile splitting her face. her blonde curls tickle the tip of your nose, her hands cold from the air conditioning, just the perfect weight to be considered comfortable for you as she rests her head on your shoulder. your hands are torn between holding her hand and resting on her waist, so you opt for holding one and resting the other.
daniela's voice fades away into the background as you stare at her face like a lovestruck fool, pupils dilated and practically glowing with adoration for the woman in front of you. you smile and nod with every pause, hoping that she hadn't noticed that you'd already zoned out minutes ago.
but too late.
"y/n!" daniela exclaims, voice high-pitched with disapproval, hitting you softly on the shoulder. "are you sure you're listening to me?"
the one-sided staring contest from your end is broken when you blink. "uh... yes?"
"oh, really?" her eyes are lidded, unamused, disbelieving. arms crossed. smile gone and replaced by her lip pushed out in a barely visible pout.
"really..?"
"yeah? and so what did manon tell me again?"
"uhm." you're missing the soft skin of her hand warmed up inside yours. the emptiness she had left you with was instead brought up, to scratch the nape of your neck as you try to come up with a likely answer. "that you're... so undeniably gorgeous?"
she doesn't believe an ounce of it. why, it's obvious even to a brainless creature how you'd gone for flattery to get away, but you didn't mean to — you just really longed to go back to carving every inch of her face into the front of your skull, more important than all else and more permanent than a tattoo imbedded into your skin.
"you suck," the latina scoffs, but her tone contradicts her words. "you don't deserve my yapping, i hate you."
"aw, don't say that!" you whine, caging her back inside your arms as she attempts to get off of your lap. "you know you love me, don't you? of course you do."
"you suck," she says again, but there's a smile that comes with it.
you bury your face into her shoulder, squeezing her. you shift your leg a little to balance out the weight. "i'm sorryyyy. it's not my fault you're just so distracting to look at. tell me again, i'll listen this time, promise."
"well, now i forgot what i was even talking about." daniela huffs. she looks down at your head resting on her chest, at the arms pinning hers to her body, and now her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth. with a little effort she brings a hand up to pet your head lovingly, messing up your hair and eliciting a content hum from deep inside your chest.
you stay like that for a few minutes until you're aware of the absence of her response. you look up again, eyes meeting hers, and immediately you light up into a smile.
the stupid effect she has on you. makes you feel helpless but so, so much more special than everyone else.
she knows you're staring and so she stares back, moving closer ever so slowly to press your foreheads together, grinning.
"you're so pretty," you murmur, entranced. you couldn't stop yourself from pressing a feathery kiss to her forehead, watching proudly when she scrunches her nose up at the ticklish sensation that follows. "just beautiful."
and then you kiss each of her cheeks, pulling back dramatically after every one as if reloading another attack. and then it's her chin. and then across her hairline.
daniela is reduced into a giggling pile as you pepper her entire face with kisses, on every single freckle and beauty mark and mole. it's like having the constellations in your hands, so you take advantage of it, with all her laughs and snorts translating into otherworldly music in your ears.
it becomes a dance, all the squirming and kissing and squeezing. it becomes a dance of you trying to land your shot and daniela trying to avoid it while simultaneously chasing your lips with her own because you just wouldn't relent.
but the blonde whines suddenly, the smile gone. "you're just tickling me!" she complains.
you stop what you're doing, of course, only wanting to please her rather than the opposite. "i'm not tickling you, i'm showing my love and affection," you return. she only shakes her head and yanks her arms out of your grip, wrapping it around your neck instead.
"'showing love and affection' my ass. you won't even kiss me!"
"that's actually what i was doing, yes."
"you know what i mean! you're so annoying, and irritable, and despicable and preposterous and distasteful and- mmph!"
you don't allow her to list down a whole thesaurus anymore, finally giving in to her implicit request. she freezes for a little before she's smiling into the (proper) kiss, unintentionally interrupting it because it's too wide to bite back.
the warmth of you lingers on her face even as you pull away. "happy now?"
"i don't like you, you interrupted me."
your eyebrows crease. "i'm only doing what you want! god, it's so hard to please a princess."
she pinches the skin of your bicep. hard.
"ouch!" you yelp, palms flying away from her hips to rub circles over the offended spot. "geez, sorry! that wasn't even an insult!"
daniela narrows her eyes at you. "not an insult but a backhanded compliment."
"i would never hand out such derogatory statements," you gasp, still a little recoiled from the girl.
"liar."
"not."
"absolutely."
"not."
"still a liar," she decides. you disagree, it's clear from the shadow in your eyes, so she tweaks the statement a little. "a pretty liar, then."
"can't you just admit that you really like me and my presence?" you groan, leaning back in your swivel chair (which she occupies as well). the blonde latina looks smug, arms crossed, refusing.
she's stubborn, that daniela. "i would never show such weakness."
"and yet you're the one who's still on my lap, of all places. it's getting numb and you're still here."
that doesn't work. you always lose, in little banters like this. it's impossible to win against her. but then again it could also be because you're so vulnerable to her power. "alright then, i'll leave."
she slides off of your lap smoothly, and in three long strides plops down on the couch just beside. suddenly you're aware of how much of a comfort she'd been on top of you, and now you're missing everything about her — her weight, her warmth, her eyes and face — even though she sat a mere few feet away.
"wait, no, come back."
"nah, i think i like it here."
"why do you love to torture me so much?" defeated, you fall back into your chair once again, reclining and feigning death. your eyes close, only reminding you how tired you actually are, the feeling that had disappeared the moment your girlfriend had walked into the room to see you. but it was back.
a shadow casts over your face, shielding the yellowish glow of the lightbulb from you. a pair of hands start massaging your shoulders, pressing into just the right points that ache a little, but relief comes instantly after. "you're so dramatic."
daniela continues her gentle assault on your neck and shoulders, humming a soft tune under her breath. it's perfect, this, and you don't know whether you could appreciate her better through sight or sound or touch or scent.
"you're such an angel." your words come out slurred, sleepy. you don't get to see her roll her eyes in amusement at your state.
"and you sound drunk," she teases back, but she presses one last kiss on the crown of your head, anyway. "it's getting late, we should sleep."
"but... mrrrghh ngh..."
"what?"
"i want to look at you... a little more..."
"weirdo." she shakes her head fondly, shaking you out of the chair. "i bet you watch me sleep."
but she's the one who does, this time, watching your chest heave up and down in a steady rhythm, face devoid of emotion or worry lines or anything, really. daniela brushes a stray hair out of your face, hoping that you wake up earlier than her tomorrow so that she can be woken by kisses, everywhere. but hoping is useless because it happens every day anyway.
Disclaimer: All my works are FICTION. Nothing pertaining to the characters and/or actors are to be taken as fact. I do not own characters (unless I create an OC, in which I will be sure to mention), actors, tropes, or titles. This is a hobby of mine to relax and take a step back from the real world. If you ever have an issue with something I write, please feel free to send in an ask or comment on my post. I am human and will continue to learn from my experiences and research. I do not agree to my works being reposted or published on any sites. Enjoy!
A/N: Requests are open! Choose from the prompt list if you want!
Please read these guidelines before requesting anything!
Feud For Two - Abandoned
Chris Evans
Steve Rogers
Tom Holland
Peter Parker
Tony Stark
Azriel
Eris
Extras
Summer Nights | Tarquin x Reader
Biscuits & Jam | Cassian x Reader
Cassian Appreciation Week - Day 7 Submissions
Mating Bond | Cassian x Reader
Most Idiotic Mate | Cassian x Reader
"Come on, focus!" Hermione barks. "Sorry, sorry, I'm focusing," you say, fighting a grin. There's a brief silence as Hermione surveys you suspiciously from underneath her golden cloud of hair. You open and close your mouth twice, and then you say, "It's just, your accent is atrocious. You somehow sound like an unintelligible combination of a black mamba and an American Diamondback."
She glares at you, tossing her head. "It's not my fault this language is so bloody hard! I mean, how many different ways can you pronounce sss?" "About five-hundred and fifty-seven," you deadpan. Hermione flops into the couch with a groan. Laying on her back, with an arm tossed over her face, sharp eyes dormant and relaxed, she looks like a predator at rest.
You can't take your eyes off her. She's pretty in the way a snake is, shrewd and clever and deadly and bright. Her hair is like a living thing.
"Wanna take a break?" you ask gently, caressing her cheek. "No," she wails. "I hate to stop in the middle of studying." "We're not stopping," you assure her. "Just taking a small rest. That's legal, you realize." "That will be the first thing I change when I'm Minister, then," Hermione retorts smartly. She stands, a cobra on its coil.
"Come on then. If we aren't going to study we may as well head down to Florian's."
Summary: You found another show to watch with Dean. He wants to nail it too...
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Genderneutral!Reader
Warnings: fluff, fun, implied smut
Divider by @firefly-graphics
<< Part 1
“Nope. No horror. No romance. Not another series,” you sigh deeply while switching through the channels. “Alright, let’s have a look at Netflix then.”
You log into your account, searching for something to watch to take off your mind of the last hunt. “Uh-what’s that? Nailed it. Looks chaotic and crazy. Just my kind of entertainment.”
While you decide on the next baking show you want to watch, someone opens your door to disturb your fun.
“Whatcha doing?” Dean strolls into your room, searching for a distraction himself. “Do you got anything to watch? I’m bored.”
“No porn tonight, Mr. Winchester,” smirking you watch Dean walk into your room, already eying the snacks on your bed. “Those are my snacks, Dean. No stealing my food again!”
“I got some pie, Y/N,” he sits on your bed to steal a bag of chips. “Do you want some? I’ll share with you.” The hunter gets comfortable on your bed once again. He places the bag of chips onto his tummy as you start the first episode.
“I don’t want crumbles in my bed. Eat like a human,” you point a finger at him. “Last time I had to change sheets and all.”
“I promise to behave,” he longingly looks at all the snacks on your bed, ready to steal a chocolate bar. “So, what are we watching tonight?”
“Nailed it,” Dean chuckles at the title of the next baking show you want to watch. “What’s so funny? It’s another baking show. So, stay or leave. I’m going to watch it.”
“Nailed it,” he stuffs chips into his mouth to keep himself from laughing. “Interesting title.” Dean chews audibly while thinking about the title again. “You could easily confuse it with something else…I mean…nail…”
“Dean, you are confusing porn with a baking show again,” you start the first episode, and relax on your bed. “Now, shush. I wanna watch the show.”
“Wait. What is the show about? Food looking like handbags again?” he asks, making you groan as he won’t stop talking. “Don’t make that face. I only want to know what we are watching tonight.”
“A baking show, Dean. I think they cannot bake or something,” you snatch a few chips out of Dean’s hand. “Now let’s watch it, shall we.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart…”
Four episodes in, and you are laughing so hard your belly hurts. You giggle, because the cake the candidates baked doesn’t even look like cake. “Damn, they really can’t bake. Why do they even try at this point?”
“Dean they are amateurs and not professional bakers like in the other show we watched. I like that they are normal people,” you try to defend your latest guilty pleasure. “Let’s see if they can make that rocket cake thing.”
“I bet they will mess it up,” Dean smirks and you throw chips at him. “What? Do you want to make a bet?”
“I won’t bet on shit against you ever again. You cheat Winchester,” your grumble. “Last time you got my last chocolate bar, twenty bucks and I had to wash your clothes for a week.”
“Why don’t you go to that show too?” he smirks as you turn your head to face him. “Imagine, you win that show easily and tell everyone you nailed it.”
“I would rock that show, Winchester. I’d bake the hell out of any cake,” you insist on winning the show. “You know my pie!”
“I bet, you could not only tell everyone you nailed it but,” he moves his hand to your thigh. He squeezes your flesh lightly, testing the waters, “also tell them you got nailed by the hottest guy you ever met after you won the show.”
“You only want the ten-thousand dollars!” you find yourself pinned to the mattress seconds later as he cages you on the bed with his body. “DEAN!”
He kisses you softly, smirking against your lips like the cocky guy he is. “Or you could tell Sammy in the morning that we nailed it together…”
REQUEST ››››› ya know the soulmate au alphabet? Could i request Torres + b and w from the alphabet?
b...ody art (doodles that a person draws on themselves appear on their soulmate’s skin).
g...uardian (it is said that the person who saves you from a near-death experience is your soulmate—drowning, car crash, etc.)
WORD COUNT ››››› 1,255
WARNINGS ››››› none
A/N ››››› Sooo I kind of cheated by combining the two letters. Also the writing style is kinda different from my usual story work, but hopefully both risks pan out.
The first picture to ever blossom on his skin is a bird.
The other boys in class have flowers and suns and clouds and little stick figure girls and boys, but he has a bird. And while theirs are sketchy and smudged and disproportionate, his looks as if it's been plucked from a picture book with its steady lines and cartoonish detail.
He'd been surprised to find it, nestled into the crook of his elbow, only appearing when he raised his hand to answer a question. He's so used to seeing his friends with images that littered the backs of their hands and wrists and thighs, he’d never thought to check anywhere else.
A thought crosses his mind.
More than crosses.
It takes over.
He knows he isn't supposed to.
If his teacher catches him, he'll get into trouble. He's not even supposed to have a pen in class. The rule's supposed to help kids avoid the temptation of sending off doodles to their soulmates. Of course, like all school rules, kids find a way around it, keeping pens tucked away in pockets and backpacks and lunch bags.
He's never been one to break the rules, but this feels like he has to. His soulmate's out there somewhere, waiting for him. It only feels right to assure them that he's waiting for them too.
Joaquin pulls the pen he keeps tucked in his desk in hopes of just such an occasion and quietly uncaps it. Carefully and stealthily, he drags the pen tip across his skin, eyes darting up to track the teacher’s movements and make sure he doesn't get caught. As a result, the drawing isn't very good. The head's too big for the body and the feet too long. He’d attempted to draw the wing twice, leaving the lines thicker than the rest of the bird. But it's there, facing the first and chirping out a note, so they know he's alive and thinking of them in this moment. And that had to feel nice.
He sticks the pen back in his desk, looking up at the board and quickly copying down the problems he’s almost missed. It's not until he reaches forward to pass in his paper that he notices the addition to the doodle. Two eighth notes tweet out from the first bird.
He smiles.
It becomes increasingly clear that his soulmate’s an artist.
Most people don’t have doodles on their arms and palms anymore. Instead they have drawings sketched into places only they can see--secret notes passed between soulmates. But his body is littered with art.
Intricate patterns bloom across the back of his hand, and twist and twirl up his arm. His forearm becomes a comic strip. Constant commentary on their day or whatever social issues are on their mind. Sometimes they leave a panel open for him to finish. His drawing hasn’t improved much from the first bird.
He wishes he could send along words of praise or encouragement even though he knows words won’t go through.
He wishes that they would use this gift to pass along messages like just about everyone else his age does. But all attempts at starting a conversation like that have gone unanswered. Instead, he simply gets to witness their art and their life play out across his skin. And Joaquin has learned to be content with that.
Because while other kids are coordinating their futures around their soulmates and tailoring all plans to match the other’s, he gets to make his decisions free. He gets to sign up for the Air Force ROTC without a shred of guilt or pushback like some of the other cadets have to deal with.
Their doodles are what keeps him grounded. Throughout basic and his first deployment, their delicate designs and drawings keep him company in those moments when he feels absolutely alone. They make him feel human in moments where he’s asked to be inhuman.
Their art has saved his life more than once too. The obvious doodles keeping him from doomed missions and distracting him for just long enough to avoid disaster. But more than those obvious, blood running cold, vomiting from how close it was moments, the doodles save his life because they are a constant.
He’s not the only one who appreciates the art either. The others in his unit laugh at the comics his soulmate still draws on his arms. They marvel of the intricacy of his soulmate’s work. On how they’re able to create such a detailed band of wild flowers around their own tricep. They laugh as he attempts to draw a bird amongst the flowers. He wonders if his soulmate knows they’re a bit of a celebrity amongst the 547th.
He wonders if he’ll ever get to tell them.
That’s the thought that weighs heavily on him as he watches his friends on base turn to dust around him. As he watches planes fall from the sky and plummet to the ground. As he watches the gentle waves and roles of the ocean that cascade across his forearm disappear.
It's five years before another doodle appears on his skin. He almost cries when he sees it. A small cartoon bird wipes sweat off of its forehead as if relieved.
He lacks all creativity in terms of response and just surrounds the bird in a cloud of hearts.
And that's their reunion. After this, life continues on, and their established routine continues. While the rest of the world still feels like a mess, the familiar rhythm of waking up to a new comic, of finding a new illustration branded on his shoulder makes him feel whole again.
The art maintains its affects on others as well. Both Sam and Bucky like to tease him for the "garden on his arm" or tell him he's a "human gallery." But he notices the way they practice drawing on their arms, watches as the other eyes the spot it appears on their own skin and mercilessly roasts it. Bucky has asked Joaquin if he's willing to trade soulmates more than once.
Joaquin's not.
Ideally, Joaquin would have met his soulmate under calmer circumstances.
Maybe they could have met at a Starbucks when they accidentally reached for the same drink and noticed the matching patterns on each other's arms.
Maybe they could have met while his soulmate was taking a tour of the base, and he just so happened to stop and say hello to the guide and realized that he had the same three birds on his shoulder.
Maybe they could have just finally coordinated a time to see each other face to face.
Instead, he catches them as they're pushed from a stolen helicopter.
Later, they tell him that they wish he'd just walked into their tattoo shop. That his first impression of them wasn't screaming and crying and just about ready to vomit all over him. That they wouldn't have blamed him for keeping the connection a secret when the first thing they said to him after saving their life was "Ow! I think you broke my back." (Which, for the record, he didn't. It was just bruised.)
But when he sees the band of flowers encircling their tricep, he can't keep it in. He can't believe he's holding his soulmate in his arms. The person who's kept him company for almost two decades.
So he says something almost as idiotic as they do: "You're the bird."
And that pretty much solidifies the fact that they're meant to be.
sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: The forbidden romance that (Y/N) and Ethan had chosen to embark upon was perfect before dear sister Kat found out.
ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: None! Just fluff!
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Ethan Karamakov X GenderNeutral!Reader
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.1k
(Y/N) was never one to let someone like Ethan cloud their mind of any thought that wasn’t him. They had been focused on ballet, nothing else mattered before they came to the Australian National Academy of Dance. But, after a few short weeks, the Karamakovs came into their life. The half-sibling dynamic duo swept (Y/N) up and into their wonderful cocoon of privileged ballet life. As the stepson and daughter of the Natasha Willis, Kat and Ethan were living in the height of luxury when it came to ballet. Exclusive backstage passes to every show Natasha was guest-starring in, a natural leg up in any field of the dance world they wanted to go into, whatever they wanted was at their fingertips.
(Y/N) could have ignored it all, letting their friendship with Kat be more than just a surface attraction to the splendor that came with even knowing the Karamakov siblings, but then Ethan stepped in. He wanted to use (Y/N) in his original choreography, a new piece each week, creating excuses to be with them. Just as (Y/N) was entranced with the Karamakov’s lifestyle, Ethan was entranced by (Y/N)’s existence.
(Y/N) didn’t mean for it to happen, they really didn’t. It started off as innocent lingering touches in the studio during an after-dark rehearsal, stolen glances across the common room in the dorms, sharing a muffin at the cafe before Kat could arrive. Then came the rehearsals of intense duets, ending chest to chest with one another, lips centimeters apart as their chests heaved with heavy breaths. For a while, (Y/N) could always push themselves away, turning their head and stepping away before they couldn’t resist any longer. Those few weeks between the innocent beginning and the insatiable prohibited romance that had grown to consume (Y/N) were pure hell.
Kat had one rule when it came to being her friend: Ethan was strictly off-limits.
Kat didn’t want to deal with the emotional turmoil that came with her friends’ inevitable attraction to her brother, she’d had to face it too many times. (Y/N) understood this, they did, but Ethan was intoxicating. So, because of Kat’s rule, (Y/N) and Ethan decided to keep their relationship a secret until they could find the right time to tell Kat.
The sneaking around was exhilarating at first. Hiding in the shadows under the stairwells after class to steal a kiss as Kat clomped down the stairs above their heads, the adrenaline of getting caught while they pushed their luck as they giggled and continued to kiss kept things interesting. It became a game. A game to see how long they could go, how close they could get, to Kat finding out about them. It had even gone as far as stopping outside Kat’s dorm room one late night, the couple perched against the wall beside her door with their lips locked.
Like most personal rehearsal nights, (Y/N) and Ethan couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. The music had faded into the background as they lost themselves in one another, standing near the frontmost corner of the small studio. Ethan’s strong hands circled (Y/N)’s hips, pulling them in close as (Y/N) wove their fingers into Ethan’s soft golden locks. Their eyes were stuck on his crystalline blue ones, unable to leave his gaze even if they wanted to. They could never get over how clear his eyes were, almost transparent rather than blue in the dim lighting of the studio.
Ethan’s hands started to roam from (Y/N)’s hips to their waist, gently squeezing their skin and pulling at the t-shirt covering their body as he pushed their back against the mirror. Their noses bumped into each other as he did, earning breathless chuckles from the couple as they started to block out anything that wasn’t the other.
“We really shouldn’t do this here, Ethan,” (Y/N) sighed, licking their lips as they continued to run the tip of their nose along the length of Ethan’s. They knew that Ethan loved that, and the way his breath hitched when (Y/N) ghosted their lips over his only further proved their point.
“Why not?” Ethan’s thick Australian accent was (Y/N)’s weakness, the huskiness of his voice at that moment driving them wild. “Isn’t it more fun when anyone can walk in, exposing our little secret in a single moment?”
(Y/N) hummed, their fingers tightened in Ethan’s hair as his hands continued to rub up and down their waist, slowly sliding under their shirt. They had to agree, the thrill of being found out was something they couldn’t pass up. “You’re going to get us in so much trouble.”
“I can’t get us in trouble without you, sweets.” Ethan softly said, finally closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to (Y/N)’s in a heated kiss. (Y/N) made a surprised noise and tugged on his hair, pulling him closer to them. Ethan grinned into the kiss, earning the confidence to deepen it by nipping at their bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before letting it go. “How about we take this back to mine?”
(Y/N) paused, their fingertips lightly scratching Ethan’s scalp. It had been a couple of months since (Y/N) and Ethan started dating, and things were moving fast, but not that fast. Did they want to? Were they even ready?
Ethan leaned in and placed another gentle kiss on their lips, his thumbs rubbing small circles on their waist. Every thought in (Y/N)’s mind ceased and they were suddenly nodding, eager to continue what they were doing in the privacy of Ethan’s single room. Another perk of being Natasha Willis’ stepson -- if he wanted a single dorm room, he got one.
That was how (Y/N) and Ethan wound up in the common room of the dorms, stopping every few feet as they moved through the room to lose themselves in one another. A kiss in the doorway of the common room, then another against the pool table, another against the railing of the stairs, across the door of a first year’s dorm room. It wasn’t until they neared the third year hallway that they realized where they were. Kat’s door was right beside them, cracked open with a Myles Kelly song floating through.
(Y/N) breathily chuckled as Ethan left a trail of light kisses from their lips to their neck, their head falling to the side and their eyes starting to close blissfully, but they instead met the angry eyes of Kat Karamakov. (Y/N) gasped and shoved Ethan away from them, standing up straight as they blushed under Kat’s glare. How were they going to get out of this one?
✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *.✧ .* :✧. ───✧
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: This was such a cute request, once I started writing it I literally couldn't stop haha. Thank you so much for sending in this request! I'm thinking of maybe making this a two-parter? Like part two would be the fallout of Kat finding out about (Y/N) & Ethan? Let me know!
