#‘feelings are for girls’ -> they are so messed up you don’t even know

[kiszjuli]

MY GIRL .ᐟ

✸ shy!mark x fem!reader | genre. fluff. | w.c 2.2k | ♡

↳ synopsis. in which mark has apparently claimed you in his heart, and to no one other than his friends. hiding his feelings thinking that he didn’t have a chance, he gets extremely jealous when someone tries to ask you out for valentine’s day. you’re his girl.

↳playlist. designer - nct 127, just the way you are - bruno mars, can’t take my eyes off of you - frankie valli, when im with you - nct dream, night poem - nct dream, can’t help falling in love - elvis presley.

the student lounge was buzzing with laughter and chatter, the sounds of friends catching up and making plans for the upcoming 3-day weekend. mark sat at a corner table with his group of friends, jeno, donghyuck, and jisung. but his gaze and attention kept drifting to you. you were seated at a nearby table with your own group of friends. you were always effortlessly surrounded by people, your laugh ringing in his ears like his favorite song. mark had always admired how easily you lit up every room you entered, how everyone seemed drawn to your warmth and energy. and how-

“earth to mark,” jeno’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and Mark blinked, seeing his friends hand waving in front of his face. he looked up at his friend with a forced smile.

“huh? oh, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, fixing the hat on his head, trying to look more engaged but failing.

jisung raised an eyebrow, noticing the direction mark was looking. “you good, man?” he asked, his voice casual but with an underlying hint of curiosity.

nodding quickly, mark then shifted in his seat. “yeah, i’m fine. just… trying to focus, you know?” He waved his hand brushing them off, though his eyes couldn’t help but flick back to you for a moment.

donghyuck catches where his eyes dart, and a knowing look forms on his face. “you sure? you’ve been staring at her all afternoon,” donghyuck added with a grin.

mark immediately blushed, feeling heat rush to his face. “what? no! i wasn’t staring,” he protested a little too quickly, tugging his hat lower to hide his face. “i just—uh, i’m just lost in thought.” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

jeno smirked. “uh-huh, sure. if you say so. but you’ve been acting kinda weird lately. you sure there’s nothing going on?”

mark swallowed hard, his heart racing at the thought of you. He had always admired you from a distance, but you were popular, way out of his league. his friends knew about his little crush on you, but he didn’t think they understood the full extent of it. he wasn’t even sure you saw him as more than a mere friend.

“i-idon’t know,” mark muttered, his voice quieter than usual. “it’s just… she’s always so surrounded by people, you know? she’s pretty much got everyone’s attention all the time.”

jeno leaned back, a teasing glint in his eyes. “she’s definitely got yours” his comment earning a laugh from the other two.

mark’s face flushed deeper, and he slumped in his seat. “no guys, seriously,” he mumbled, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “she’s just… i don’t know. she’s popular, and i’m just… me.”

“yeah, well, ‘just you’ is exactly why you’ve got a shot,” donghyuck said, his voice light but encouraging. “you think she doesn’t notice? she does. she’s not blind, mark.”

“exactly,” jisung added, leaning back in his chair. “you’ve been acting like a nervous mess every time she’s around. maybe it’s time you do something about it, yeah?”

mark shot a small glance toward your table, his heart skipping a beat as you caught his eye for a second. he quickly adverted his gaze, pretending to be interested in something in front of him.

jeno chuckled and patted him on the back. “mark, you’ve got this. you just have to take a chance. she’s not some unreachable goddess. if you really like her, go for it. stop hiding behind your ‘I’m fine’ act.”

mark gave him a small, unsure smile. “maybe. i’ll think about it,”

but deep down, mark was terrified. he could never imagine you looking at him the way he looked at you. you were popular, funny, and effortlessly charming. he was… well, just mark.

as you laughed from across the room, mark’s heart gave an involuntary flutter. maybe his friends were right—maybe it was time to stand up and stop pretending he didn’t want more. more than to just watch you from afar. but for now, he stayed where he was, silently watching, unsure if he’d ever have the courage to tell you how he truly felt.

—

classes were now over, and small groups of people were in the large theater, helping set up for valentine's day. your school was hosting a valentine's day fundraiser, where the campus would raise money for local charities. this year's theme 'music for the heart'- likewise, the main attraction was the music appreciation raffle.

you were there of course, running the “song dedication booth” where students could pay a small fee to have a song dedicated to someone during the open mic. you decorated the booth yourself: choosing some white fairy lights to outline the sign, with red heart balloons all around, and of course some cut out music notes that you had done earlier.

“okay, so you want ‘can’t take my eyes off you’ for your girlfriend? great choice,” you said with a smile, writing the request onto the list. “she’ll love it.”

mark watched you from the edge of the stage, where he was tuning his guitar for his performance later. he could hear your cheerful voice as you talked with students, helping them pick the perfect songs. the way you talked about music, your passion shining through every suggestion and question, made his chest tighten.

“she’s really into this,” jisung remarked from behind the drum kit, glancing between mark and you. “you’re playing tonight, right? finally gonna make your move?”

mark glanced over at his friends—jeno adjusting his bass strap and dongkyuck pretending to help. he quickly averted his gaze, nervously strumming his guitar. “i don’t know,” he muttered. “she’s got so much going on. she’s busy.” he made excuses.

donghyuck rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “she’s running a music related booth, mark. if there’s ever a chance to make conversation, it’s right now.”

hesitant, he glanced back at you as you laughed with another student. “but what if she doesn’t feel the same way?” he said quietly.

“dude, she smiles at you differently than anyone else,” jeno chimed in. “i don’t think you realize how obvious you are. she’s into you too, but you can’t wait forever.”

the idea of putting himself out there, of confessing how he felt in front of everyone, made his palms sweat. he just couldn’t.

“why not dedicate your song to her?” jisung spoke up, his voice softer

mark’s heart pounded knowing that his song was already dedicated to you, having thought about it for weeks beforehand. he was going to perform ‘just the way you are’ by bruno mars.

mark glanced up, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw you looking his way, the fairy lights illuminated your features in the best way as you gave him a small, bright smile. he awkwardly waved back, his stomach flipping as you returned your attention to the students walking your way.

“smooth,” donghyuck muttered, biting back a laugh.

“shut up,” mark mumbled, his face heating up.

—

the lights in the theater dimmed, and the crowd hushed as mark stepped onto the stage, his guitar slung over his shoulder. you stood near the back of the room, watching as he adjusted the mic, his hands trembling slightly. you felt a smile creeping to your face.

“this one’s for someone special,” he said, his voice quiet but steady.

your best friend, winter nudged your shoulder and you glared at her with a laugh. she always teased you about your slight crush on the boy.

as the familiar chords of “just the way you are” filled the room, your heart skipped a beat. mark’s voice was soft yet filled with emotion, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

when he sang, “her eyes, her eyes make the stars look like they’re not shining,” you felt your cheeks flush. feeling like you were looking too much into it, you shook your head slightly and glanced down at your shoes.

by the final verse, everyone was entranced by his voice. when the song ended, the applause broke the spell, but mark’s gaze lingered on yours, his lips curving into a shy smile.

—

the rest of the fundraiser went extremely well. the crowd winding down and now you found yourself starting to pack up your things at you booth.

“hey,” a voice interrupted, making you glance up.

It was a guy from one of your classes, holding a small bouquet of roses in his hands. he looked nervous but determined as he stepped closer to your booth.

“oh, hi!” you greeted warmly, taking a pause from packing up.

mark saw it from across the student center—the way the guy nervously walked up to you, clutching a small bouquet of flowers, his face tinged pink, your kind but still friendly smile. frozen in place, his chest tightened. he couldn’t hear the conversation, but he didn’t need to. the way the guy was smiling at you and the way you politely smiled back made it clear what was happening. but you were his girl. even if that guy didn’t know it yet.

of course someone else would ask you out. he knew it was going to happen at some point, always surrounded by people who admired you. and mark? he’d spent months hiding his feelings, thinking you’d never look at him that way.

but now as he sees the guy walk away from you-missing the slight frown on his face-he can’t stop his own two feet from moving towards you. his mind was racing. did you say yes? were you off limits now? labeled as someone else’s girl?

as he approached, you were gathering the last few things from your booth. you noticed him and looked up.

“oh, mark?” you asked tilting your head, still with bright eyes.

“hey,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing as his voice cracked slightly. “i, uh… i saw you talking to that guy just now.”

you raised an eyebrow, catching the uncertainty in his tone. “huh? oh yeah, he was just—”

“did you—did you say yes?” the words spilling out before he could stop them, and he winced as soon as he realized how frantic his voice sounded.

you blinked in surprise. “what?”

“to, uh… whatever he asked you…” mark said, rubbing the back of his neck, his face flushing. he was getting more and more choked up by the second. “i mean, obviously it’s fine if you did..it’s probably none of my business and- he seemed nice. i just…” he trailed off, his words stringing along as he avoided your gaze.

you stared at him for a moment before realizing what he was getting at. a soft laugh escaped your lips, and mark’s eyes darted to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “what’s funny?”

“no, i didn’t say yes,” you said simply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “i told him i wasn’t interested.” you said looking up, your grin still lingering on your face.

mark felt relief wash over him as a small smile tugged at his lips. however, disbelief still clouded his mind. “you..didn't?”

shaking your head you spoke. “nope,” your smile was warm yet teasing as you say his rosy cheeks darken a little. “i think i’d rather wait for someone i actually want to say yes to,”

mark just blinked, not knowing how to react. what did that mean? could you be talking about him? or was it someone else? why would you-

“mark,” you called out, breaking him from his thoughts. “if..you have something to say, now would be the time,” you said softly, stepping a little closer.

“well, i-i have been wanting to say something for a while now,” he started, taking a breath. “i like you a lot, like- a lot..but i just didn’t think i had a chance..”

your smile widened feeling a small heat rise to your cheeks too. “you always had a chance mark,”

relief mixed with disbelief washed over him. you felt the same way the whole time? he let out a nervous laugh, his shoulders finally relaxing. “so, does this mean i can ask you out now?”

“i think you just did,” you teased, your fingers fiddling together, as your heart beat a little faster.

mark grinned, his confidence growing. he reached out for your hand, still shaking but sure. “well, then… will you be my valentine?” he wanted to ask ‘will you be my girl?’ but this would do for now-slow steps, he told himself.

“i’d love to,” you replied, your eyes sparkling as you smiled at him.

“y/n! can you come here for a sec?” winter called for you from the studio room. she apologized later once she found out was was happening, but you brushed it off saying it was okay.

you looked to mark and stepped closer. you softly pressed your lips to his cheekbone and pulled away slowly. “come find me later?”

he nods with a hum, too star struck by you to form a sentence, or even a word. you smiled and walked off, now knowing that you finally had the guy you wanted. and mark walked back to his guitar to his teasing friends with a dopey, cheesy smile knowing that you were his girl.

and in that moment, mark felt that every doubt, every little hesitation, had been worth it.

—

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~ THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpufffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yowmaman @yukisroom97

[hwallazia]

WARDROBE MALFUNCTIONS – 최산

⋆ synopsis. you help san in a very special way with his outfit before he gets on stage.

pairing. idol bf! san & hairstylist fem! reader.

wc. 3,1k

warnings. soft dom! san & sub! reader, cussing, semi-public sex (they fuck in a men’s restroom tehee), unprotected sex (boo 👎), creampie, cowgirl position, implied handjob & blowjob (didn’t write that part explicitly), quickie?, begging, male masturbation, accidental erection, sannie is unable to cum with just his fist so he asks reader for help <3, dirty talk, praise, pet names (sannie, princess, jagi & more), in conclusion they’re DESPERATE.

nic’s notes ⋆ the wip has been posted 🙇‍♀️ four san fics in a row tho... YES SIR !! 🗣️ dw i’ll post a hongjoong one shot soon <3

the ambience was calm, the ac provided the room with cool air, the murmurs were a bit lower than usual so it was at the ideal volume and the members were naturally getting ready to go on stage, the screams of the excited and frenetic fans that non patiently waited in the stadium bleachers belied the calm atmosphere in the room.

as you were taking care of mingi’s hair and making it your job to make it look spectacular, you saw your boyfriend’s figure on the mirror. his reflection showed a bothered san, struggling with the zip of his shiny white pants. you redirected your eyes to mingi’s scalp, spraying small bits of glitter onto it.

“all done, princess” you chanted, meeting the man’s satisfied grin in the mirror; a smile unconsciously taking place on your face.

“it’s princess indeed.” he double checked his just-styled hair before rising from the chair, rotating his body towards you; back facing the mirror. “you seriously are an artist”

“wouldn’t be working in here if i didn’t have that title” you teased a little bit, stealing a charming laugh. you continued chatting with him for a couple more minutes, looking over his shoulder from time to time to see the cute pout formed on san’s pink lips. he let out a soft huff and made his way out of the room, your iris following his every movement.

“excuse me, mingi-ah. gotta finish up the work.” you explained before hearing an overshadowed humming of their song called “work”. chuckling, you tracked your boyfriend’s course.

you walked past a closed door, but you stepped backward when you noticed its threshold beaming a clear light. you hit your knuckles against the wooden door in a funny musical rhythm before hearing and seeing the handle of it twist open, revealing san’s figure; his makeup half messed up.

his annoyed features beamed up when he saw you, a hint of relief in his orbs. ”baby! so glad you’re here. come on.” he grabbed your hand not too gently but still without hurting you and pulled you to him, closing the door behind you quickly without giving it much of a thought that you were a woman inside a men’s restroom.

“s-sannie! what happened?” you analyzed his face for a moment, noticing smuddered powder of eyeshadow along the sides of his eyelids and his foundation slightly botched.

“uhm. kinda feels like this outfit doesn’t fit in the right places, if you know what i mean.” he spoke sheepishly, his muscly thighs uncomfortably restrained against the tight fabric of the pearly white pants.

your hands reached the sides of his pants. you tugged the piece of clothing twice with enough force to feel how snug it was.

you gasped lowly. “how did this happen?”

he sighed, rising and lowering his shoulders in surrender. “i don’t know how they keep messing up my measurements.”

you couldn’t help but ask the stupid question that had struck your thoughts the moment you saw him. “how did you even manage to get yourself inside those pants?”

he whined, sulking. “i don’t knowww, just get these off me.”

a soft blush heated your cheeks. “love, you gotta be on stage in less than thirty minutes, we can’t do—”

“not what i meant, filthy girl.” he deadpanned, the red on your face deepening. “not a bad idea though.”

a rush of embarrassment made your skin hot. you landed a sharp, yet light smack on the side of his shoulders. the emitted sound exaggerated how harshly you had hit him. “choi san! focus!”

“you’re the one who gave the idea!” he defended himself, arms closing around his chest.

you sighed before humming lowly, submerged in thought, your brain already trying to scheme a solution as san dedicated himself to pout cutely, huffing softly, clearly annoyed at the uncomfortable, leg-numbing fabric.

a click sounded inside your head. “i’ll go find and see if there’s another pair of those. if not, then i’ll get you something similar. just wait here.” you uttered as you stretched your opened palm in front of you.

he nodded. “okay, go,”

you gave him a little smile before vanishing from the tiny restroom. after hearing the door clicking shut, you sprung towards the dressing room, where wooyoung and seonghwa were conversing trivialities. yunho noticed you and your fast heartbeat the moment you spawned at the door.

his eyebrow quirked up for a bit. “what’s up? why were you running just now?”

you exhaled in an exasperated sigh. “i need to find inseol”

inseol was your friend and also the head of the dressing department, she designed and planned every single one of ateez’s stunning and mind-blowing outfits. “haven’t seen her.” yunho simply responded.

“me neither.” the two other men replied in unison, the low curse you huffed going unheard by them.

“why though? we’re all dressed up already.” wooyoung questioned.

“sannie’s having a problem with his pants. they’re way too tiny and therefore, tight.”

the thought alone of san dancing his soul out on that stage with senseless, numb feet makes your head spin in the worst way. you had to help your boyfriend somehow, and inseol not being in sight was complicating things.

“are you serious?” hongjoong stepped into the room, and you felt your blood run cold.

if there was something kim hongjoong hated, it was unforeseen events.

you managed to compose yourself the best you could. “yes but i’m already taking care of it!”

your words did almost nothing to calm hongjoong’s growing boiling stress. you closed your eyes for a tiny second, already accepting your fate and mentally preparing for hongjoong’s temper tantrum, but seonghwa’s wise and soothing voice intervened. “hongjoong, she said she’s already taking care of it. so let her do what she gotta do, we’re all under the same circumstances and pressure.”

hongjoong heaved a sharp sigh, frown relaxing, limbs letting go of the way-too-quickly accumulated tension. “you’re right. sorry, go ahead.”

you smiled sweetly in an attempt to reassure hongjoong. “it’s okay. i’ll figure this out — no need to worry.” you said as you eased your way out the door, but not before mouthing a genuine ‘thank you’ to seonghwa, who only nodded politely as he gave you a tiny grin.

as you walked towards the room where your sannie was, your mind anxiously scrambled for a quick solution, but with so many limited options, your stress only grew bigger. you mumbled under your breath some possible resolutions, yet nothing ingenious came to mind.

it wasn’t until you passed by this chair, overloaded with a black and seemingly heavy and full backpack with pieces of clothing on top. your eyes flickered toward the overused chair and you instantly started roaming through the mountain of fabric, wishing for a similar pair of white pants to come into sight.

in the distance, you could hear the voices of your coworkers murmuring about how much time was left until the concert started. 20 minutes was all you had.

then, a miracle happened. the low percentage of chances of you finding the exact cloth you needed elevated drastically to one hundred the moment the almost identical pearly white pants covered your opened palm.

you almost squealed when you found it, but you had to remain collected and professional. instead, you cleared your throat and headed towards the men’s restroom with hurried steps, where your poor sannie awaited for your savior-like presence.

you twisted the door handle once you were face to face with the men’s restroom symbol, opening and closing the door behind you quickly.

you expected him to be fighting against the tightness of his pants, huffing and groaning, full of stress.

“jagi,”

you definitely weren’t expecting him to be half naked on the floor, with a throbbing cock in hand as he panted breathlessly, the snug fabric of the pants still rubbing against his covered balls. his makeup was already fucked up because of the blanket of glistening sweat his face was covered in. his half-lidded eyes and shiny lips only invited you to sink into sin with him.

but you couldn’t. not when he had a stage to be on, a performance to give.

your eyes stayed widely open like plates as you blurted out. “sannie, what are you—”

“i tried getting out of these but it just kept rubbing against my dick every time i tried to move.” he blabbered, soft sobs hitching his breath. “i really didn’t mean it but ‘m so hard, jagi. i don’t know what to do and it just doesn’t go down.”

your mouth dried as you intently stared at his velvety tip, enveloped with his big hand, fully covered in precum, pulsating and aching under his fingers.

oh, your poor sannie.

so endlessly helpless and sensitive.

“help me, please.” he begged, his voice cracking, yet so fucking cute.

and of course you’d lend him a helping hand.

you cooed at him as you approached him, the slow steps of your low heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“oh, baby. so sensitive as always,” you caressed the side of his messed-up hair. you internally sighed since you had to redo your hard work.

but that thought faded in a blur, ’cause now you had more important things to do.

and that thing was sat obediently in front of you, waiting for your magical touch to send him into another dimension in less than ten minutes.

’cause that was all you had to get the deed done.

“‘m sorry, love, but—” he gulped before pleading. “can you suck it? please.”

naturally, your sweetheart of a boyfriend hardly ever lets you suck his cock, since he prefers pleasing you first, prioritizing your release before his.

desperate times call for desperate measures, though. so of course you knew he wouldn’t be asking you this if he had another alternative, another solution that didn’t mean resorting to such a filthy act, in such a short time, and in such a place.

“of course baby.”

five minutes.

only five minutes had passed until he was practically begging you to let him fuck you.

”please, jagi, it’s the only way it comes down” he used as an excuse. it was valid, though, the clenching walls of your pussy were the ultimate method to soften up san’s girthy length.

after a brief moment of considering it, your hand movement came to a stop, his reddened cockhead slapping against his uncovered abs, a sticky line of pre-cum dirtying his happy trail.

“we’re going that far, huh?” you teased, kissing his jaw as you positioned yourself on top of him. he tried to whine out an excuse, a reason why he wanted to fuck you with only a few minutes before his show, but you shushed him quickly, grabbing his girth by the base and aligning it towards your welcoming entrance. “we gotta be quick, though.”

he exhaled, taking in the view that unraveled in front of him. “i know.”

after giving him a warm smile, you sank down slowly, your body instinctively leaning slightly forward, your palms laying flat on his firm chest, using as the perfect support. you took him inch by inch, until your pussy lips grazed his balls. a satisfied sigh left your mouth, san’s head immediately rocking back as he grunted deeply, your warming insides always felt so heavenly divine.

the way you clamped down him forced him to lock gazes with you again, his low hiss cutting through the air. then, he realized that you weren’t actually moving, so he breathed in to ask, but you were faster, replying to his untold question. “fuck me, then.” you leaned closer, your faces just a few inches apart. “take what you need, sannie.”

san stared up at you with an intoxicated, loving gaze, a silent “thank you” dripping from his sparkling eyes. his hands landed on your hips, holding you steady before lifting them up, a few inches of him withdrawing from the cozy embrace of your cunt. whilst he held your body up, you purposely squeezed his cocktip and san cursed under his breath. he started with a slow pace, driving his hardness up against your pussy, filling you all the way up.

you arched your back when his tip stroked that divine spot in you, eyes almost rolling back to your skull. “s—sannie, oh my fuck!” you kept moaning and panting breathlessly on top of him, completely powerless.

he dove his head into your breasts, nuzzling his mouth in the middle of them. your bouncing tits rubbed against his cheeks with every jump, san’s blood rushing towards his face. his half-lidded eyes and curled-up feet were the only evidence needed to prove that he was actually enjoying this.

“oh princess.” he exhaled endearingly, utterly in love with your bouncing figure. “i love how you feel.” he uttered as he massaged your sides, ramming his cock to your convulsing pussy, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. “that’s the spot, isn’t it?”

his voice penetrated deeply inside your eardrums, your trembling core almost failing to keep its balance as you came closer and closer to the edge. “y-yeah, ‘m so close, so fucking close—ugh!”

your moans grew louder with each thrust, your hands holding onto his arms as they squeezed the heart muscle of his biceps. saying that you were a mess was an understatement, your white shirt had been discarded a while ago, a trail of sweat falling in between your breasts like rain; skirt hiked up to your marked hips. your mouth hung open in satisfaction, the sensation of being filled to the brim tipped you a bit.

“fuck— how much have we got left?” san groaned, hissing breathlessly.

“i—“ you stuttered as you raised your wrist up, staring at the clock that decorated it so elegantly.

5 minutes.

“we got five minutes, san. you gotta hurry.” you exhaled, looking desperate for your boyfriend’s release. he was the one who needed to be on that stage in less than ten minutes, after all. so you prioritized him thoughtfully.

”fuck, princess — you have to come.” his fingers reached down your sensitive clit and started rubbing circles on it. you squirmed on top of him as he kept thrusting his cock up your velvety walls.

you would’ve protested, claiming that it was actually him who had to come, if he hadn’t stimulated your bundle of nerves. your core twitched nonstop as your back arched beautifully. a string of incoherent pleas and san’s name spurted out of your mouth thoughtlessly.

in a warning manner, you clenched around him once or twice before coming undone all over his hardened dick, your body surrendered and crumbled down, your cheek colliding with his shoulder as you panted nonsense.

“that’s it, just like that, princess. you did so good.” he praised before grunting lowly. “so fucking good f’me.” he hammered your hips down his pelvic bone as he kept pistoning his hardness against your overstimulated, convulsing pussy. “gonna come inside you, fill you up reaaal good—yeah, y’ want it?” he growled, grasping your ass cheeks, definitely leaving his signature mark.

you blabbered a weak “yes”, too blissed out to even formulate coherent sentences. “‘course you want it, my dirty little princess.” san squeezed his eyes shut and moaned when he felt your walls clamp down on him for the nth time, this time bringing him closer to the abyss of pleasure though. “ugh— ‘m coming, ‘m coming, baby—“ he announced in a low, gravelly groan as he emptied his heavy load deep inside, filling you with his cum to the bone; eyes dilated.

he slowed his pace down before sitting completely still, your cunt still welcoming the white shoots of cum that his cock spurted out helplessly. you encircled his neck with your weakened arms for a moment, almost forgetting about the fact that your boyfriend had a concert to give. your body jolted as the reminder hit your head. “fuck, baby — you need to go now.”

and seemed like your boyfriend had forgotten about that little detail as well. “shit, you’re right.” he uttered before sliding his arms under your thighs and back, lifting you off him and placing you on the floor again as he rose up.

his head shook incessantly, searching for the whole reason why you were there. the word “pants” left his lips quietly, like a mantra. you stared up at him and helped him, pointing where the pair of pants was at. “behind that chair, sannie.”

he turned his head abruptly to where you had pointed at, the problematic pair of white pants coming in sight. he sighed before grabbing them and putting them on at the speed of light. you got up weakly and walked your way towards him.

san looked at you and immediately rushed to help you. “baby, stay still, you can barely walk.”

you locked gazes and you replied. “and just sit down on the floor of the men’s restroom?”

you quirked your eyebrow up and san shrugged a bit. “‘m just trying to help.” he sulked cutely and it made your heart swell with love.

you giggled as your fingers reached up to his messy hair. “i know you are, sannie, ‘m just kidding.” your fingers coiled around a lock of hair, curling it up. “now let me help you.” you repeated the action with the rest, finally perfecting his hairstyle with nothing more than your skillful fingers. meanwhile, san adjusted his pants and moved his legs around, doing silly movements to test the elasticity of the fabric, humming in approval when he felt nothing but comfortable.

you stepped back, taking in your work of art, nodding and sighing proudly. “perfect” you uttered.

”thank you, princess.” he leaned closer to peck your lips before his fingers brushed the door handle. “i’ll get going.”

”go kill that stage, pretty boy.” you encouraged, pride dripping off your tone.

san puffed his cheeks cutely, his eyes turning into pretty crescent moons. “yes, ma’am.”

and with that, he disappeared through the door, carefully clicking it shut. when the door closed, you crumbled down, shaky knees keeping your core shuddering. you stared down at your dripping pussy, gushing and coating the floor with san’s heavy cum. a strong blush heated your cheeks as you took in the view.

after a few minutes, the shakiness ceased and you were able to get up and clean the mess you and san had left on the tiles of the black marble floor. in the background, you could hear the sudden shouting of thousands of atinys combined with the faint sound of their song “halazia” reverberating throughout the whole arena, a sweet smile forming on your lips.

you remembered hongjoong’s angry demeanor when he overheard that san was having a problem with his outfit. so, you muttered under your breath, imaginatively responding to him. “told ya i’d take care of it.”

| masterlist

[rosy-hollow]

Your husband, Sukuna, is a menace—but he can't say no to your even bigger menace of a daughter.

He already can't say no to you—the absolute sweetheart he had fallen deeply for—so how could he stand a chance against his five-year-old daughter, who looked so much like you yet had the wrath and fury to make even hell freeze over?

It’s Yuna’s first day of kindergarten, and you and your husband have already been called to the school because of your girl's… behavioral issues.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. and Mrs. Sukuna. I, uh… as you’ve heard, Yuna has been acting disruptively in school today. We’ll have to send her home due to her actions, but I sincerely hope this doesn’t happen again."

Underneath the table, your hand finds your husband's reassuringly, squeezing it to let him know you'd handle this.

"I apologize for any inconvenience, sir... but may I know the details of what happened first?" you ask politely, maintaining a calm facade. And if the two of you weren’t talking to your daughter's school principal, Sukuna would’ve kissed you right then and there—because the moment he opened his mouth, he’d probably have a restraining order filed against him in every country.

Despite your calm demeanor, though, you were practically seething.

You knew your daughter. Yes, she had quite a temper, but to act up in such a way that caused a scene? That didn’t sound like her. And if she really had, then something serious must've happened.

The principal nods, sighing bitterly. "Apparently, there was a squabble between your daughter and another boy on the playground… He ended up with a tooth knocked out in the end."

You blink, taken aback, frowning.

Your daughter, though prone to getting angry, would never resort to violence. You and your husband raised her better than that.

Your blood simmers slightly as you take in the principal’s disdainful expression and condescending tone. You want to punch it off his face—but you don’t, much to your own chagrin.

Your husband is squeezing your hand so hard it feels like your bones might snap, but you still rub your thumb comfortingly against his knuckles.

"May I speak to my daughter? Though this behavior is unacceptable, this doesn’t sound like her at all," you say, and the principal sighs, nodding.

"Yes, but please make it quick."

You nod, mentally flipping the man off, before exiting the room with your furious husband in tow.

There, just outside, sits your daughter—wide red eyes filled with tears.

"I-I’m sorry, Mommy..." she whimpers softly, and something inside you breaks as you rush forward to envelop her in your arms.

It takes everything in you not to hunt down the people who reduced your loving daughter to this mess. And you're sure your husband isn’t doing any better—years and years of therapy doing everything it can to keep his rage at bay.

"H-He said my eyes m-made me look l-like a m-m-monster, and t-then he pushed me, and so I just pushed him back, and then he tripped over his shoelaces and his t-tooth fell out—"

Yuna is full-on sobbing now, and you freeze, holding her tightly.

Wordlessly, you pick up the small five-year-old and hand her to your husband, a glint in your eye. Sukuna stiffens, swallowing hard. His grip on Yuna tightens slightly as he watches you storm inside.

He’s only seen you mad maybe four times in your ten years of marriage—if Yuna could freeze hell over when she was angry, then you were the devil incarnate herself.

You reenter the principal’s office, slamming the door behind you. Sukuna decides to be a smart dad and take his daughter down the hall, avoiding what is definitely about to be verbal homicide.

When you finally exit the room, there's an eerily peaceful look on your face. Casually, you dust off your shirt, approaching your husband and daughter with a warm smile.

Sukuna and Yuna exchange uneasy glances.

"So~ who wants ice cream?"

Yuna’s not uneasy anymore.

Sukuna sighs.

He loves his two girls more than anything in the world—he never, ever would have pictured himself being the calmer one in the relationship, but you never ceased to prove him wrong.

That’s what he loved about you, though.

A/N: i love when beefy men are down bad for me (this has never happened)

[ohgodthevoices]

going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt

tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry

osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack

as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?

you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…

either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle

just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.

he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.

sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.

he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces

“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…

thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.

omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too

ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd

“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”

osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable

there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.

it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.

there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.

“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?

he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs

he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face

his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly

“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.

before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.

i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about

[satorus-princess]

Late Night Cravings

cw: smutty themes, fem!reader, cunnilingus, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, petnames (minors please dni)

the lower half of his face was glistening, the smacking of his lips against yours mingling with the heavenly sound of your overstimulated moans. his cerulean eyes were closed in bliss, occasionally opening to glance up at your face contorted in pleasure – your bottom lip captured by your top teeth, eyes rolled back, eyebrows drawn together.

you aren’t sure how long you have been sprawled out on the bed, legs feeling sore due to being held open by his large hands pushing your thighs apart. and you aren’t sure how his jaw isn’t hurting from devouring you, his tongue running up and down, in and out; his lips sucking and kissing. He has drawn out so many delicious orgasms from you that you have lost count.

“stop squirmin’,” he murmurs against your heat, sending vibrations through your core. you whine softly, feeling sensitive to the lightest touches.

“can’t…” you pant, trailing off due to your ability to talk being snatched away after around the fourth orgasm.

“can’t what? can’t stop squirming? or can’t talk? can’t take any more for me?” the smirk is obvious in his husky voice – he knows the answer is “yes” to all of those questions. but he doesn’t seem to care as he uses his index and middle fingers to spread your cunt further out for him, licking up from your entrance to your clit. he rapidly flicks his tongue against the swollen and sensitive bud, making you writhe even more than before. incoherent words strung together into a jumbled sentence leave your lips as one of your hands grasp at the, once pristine, sheets and the other roughly tugs his snowy hair, eliciting a grunt from him. “can’t get enough of you, pretty girl. was craving you all day, all i wanted was to bury my head between these thighs and taste you again and again… and again. fuck, i wanna marry this pussy.”

your silver ring glints in the dim light of the lamp in your shared bedroom as your hand flies to grab at something else – something to ground yourself, to prepare yourself for the next overwhelming climax.

the noises of him eating you out are so obscene – loud slurping and smacking of his lips, the sound of him spitting onto your already wet core, and don’t even mention the squelching when he thrusts two of his fingers inside, the schlop, schlop, schlop. your back arches off of the bed when his fingers stroke your walls and that sweet spot he always immediately finds, whilst alternating between flicking and sucking your clit with his tongue. your mouth falls open in a silent moan, eyes rolled back.

“you gonna cum f’me?” he asks, moving with precision and speed. He stares up at you again, smirking against your pussy as your body shakes and convulses, and feels as if it’s going to explode. “gonna make a mess like the dirty girl you are?”

he suddenly feels your walls contracting tightly around his lithe fingers and a sudden wetness that gushes out of your pussy, making yet another mess on his face and he groans. your release crashed over you so abruptly that even you couldn’t sense it coming, but it left you squirming under his touch and crying out his name. glistening tears run down your flushed cheeks as you try to push him away from your very, very sensitive pussy, but you have no strength left in your body. each of your orgasms gradually made your limbs jelly and your brain mush.

“you really are a dirty girl, huh? such a slut for dirty talk.” he licks his lips clean, his chin still dripping with your juices. he lifts his head to get a good look at you, and when he shuffles up the bed to tower over your panting form, you feel relieved that he’s stopped. “such a pretty girl, too. my pretty girl. with the prettiest pussy.”

his lips mould with yours when he leans down and you weakly kiss him back, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. you gaze hazily at him once he pulls away and stares down at you with yet another smirk, his lips swollen from the devouring he’s done for hours.

“i hope you know i’m not done yet. i don’t know if my craving is ever going to be satiated.” he trails kisses down your cheek, to your jaw, neck, collarbone. when he gets to your boobs, he sucks and bites and then, kisses the spots he bruised with his marks. he earns a few sighs of delight from you as he continues to move down your body, littering your skin with kisses and marks before he ends up back between your thighs.

“please… can’t take anymore… so sensitive,” you say with a whine when he presses a kiss to your clit. It makes your hips jerk in overstimulation. “no more…”

“oh, baby, but you sound so sweet when you’re all sensitive and overstimulated for me... your whines drive me crazy. i’ve cum in my boxers about two times already, just from eating you out... i wanna live right here, between your thighs.” he moans when he dives back in, licking at your slit to gather your juices on his tongue, tasting you to his satisfaction. he’s addicted and it shows – he looks as blissful as you do and he isn’t gaining any direct pleasure. yet, his boxers are soaked from his own cum.

he’s licking and sucking at your pussy, barely giving you a break to breathe. he thinks you taste heavenly, completely drugged up from your juices smeared across the lower half of his face and his nose, which nudges your clit deliciously.

“too muchhhh…!” you whine. but your pleas and whimpers only give him the drive to keep going.

“one more time… just one more. want this pretty pussy to cum on my face again.” his words are slightly slurred as his lips and tongue pleasure your soaking core. that has been about the third time he’s told you one more time, so you don’t believe his words.

fresh tears stream down your flushed cheeks, your chest heaving with pants. your limbs feel too weak to even push him away, allowing him to have his way with you as he continues to devour you like he can’t get enough. your eyes close, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you try to hold back a scream of overstimulation when the tip of his tongue rapidly flicks over your clit.

“ah, ah, no holding back, pretty girl. let me hear you…” he breathes against your cunt. “doing so good for me, just… one more fucking time, please.” his tongue works overtime trying to make you make another mess on his face; he wants his tongue soaked in your honeyed juices again.

you moan out his name, fingers tightly tugging at his locks again, trying to pull him away but also bringing him closer, not knowing what you want. he groans softly against you, his own eyes rolling back.

“listen to her… so wet, so sweet… fuck, what did i do to deserve such a perfect pussy? she’s singing so sweetly.” he’s delirious, drunk on your cunt, rambling into it as he continues to drag his tongue up and down your slit as if he can’t get enough.

he pulls back slightly to look at your weeping hole winking at him, juices dripping out. it’s as if he’s in a trance, eyes glazed over with love and lust as they glue to the sight.

one of his thumbs comes up to rub small circles on your clit, watching the way it winks at him again. it makes him smirk before he dives back in, this time his tongue moves slowly, taking his time savouring you. the tip of his tongue pushes past your folds and he groans deeply at the way your quivering walls pulse around his muscle. he’s so agile even with his tongue, curling it just right while his nose nudges your over-sensitive clit once again.

you consume his senses and he closes his eyes, enjoying your essence on his tastebuds, the sweet, sweet musk of your pussy, and the sound of your crying walls begging for release as he slowly moves his tongue.

almost as if his body is moving automatically, his ministrations speed up and his thumb rubs firm circles on your clit. you shudder with pleasure, fingers tightening in his hair and the sheets again as your thighs threaten to close around his head but his hands quickly push them back down with a determined grip. his head moves energetically between your thighs, quickly bringing you back to the verge of release and you chant his name as if it’s the only word you know.

“g-gonna… cum… wait… ah!” you stutter and moan. with a few more curls and thrusts of his tongue and circles on your bud, you cum almost explosively. your vision blurs, black dots filling your view as your back arches completely off the bed as a strangled moan of his name leaves your mouth.

“mmm, that’s it, pretty girl. let go for me, give me every last drop.”

who knows if gojo's craving was finally fulfilled.

[00valentina-writes00]

Greyson who has a wife that calls her mommy while going at it (headcanons)

♡♥︎Callin her Mommy♥︎♡

♥︎ The first time you call her Mommy, she freezes for a second—processing it, rolling the word over in her mind—before a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her lips. “Is that so, darling?”

♥︎ That one little word flips a switch in her. She was already dominant, already in control, but now? Now, she takes full ownership of you.

♥︎ The moment it slips from your lips, she immediately starts treating you differently—firmer, more possessive, more attuned to every little noise and reaction you give her.

♥︎ She leans into the title completely, using it against you in the filthiest ways—“Mommy knows what’s best, doesn’t she?” or “Come on, sweetheart, be a good girl for Mommy.”

♥︎ It absolutely ruins her when you whimper it while you’re right on the edge—gripping onto her for dear life, pleading for her to let you cum.

♥︎ She loves how it makes you more submissive without her even trying—just the way you melt under her touch, the way your voice gets all breathy when you say it.

♥︎ But if you ever try to use it to get out of trouble? That smug little smirk appears as she tilts your chin up, “Oh, you think that’s going to work on me, do you?”

♥︎ She starts using it to establish even more control—“Say it properly, love. What do you call me?”—and she won’t touch you until you do.

♥︎ If you say it in a needy, desperate voice, she might take pity on you… or she might decide to tease you for another hour just because she loves seeing you squirm.

♥︎ She adores the contrast—how strong and commanding she is, how completely she dominates you, but the moment you call her Mommy, you’re nothing but a whimpering mess in her hands.

♥︎ If you try to fight it, acting like it doesn’t make you weak in the knees, she’ll absolutely push you—whispering it in your ear, saying things like “You like when Mommy takes care of you, don’t you?” just to watch you fall apart.

♥︎ If she’s in a particularly soft mood, she leans into the caretaker aspect—stroking your hair, murmuring praise, holding you close while making you feel so small under her touch.

♥︎ But when she’s rough? Oh, it turns into something else. She has you on your hands and knees, gripping your hips tightly as she growls, “Isn’t this what you wanted, baby? To be fucked by Mommy until you can’t think straight?”

♥︎ She uses the title against you outside the bedroom too—resting a hand on your thigh at dinner, murmuring, “What’s wrong, love? Feeling needy for Mommy already?” just to see you squirm.

♥︎ If you ever tease her with it in public—maybe leaning in and whispering “Thank you, Mommy” in her ear just to see her reaction—oh, you’re in trouble. She’ll lean in just as close and murmur, “Just wait until I get you home, sweetheart.”

♥︎ She has a very strict rule: if you call her Mommy, then you have to listen to everything she says. No exceptions.

♥︎ If you slip up and say it in a bratty tone when you’re begging? Her smirk grows, her grip tightens, and suddenly you’re being flipped onto your stomach with a firm “Say it again, baby. Say it properly.”

♥︎ If she’s feeling extra mean, she makes you earn the right to call her Mommy—won’t let you say it until she decides you’ve been good enough for her.

♥︎ On the rare occasion she lets you take control for a moment, she absolutely melts if you cup her face and say, “Mommy looks so pretty like this.” It wrecks her. Completely.

♥︎ But the second she regains her composure? You’re done for. She’s pinning you down, making you repeat yourself as she ruins you.

♥︎ If you ever try to deny that you like calling her Mommy, she’ll get you so deep in pleasure that you say it instinctively—then she’ll smirk down at you, “Told you so, sweetheart.”

♥︎ She adores the contrast between how strong she is and how small she can make you feel—tipping your chin up, making you look her in the eye while she murmurs, “That’s my girl.”

♥︎ She loves holding your wrists above your head while she takes her time with you, whispering, “Mommy knows exactly what you need.”

♥︎ If she catches you staring at her hands while she’s working, she’ll chuckle and say something like, “You keep looking at me like that, and you’re going to have a real problem later, baby.”

♥︎ She has a habit of tugging your hair back when she’s in control, just to hear you gasp out “Mommy” with that breathless little whimper.

♥︎ She’s a very patient tease—if you get needy, she’ll simply stroke your cheek, kiss your forehead, and say, “Good girls wait for Mommy, don’t they?”

♥︎ The way you say it affects her mood—if you say it in a bratty way? She’s pinning you down, making you beg properly. If you say it in a soft, needy voice? Oh, she melts and gives you exactly what you want.

♥︎ She always makes sure you feel taken care of afterward—pulling you into her arms, stroking your hair, murmuring, “Mommy’s got you, baby. You did so well for me.”

♥︎ If you ever try to keep quiet during sex, she’ll grip your jaw, forcing you to look at her as she demands, “Say it for me, sweetheart.”

♥︎ She gets a thrill from hearing you say it when she’s taking you apart—especially when it turns into a desperate, helpless whimper against her skin.

♥︎ She absolutely adores when you bury your face in her neck and moan, “Mommy, please”—it makes her instantly feral.

♥︎ If she catches you daydreaming about it—getting all quiet and flustered—she’ll smirk and say, “Thinking about Mommy again, aren’t you?”

[cupidbedsy]

i would love a part two to the quinn neglecting you blurb :)

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked restless rose 🌹 !

warnings: quinn feeling like an ass, wrote on my phone so i don’t know how grammatically correct this is

word count: 740

florist cupid: the long awaited part two ! i’m so glad everyone liked this, i honestly didn’t think it would go crazy the way it did but im thankful it did.

it was about an hour that quinn was out of the apartment, thoughts racing through his head as he walked down the street. he’d shoot a weak smile and give a small wave to those who called out his name, even stopping to sign something once and a while.

but for the most part, he spent his time in his own headspace, thinking about the vents that had happened in the past couple hours. he’d been neglecting you for weeks. how could he not haven seen it?

at some point during his walk he stopped outside a flower stand, eyes trailing over each and every flower, finally settling on a small bouquet of one of your favorite flowers, making small talk with the older lady who was working the stand.

“special date tonight?”

quinn looked at her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “no i uh… kind of messed up.”

the lady gave him a knowing smile, finishing wrapping the flowers nicely. it was silent for the next few moments before she handed the bouquet to him. he went to take out his wallet but the woman just shook her head with a fond look on her face, “don’t worry about it.”

quinn fumbled, almost dropping his cash on the ground, “are you sure? i couldn’t just-“

“is she important?”

he nodded instantly, “yeah, most important person in the world. she um-“ he let a smile tug at his lips and tears prick his eyes, “she’s everything to me.”

“then it’s no big deal. you only get one of those girls, don’t lose her now.”

quinn thanked her again, walking away from the stand, but not before slipping money into the small jar.

━。゜✿ ゜。━

when he got back to your shared apartment, he played with the zipper of his jacket for a few moments before sliding the key in and unlocking the door.

you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch the whole time he had been gone, you were too engrossed in your thoughts to move.

the sound of the lock unlocking stirred you from trance, snapping your head to look at the door.

quinn looked even more tired than when he had left, his hair messy as if he had been running his hands through it nonstop on his walk.

your eyes found the flowers in his hands, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you spoke softly, “quinny.”

he gave you a weak smile, slipping his shoes off and walking over to where you now stood. he handed you the flowers, the fingers on his free hand intertwining with yours.

he leaned down, letting your forehead rest against his. he played with your fingers, his and yours breathing being the only sound you could hear.

“they’re beautiful… thank you.”

“i’m sorry.”

you peered up at him through your eyelashes, taking in his guilty expression. you detangled your hand from his, reaching up to cup his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek, “quinn-”

“i’m sorry.” he repeated, placing his hand on your hip to draw you closer to him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you aside, i shouldn’t have been so absorbed in the team and i should’ve been taking care of myself. you’re the most important person in my life and i wouldn’t have even been able to get through this past year without you, i shouldn’t have taken you for granted.”

you didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him talk, hanging on every word he said. you knew he was sorry, you knew he didn’t mean to do this, but he did and it happened.

it was a rough patch in your relationship, but you would get through it, you knew you would.

he frowned when he saw the tears in your eyes, moving his hand to grasp yours again, “don’t cry, please. you know i hate when you do, especially if it’s because of me.”

he took the flowers from your hand, placing them down on the coffee table to bring you into a hug, cradling your head to his chest.

“i’ll make it up to you, i promise even if it’s the last thing i do.”

“don’t need to make it up to my quinn,” your fingers grasped at his sweater, clutching it like a lifeline. “you’re here now, and you apologized, not that you needed to, but that’s what matters. you’re here now.”

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

[writing-mlm]

When Will I see you again?

Summary: After the second task, Cedric can’t keep his feelings for his best friend a secret. Things don’t go as plan after the third task, though. Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Male!Reader Wc: 5.3k tags/warnings: ravenclaw reader, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, coma, draco is a dick, HP slander a/n: obligatory I would curb stomp jkr if given the chance

The Great Hall’s entrance was filled with students, all of whom were waiting for the clock to strike eight and the doors would open. Partners from separate houses were finding each other on the edges of the crowd; thankfully you hadn’t been one of those. Ever the gentleman Cedric had waited at the top of Ravenclaw’s staircase for you. Even if he hadn’t asked you in a romantic sense and said you were going as mates. Cho had declined his offer and you weren’t all that interested in the girls at school. 

No other reason. 

Soon after getting to the crowd Professor McGonagall had called the champions to the front of it. You’d seen Krum and Hermione and took a second for yourself, surely the eighteen-year-old Quidditch star hadn't asked out the barely fifteen-year-old Hermione? 

You didn’t feel strange in the line of pairs, standing behind Hermione but in front of Parvati. It felt right to be considered Cedric’s partner for the Yule Ball. 

Cedric carefully wrapped his hand around your elbow as the rest of the students entered the Great Hall. His grip was loose until McGonagall told the champions to follow after her where his fingers tightened around your satin blazer. You felt him take a deep breath with each step, the applause from all sides felt deafening but at least most of the attention was on Harry and not the two guys walking together. 

But it wasn’t as though you weren’t known together. While Cedric was known as the human embodiment of the Hufflepuff values, you were his Ravenclaw best friend. Friends since your first year after he’d helped you get the courage to get on a broom during lessons. Such good friends that other Ravenclaws stopped being surprised when you cheered for Cedric during Hufflepuff Vs. Ravenclaw games.

It’s just now you’re older and slowly growing out of the hormonal phase that awakened certain things in you. And Cedric. Although smart as you were, you were convinced he was thoroughly set on dating Cho Chang. And she's lovely, if you were into the girls at school you’d probably go for her, too. 

Your eyes catch her on the dance floor, dancing with some random Gryffindor guy with a tight smile and barely hidden boredom whenever they would talk between dancing. The guy looked fine, though. Content even. 

You admittedly hadn’t danced much that night, at least not nearly as much as other people did. On Cedric’s own account, he would’ve had a heart attack if he held you so close again without being able to hold you closer. He couldn’t bear staring at your face as he held you without his face turning red. How his hands would get so sweaty he’d need a second to wipe them on his shirt without you taking notice because you’d been trying to do the same thing. 

So, sitting and eating was the next best thing. Laughing and talking about whatever you wanted until it was time to leave. He’d found Harry and told him about some of the tournament business while you waited at the bottom of the staircase, messing with the yellow corsage he’d gifted you at the beginning of the night. 

That night he walked you back to the top of the tower and lingered behind, feeling as if he ended the night on such an open note it would haunt him for the rest of his days. 

—

Anyone who’s friends with Cedric knows he wakes up an hour before breakfast. He spends thirty minutes getting dressed and then spends the rest of the time wandering about the grounds before it’s time to eat. Everyone also knows that at some point during the wandering, you appear at his side. 

His routine was a little different today considering today was the second task and he was a bit anxious. This time he waited near Ravenclaw Tower for you, he’d seen most of your housemates walking past him and then one of your roommates. Cedric catches him before he can walk too far away and asks about you. Your roommate shrugs, they haven’t seen you since last night. 

Now, Cedric doesn’t panic. You’ve probably fallen asleep in the library again and you’re waiting in the Great Hall. That happens about once a month. So, he goes to the hall and looks around for you. He sees the blue robes from your house but he doesn’t see you. 

Now he’s a little worried. His leg bounces as he eats his breakfast, eyes focused on the hall doors before McGonagall once again gathers the champions and he’s off to the lake with Fleur and Krum. He notes that Harry isn’t there yet but that wasn’t where his focus was. 

He stares into the lake, wondering where you are as his fingers dance across the yarn of your friendship bracelet made with the grace of a twelve-year-old boy. 

He doesn’t catch when Harry arrives right before the task starts, his head snapping over to Bagman when his voice booms through his ears. 

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two…three!” A whistle echoes through the cold air, quickly drowned out by the sound of cheering from the stands. 

Cedric quickly uses a bubble charm before he dives into the icy water. He fights the urge to swim back up as his body shivers, fighting against the water as he swims aimlessly in the deep gray-lit water. Fish dart past him as he swims and he panics at the sight of an arm in his peripheral when he gets closer to the bottom of the lake. There’s no one else around him, though. He double-checks and then triple-checks. He can’t see anyone— no, he squints through his bubble and sees Harry. He’s spotting whatever they’re chasing and he swims in the same direction. 

He fights through the wildlife and creatures that try to attack him, namely the grindylows emerging from the weeds. But his focus is more on what he’s approaching. There’s a statue of a merperson and attached to its tail are four bound people. Fleur’s sister, Ron, Hermione, and you. All of whom look to be sleeping, heads lax on your shoulders, and bubbles rising from your mouth with each breath. 

He panics— blinking wildly at the sight because he’d been so worried something happened to you and this… this was crazy. What if he hadn’t known the charm? What would’ve happened if the merpeople had turned on you? What if he didn’t make it down within the hour time frame? 

(We've taken what you’ll sorely miss— that’s what the clue had said. But past an hour, the prospects black. Too late, it’s gone. It won’t come back.) 

You won’t come back to him if he’s late. You’re what he’ll sorely miss and he knows they’re right. He knows deep in his heart that taking you was like taking his oxygen, taking you would destroy him in ways he couldn’t— doesn’t want to— imagine. 

Somehow Harry’s already there, arguing with merpeople who stop him from freeing everyone. He tells Harry to hurry, he knows Fleur and Krum are close behind him and as much as he wants to win he also doesn’t want Harry to get anything less than second place. 

He pulls out a knife from his pocket and cuts through the ropes of weed. Once his knife drags all the way through, he grabs you by the waist and swims up. He doesn’t waste his time checking on Harry or the others. He only cares that he gets you up to the surface. That you wake up. 

His head breaks through the surface of the water and the cold air stings his face as the bubble pops. Immediately his eyes check on you, the voices from the sounds nothing but noise until your eyes open and you cough up some of the lake water. 

“Thank Merlin,” Cedric pants and drags himself to the edge, pushing you up before he pulls himself up to the bank as well. 

“You won?” You chitter, the cold hitting you all at once. Someone hands the two of you thick blankets as Madam Pimfrey shoves a hot potion down your throats that wakes the two of you up a little bit. 

“I thought you were dead,” He admits, opening his blanket to let you inside. You shake your head as you sit on a bench, head resting on his shoulder because despite having slept for hours, you’re quite tired still. 

“Dumbledore bewitched us to sleep, last night McGonagall asked to see me. Thought she found out about me sneaking books out of the library,” You joke to try and lighten his clearly down mood. He hasn’t looked away from you since the moment he resurfaced, his heart hasn’t stopped hammering.

He never wants to experience worry like this ever again— even if in hindsight there was never any real danger. He blinks, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek as you stare at him, worried because he hasn’t said anything aside from that. Truthfully, he doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? How he feels about you— about this? Surely that isn’t it. 

Cedric is Hufflepuff’s golden boy. Truly he is Hogwarts' golden boy; he’s the kindest, most honest person to grace the infamous halls. He always has a smile on his face and he stands up for what he knows is right. But he’s afraid he hasn’t been entirely honest with you. His best friend. 

He doesn’t know how to flat-out say he’s in love with you, that he has been since your fourth year. 

“Cedric,” You whisper, wiping a tear from him. He’s been thinking so much that everyone has come back and he hasn’t noticed. Missed that Fleur didn’t finish the task and Harry had brought her sister up instead. “I wasn’t in danger, I’m alright.”

“I…” He blinks, holding your wrist. “I’m in love with you.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision!” Bagmen announces and you flinch but don’t look away from Cedric. Your eyes are wide and your heart thumping behind your ribcage. He doesn’t look away either, looking between your eyes. 

“I have been for a while but I was… terrified seeing you down there,” He continues and you tune out Bagman until you hear Cedric’s name. 

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in the crowd cheer. “We therefore award him forty-seven points.” 

“One minute off,” You whine, rolling your eyes. Cedric laughs, his forehead pressed against yours as the judges list off the remaining scores. Krum had gotten forty and Harry had gotten forty-five, putting Cedric in first place for the task and tied with Harry for first overall. 

You smile at him as you tell him your findings. He just nods, his nose knocking into yours before you’re herded into the castle by Madam Pomfrey to get dry clothes. He holds your hand the whole way there, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

The two of you are put in separate rooms to change, as are the other champions and the hostages and it gives the two of you entirely too much silence and time to overthink. 

Being in love with your best friend is difficult, especially if you’re queer. There’s the added layer of are they also queer? Because you know for a fact Cedric had real feelings for Cho, so he’s not gay. But there’s a plethora of things he could be… into you wasn’t one you really thought about, though. Even if you joke kissed that one time at a post-game party after a dare. 

Being in love with your best friend and admitting it is crazy. Cedric spends the whole time getting changed worrying that he’s ruined everything. He’s sure he’s going to leave the room and you’re going to ignore him. That things are going to be different for all the wrong reasons but he couldn’t keep it a secret for another second. He just couldn’t. And he’s not sorry about that. 

But, he’s pleasantly surprised when you’re waiting in front of the room he was changing in. Your back pressed to the wall with your hands behind you, staring at the floor until you heard the door opening. Standing up straight, you smile at Cedric and fix your jumper over your pants out of nervous habit. 

“Hi,” 

“Hi,” He carefully closes the door behind him while you look up and down the corridor. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm… I just…” Staring at him, you shrug. “Do you want to go on a date next weekend? Madam Puddifoot’s Tea shop, maybe?” He smiles brightly and nods all the while you try and contain your own reaction. “Cool… well… they’re also having a celebration for you winning first place after dinner. Ravenclaw’s hosting, I’m supposed to bring you,”

“So we have three hours to plan our date?” He holds his hand out for you. 

“I doubt we’ll need that much time,” You laugh, taking his hand. He just shrugs and guides you to where the two of you normally hang out. “Besides, I’m taking you. You don’t get to plan anything!” 

“Fine,” He dramatically sighs. 

—

By the third task, you’re still not an official couple. There’s no rush on putting a label just yet, you both agreed to it when a friend mentioned that for two people going on weekly dates, you two don’t seem any closer to dating. 

Besides, there’s a tournament to win. 

You settled in the stands of the Quidditch field which looked completely different with the twenty-foot tall hedges that ran all the way around the edge. You spot Cedric amongst the champions as he fiddles with his wand. He spots you, too, waving as you sit next to his father and mother. You’re unsure of why you’re allowed to sit in the family stands, but it’s all the same to Cedric— easier to spot the three most important people in his life, too. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Trizward Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each— Mr. Cedric Diggory, both of Hogwarts School!” You cheer along with the rest of Hogwarts, loud enough that the birds in the forest fly away from the harsh noise. 

Harry and Cedric go in first and once they disappear, you can’t see them. There’s no magical broadcast and so, you’re left in the dark of what’s happening inside of the maze. So, you talk with his parents and then Ron’s family to pass the time.

You’re unsure of how much time passed before you see Harry slam into the ground with Cedric. Everyone cheers but you squint. Surely you’re seeing it wrong, right? That’s not what you’re seeing.

“Mr. Diggory…?”

“I see it, too,” He whispers and the two of you break into a sprint down the stands. By that point, Harry and Cedric are crowded by Fudge, Mad-Eye Moody, and Dumbledore as screams echo throughout the stands. 

You make it there long before Mr. Diggory does, sliding on the grass once you're close enough to reach him. He’s laid there, eyes closed and body unmoving. He looks as though he’s in pain yet still as if that’s how he… 

You cup his face, sobs bubbling through your chest and out your mouth, as he lies there. Your head shakes as you examine him and Harry keeps muttering something. An explanation, apologies— you don’t know. You can’t hear anything over your sobs and the shouts from Mr. Diggory. Cupping his face again, lay your head on his chest before you feel it. 

…thump….thump thump….

You gasp and sit up, checking his neck before you cry out. 

“He’s alive!” You choke, pulling him into your chest and rocking him back and forth. “He’s alive!” You declare as Mr. Diggory approaches, carefully, you set him back down so he can see for himself. He checks for himself as Dumbledore calls over Madam Pomfrey and he cheers, kissing Cedric’s head and holding his limp hand tightly in his. 

—

The killing curse. That’s what Harry said. Voldemort or someone had used the killing curse on Cedric after they both grabbed the portkey. He was dead. Cedric was dead for over five minutes. They don’t know what happened but he was dead one second and alive the next. You didn’t care for answers, how could you when all you could hear was the fact that he was alive? 

Sitting at his bedside, you stroke his hairline as he sleeps. A coma, alive but in a coma. It was better than dead, you keep reminding yourself when you find yourself frowning at his sleeping figure. Mr. Diggory allowed for him to remain at Hogwarts, he and his wife agreed that when Cedric wakes up, he should be somewhere he’s familiar with. He’ll want to see you as soon as possible. 

It’s only been a week but they’ve visited him on the weekends. You think they’re staying in a nearby inn for the time being. He looks about the same, though. He doesn’t look ill or dead. Just asleep. The magic Madam Pomfrey and medical professionals use on him keeps him alive and thriving according to them. You try to learn about it when you can but your brain is mush half of the time. The other half is replaying how he looked when he was dead. 

“Would you like to comb his hair?” A nurse asks and you nod, thanking her as you grab the comb and start gently working through his hair. You tell him about your day, about classes. About how he and Harry were declared the winners of the tournament. Harry declined the trophy altogether, insisting that it goes to Cedric instead. 

You glance at it on his bedside table. You’re unsure of who brought it, probably Dumbledore or something. You describe it to him, how shiny it is. How it looks like a giant goblet and you’ll definitely pour some good booze in there as soon as you can. Celebrate with him. 

A part of you waits for him to talk, to fill in the caps of silence but it doesn’t come. But you still talk. You talk about how there’s some new drama in your house. About how Cho keeps asking you if he’s okay. She wants to visit but she doesn’t know if she should. She doesn’t want to impose. You laugh and ask him if there’s someone you need to worry about. 

He still doesn’t answer. 

Setting the comb down, you stare at him for a while before checking the time. It’s nearly dinner time but you’re not hungry. You haven’t been for a week but you still eat. You guess skipping one dinner wouldn’t be so bad so you climb into the bed next to him and lay your head on his chest. 

His heart is a steady rhythm under your ear, there’s a warmth to his body that makes you want to fall asleep faster and you do. 

Sometime later, when visiting hours officially end, Madam Pomfrey goes to tell you it’s time but finds you fast asleep. She sighs and debates waking you up before she decides against it. She’s not cruel. 

—

“And then Snape had the audacity to assign a mountain of homework,” You grumble as you angrily eat your lunch next to Cedric. It’s been two weeks of the coma, fourteen days of spending all of your free time in the infirmary, three hundred and thirty-six hours of not knowing if Cedric is going to wake up again. You know he is. He has to. You don’t just survive the killing curse only to die in a coma. He wouldn’t do that. You know it. 

Rather frustratingly Hogwarts is currently split in two on the topic. There are those who think he won’t wake up and those who know he will. No one talks about it around you, though. They’re not that insensitive, you guess. You still hear it, of course, whispers travel far, and first years aren’t all that good at whispering. 

You don’t care about either side. This isn’t some weird little bet like it was with Harry and Cedric. It was weird and you’ve been slowly dealing with it. Nothing harmful, not in a way they could prove, at least. It’s hard to trace back the sudden appearance of zits forming the words Prat on someone’s forehead. 

“Our professors are still giving me those sad looks,” You admit, pushing the food around with the back of your fork. “It’s like I walk into a room and suddenly all they can think about is how I’m… here? I don’t know. But they keep asking me if I'm okay and that I should sleep more.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “They’re the ones giving us crazy amounts of homework. I don’t envy the work you’re gonna do when you wake up. But I’ll be here to help you study, of course.”

The doors open and you peek behind you, seeing his parents walking inside. They look how you feel but they smile as you look at each other. You wave as you stand up to give them space with their son.

“Ah, your folks are here. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.” Squeezing his hand, you collect your stuff and leave for your dorm where you sleep until you’re woken up from your nightmare. From there, you sneak down to the infirmary and sit on the floor next to his bed. 

It’s incredibly quiet inside of there. Only one other student is there for breaking a bone. She’ll be out in the morning. You find yourself hating her for that and have to stop yourself from getting angry at a thirteen-year-old for being able to walk around. 

Madam Pomfrey catches you during her rounds and crosses her arms as you sheepishly smile at her. She sighs and motions you to lie down. You thank her as you lay next to Cedric but she doesn’t acknowledge it as she walks away. 

—

The infirmary is cold, colder than you would’ve expected but it is starting to snow so you guess it’s to be expected. Thankfully, you’re wearing Cedric’s Hufflepuff sweater to keep you warm. It still smells like him, you don’t know why you expected it not to, but when you put it on you’re ashamed to admit you cried for nearly an hour. 

“If this is payback for the second task,” You start, your voice wavering as you stare down at Cedric’s unmoving body. “It’s gone on entirely too long. Wake up, Cedric. Please,” Your voice cracks as you fall into the chair. Covering your mouth, you stare at him as he remains unmoving. You just want something, anything to prove that he’s not a husk of a person. Something other than his breathing. Maybe a cough. You’ll even take a wheeze. A sneeze. Anything. 

“Merlin,” Looking away, you inhale and look back at him. “I’ll do anything you ask, promise! I’ll eat those nasty snacks you like that taste like puke. I’ll drink cold tea for a year! I’ll… it doesn’t matter what you ask as long as you wake up!” But he doesn’t move. He hasn’t moved since they set him on that fucking cot. He doesn’t stir, he doesn’t snore. He just lays there and you’re expected to be happy that he is. That the only sign he’s alive is his shallow breathing and his chest rising. 

A nurse walks in for his daily medication and you don’t watch as she makes him drink it. You just hold his hand, playing with his growing nails before quietly asking for a nail clipper. He doesn’t like them long, they poke him. It also gets caught on his clothes, so he keeps them pretty low. 

“Y’know what? I’m gonna paint your nails if you don’t wake up,” You decide as you’re clipping his nails. “Yup. Neon pink and green. So, you better wake up soon.” Dusting his nails off, you look at him for a sign that he’s listening. Any sign, really. But there’s none and you quietly sigh before climbing into bed next to him. 

Looking up at him, you kiss his shoulder before tucking your head into his chest. It’s not dinner yet, it’s barely even lunch but you don’t want to be awake right now. You’re tired of the reminders, tired of looking at him in the white bed under the white blanket. You miss his smile and laugh that you can only see in your dreams now. 

—

“I got detention for a week,” You angrily admit as you toss yourself onto the chair next to him. It’s been four weeks of him being in a coma. His hair has grown a bit, you didn’t notice until recently. “They were going to give me longer but said because of my situation it’ll only be a week.” You use air quotes as you say ‘situation’, angrily looking around as though someone was going to agree with you. 

“Bloody Malfoy running his fucking mouth about you. Laughing with his little mates who have their tongues down his throat, his little lap dogs without a fucking brain! Talkin’ about you being a lost cause and a…” You stop as you find yourself getting angry again. “I knocked him out. He’s awake now, I wasn’t allowed in here until he left.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You need to calm down. Talk to him about something happier. Talk about the positives of your day. 

“My parents wrote, they wish you well. They invited you and your folks over during break and said they can’t wait to see you again. Can’t wait for you to meet Tate’s little puppies. They’re the cutest and maybe your dad would let you guys keep one,” You smile at the nurse as she brings over a comb and brush. Quietly, you thank her before moving your chair closer to the bed. 

“I’m not sure if you noticed but they upgraded your cot. It’s roughly the size of your dorm bed; I think they did that ‘cause I keep sleeping here.” It’s been nearly every night that you spend down in the infirmary. Students who come and go with their own injuries have mentioned it to their peers. Apparently, you cry in your sleep and it keeps them up. Although no one is blaming you for that, they’re mostly just pitying you at this point. 

Combing through his hair with the brown wine tooth comb, you give Cedric his usual hairstyle and smile down at him. 

“I reckon this length looks good on you, hopefully, you don’t cut it. I quite like it,” Gently brushing his hair away from his face, your lip wobbles and you force yourself to look away. “I have class but I’ll be back, I promise.”

—

Six weeks. A month and two weeks. More days than you care to admit. 

He’s doing better, according to the doctor who visits on Mondays. She said he should wake up soon but she didn’t give an estimate. Soon could be a year, apparently. 

Unfortunately, today has been exceptionally rough. Snake’s been a larger prick, you tanked your history quiz, you overslept and missed your whole first period, and worst of all, you waited a whole thirty minutes at your usual spot waiting for Cedric before you remembered. 

Wiping your eyes with your hands, you pull your legs up to the frame of his bed and lay your head on your thighs. 

“I’ve been looking for spells to get in your head,” You admit through quiet sobs. “Maybe then we could talk. I miss your voice. I miss you so much. It’s getting harder and I’m not blaming you. I know this is a good outcome, I know I should be grateful you weren’t left in that cemetery to rot. I know I should be jumping for joy because you’re alive but it doesn’t feel like it. I feel like I’m losing you.” Blinking down to the floor, you chew on your bottom lip. 

“Break is coming soon. They’re going to transfer you during it, so you’re not alone. I don’t know if they’ll let me sleep over still. You’ll be so far from me, too. Five hours by car, I checked. I’m sorry if I sound selfish, I keep talking about me. But I don’t know… how to talk to you right now.” Looking at him, you reach over and grab his hand. 

“If you want to… go… you can. I don’t know if you’re in pain or something. I just want you to feel better, even if it means you’ll be gone.” Blinking rapidly, you tuck your head back between your legs and cry. You don’t know how long you’ve sat there like that but you get startled at the feeling of his limp hang gripping yours. 

It’s not tight but you know it’s there as you look at him. His eyes are open, just barely but they’re open. You shudder at the sight, nearly falling from your chair.

“Cedric,” You whisper and he cracks a smile. “Oh Godric,” Smiling, you squeeze his hand before hugging him. Smiling into his neck, you feel him start to hug you back. 

“That’s my name,” He mutters, voice dry and hoarse but it’s his. Madam Pomfrey walks over for her rounds and gasps at the sight of the two of you before rushing to send for his doctors. Slowly, you pull away and look at him. “Is there water?” Nodding, you reach over and grab your bottle from the table before giving it to him. 

He struggles to sit up, giving you a pleading look and you prop him up without question. You help him drink, too, trying not to cry because he’s sitting up. He’s not laying down anymore and his eyes are open. 

He’s awake and alive. 

“What did I miss?” He asks. 

“I spent six weeks giving you updates and you didn’t hear a single word?” You snort. “Of course,” 

“Six weeks?” He echos and you slowly nod. “What happened?”

“Short story; you died and came back but you were in a coma. The long story is for later. When you’re back to normal. But you won the tournament! Uh, your parents have the trophy but I don’t doubt they’ll be here soon. They’ve come every Saturday and Sunday,” 

“They do?”

“Mhmm, I left the three of you alone so I don’t know what you guys talked about.” Silence falls over the room as the two of you stare at each other. 

“Were you crying?” He softly asks and you shake your head. 

“Allergies, I decided playing with a cat was better than being able to breathe properly,” You lie and he doesn’t believe you but lets it slide and pats the bed. Sitting back down, he pulls you down and strokes the top of your head. Sighing with content, you look up at him and smile. , 

“I love you,” He kisses the top of your head before he speaks. 

“I love you, too.” He waits for a second. “Does this mean we’re dating?”

“Yes, dork, it does,” You snort and he frowns, complaining that you’re being mean to him after he just woke up. 

“Wait,” He shifts a little and you hum. “Why are my nails pink and green?”

[jjaehyunnxie]

possessive!jeno x reader, where jeno reminds reader who owns her after breaking up

a/n: this just fiction btw, nobody should treat you like this!!!

! MDNI, jeno is kinda mean, angry sex, unprotected (no!!)

“yn, open the door.” jeno’s text flashed on your screen. you sigh rolling your eyes, turning the phone screen-side down and resuming whatever you were watching on tv.

your phone buzzes. “jeno”. gosh, this guy can’t take a hint, can he?

“what!” you answer, pissed off at his constant persistence.

“yn. open the door while I’m being nice, okay?” he was breathless, like he’s been running to your place. his fists bang on the door.

you scoff, hanging up and dragging your steps to the door, unlocking it and peaking through. “jen, I already told you we’re ov—“

your words were swallowed up as Jeno pushes the door open, slamming it behind him as he pulls you in a desperate and rough kiss. “don’t fucking play with me. we both know you don’t mean that.” his hands grip at your hips possessively.

“what? I was very clear in what I said!”

“yeah? and you moved on so fast? not even a fucking week passed and I see you giggling and throwing suggestive glances at some random bastard! you need to be taught a proper lesson, don’t you?” his fingers dig into your hips, a sensation that spurs your stomach and makes your knees feel weak.

“It’s none of your business what I do! I already broke up with—“ jeno’s hand rushes to your throat, gripping onto it, thumb pressing hard and almost cutting your air supply.

“of course it’s my business. what’s mine is mine, right? how could I stay still while some fucker rubs his hand on my girl’s thigh like that, huh? that’s something only I get to do to you.”

just as your eyes were starting to tear up, he let’s go, leaving you coughing. he doesn’t let you rest for too long before you find your chest pressed against your tall windows, showing a gorgeous night city view. jeno holds your wrists together behind your back as his finger tugs at the hem of your shorts.

“now, let me remind you what the fuck you’re missing on, sweetheart.“ he says teasingly as his hand slips your shorts off, revealing your damp panties to him. “fucking hell. you fucking whore. got so wet from me choking you, huh?”

“n-no, that’s not…” you try to protest but you’re left choking on your words as his two fingers slip in you, going in deep and quickly finding that sweet spot that only he knew of. you couldn’t hold the desperate moans that startes to escape your lips, your breath fogging up the window as your face is pressed against the cold glass.

“need to show this whole city who the fuck you belong to. maybe that’ll teach you something, huh? take your top off.” he orders. you peak at him over your shoulder, his hair is messed up and his eyes are dark with lust and need. His eyebrow raises at your lack of response and gives your ass a harsh slap. “hello? I said take your top off.”

you oblige, fingers hesitating at the hem of your shirt before you pull it over your head, bare breasts set free with a bounce. “there we go, that’s more like it. now perk your ass up just like this and look out the window while I fuck this pretty pussy.”

the tip of his hard cock teases your entrance as he takes in your warmth before sliding it smoothly down your hole. “fuuuuckk…you’re perfect.” he murmurs under his breath, your slick walls dragging on him blurring his mind.

his thrusts are slow but deep, taking his time to slide out and before pushing roughly in you, hitting that sweet spot and making sure you feel every inch of him. maybe if he engraves that feeling in your mind, you’d know he’s the only one who can really fill you up like this.

he leans down to suck and bite at your back, leaving obvious marks of possession in places others could see.

jeno senses your walls throbbing around him, a signal he knew all too well. his thrusts become ragged, fingers digging into your hips as his eyes are fixed on the way your ass just sinks down onto his length.

“mm’jeno…” you mumble, your boobs pressed against the cold window, a grave contrast from your growing hot body.

“what is it? tell me, baby. I’m the only one who can give you what you need.”

“mmh, ‘gonna cum Jen.” you whine.

“beg for it.” he orders, but your mind is too foggy to hear his words. his hand lands on your ass again with a harsh slap. “I said fucking beg for it, slut! tell me who you wanna cum on!”

“wanna cum on jeno’s cock! fuck—please, give it to me, I promise I’ll be good…!”

“promise?” his voice is teasing, an obvious smirk could be heard from his tone. “yes..! yes, fuck, I promise!!” you whine, unable to hold your release in any longer.

“fucking cum on my cock, then. come on.” he growls, his hips slamming into you before you finally come undone on him, cunt clenching on his length.

you whine and cry, overwhelmed from your sensitive cunt as he continues to thrust into you. “shh, baby. jus’ a little more okay? wanna claim this fucking pussy.”

he shoots his ropes of hot cum in you, hips stuttering from the overstimulation. He’s quick to catch your body as it falls limp in his hands. “this better’ve taught you who really owns you.”

[stealvrth]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ; perv!k. taehyung x fem!reader

summary : taehyung loves you, so much. when he misses you, he'll steal a pair of your panties from the laundry basket and jerk himself with it whilst his nose is buried in another. he pretends it's his pretty girl's pussy; and if you catch him, even better.

warnings : nsfw (MDNI), caught masturbating, p in v, unprotected sex, pretty perv taehyung <33

wc : 692

taehyung loved you. he loved inviting himself over whilst you were away — whether it was for study, work or any other activities. he tells himself he should be with you, supporting you, like a good boyfriend should. but once he makes himself comfy in your sheets, completely engulfed by your scent, he can't compel himself to leave.

at some point he starts getting ansty, hyper aware of the twitch in his pants. your smell clouds his mind, his hips slowly bucking up into the air. it gets too much for him, too overwhelming and too sweet.

his hand must have slipped, that's what he tells himself when one pair of your panties is he tightly in his hand whilst he fists his cock, moaning and whining while he sniffs another.

it wasn't his fault. couldn't be. it was your fault. your fault he was a whiny, pathetic mess. your fault his drippy, needy cock weeped all over your sheets while he got himself off to the thought of you.

you whose name is on taehyung's lips as he lies in your bed, dreaming about tasting you, feeling you, as he fucks his fist like an animal. 

he's so close, so close, panting and crying out for you. then the door swings open, and he's certain he cums there and then at the sight of you, his pretty little baby.

“tae?” the question falls innocently from your lips, and he whines when you blink those gorgeous lashes at him. “are those– are those my..?”

you step closer towards him, and he moans, never once ceasing the pleasure on his cock. “fuck.. need you baby. wanna pump your lil cunt with my cum.” he looks at you, pretty lips swollen from how hard he was biting. “please let me fuck you baby.”

the moan that falls from his lips is so lewd you can't help the blush dusting your cheeks. “wanna fuck me?” you whisper as your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck. taehyung nods frantically, craning his neck to try and capture your lips in a kiss.

tongues and teeth clash. the kiss is messy, taehyung pulling you into his lap as he gently squeezes your ass, kissing you even deeper. his hand finds your skirt, quickly bunching it up at your waist and pushing your lace to the side.

you’re flipped before you know it, taehyung moving down to suck lightly at your neck. you can feel his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit. one of his huge hands is spread across the expanse of your stomach and taehyung feels a sick rush of power as traces the skin slowly.

“gonna fill you up. watch your lil tum swell.”  he groans low and gives a quick rut of his cock between your folds. you keen at the feeling and squirm, trying to push yourself back onto him. “fucking missed you, baby.” 

“yeah?” you pant, voice breathless and needy. “please, tae, don’t wait. please—” 

his hand comes down on your ass before you can finish your sentence and your whole body jolts as your words are broken by a sharp moan. taehyung doesn't waste anymore time before he's inside you, head in the crook of your neck as he sucks harshly at the skin.

he's whining and panting and bucking needily into your messy, drooling cunt, his tip kissing that spot that has you seeing stars. you're sure he's moaning loader than you are, thrusting sloppily into you.

“fuuck.. ways take me so well. i wanna cum, wanna cum so deep inside you.” his hands are on your chest, playing with your nipples as he cries into your neck. “m'gonna cum babe. gonna let me cum in that pretty pussy? please?”

he doesn't wait for your to answer when he does, cock drooling and coating your walls with his hot load. his hand drifts from your chest to your stomach, feeling as he unloads himself inside you. you come undone shortly after, taehyung weeping as he moans your name over and over.

he always missed you, and he loves knowing that you'll always make it up to him.

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

19 promise. where a new promise is forged in place of broken ones.

<< 18 hiraeth. | >> 20 (coming soon)

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 3.1k warnings: angst, what's new :)

there is an indescribable feeling welling within your chest, a sensation that prickles at the edges of your frozen heart, as if it had weathered a long winter, as if spring has finally arrived, the sun smiling warmly upon you and welcoming you into its comforting embrace.

a mixture of nostalgia, melancholy and regret that seems to have seeped into your bones, unable to shake it off. 

semi and his now fiancée are making their way through the crowd of friends and family who have gathered tonight to celebrate their engagement, and you feel immensely… happy for them. 

they are good for each other, anyone who sees them knows it, with the way they complement each other’s strengths and weaknesses, facing the world together fearlessly with the other by their side. 

though, the thought of that makes your eyes wander the crowd, searching for the warm chocolate eyes you still think of as home. 

this might have been you—if you were not so quick to jump to conclusions, if he had trusted in you. maybe, maybe it would have broken you in the end, like he guessed. maybe he was right not to trust in you.

but the past remains there, in the past, and even now, you are not sure what would have been the right thing to do. it’s easy to recognize rights and wrongs in hindsight, but there was never a clear way forward, never a right way forward for a present that was not so broken and mended at the same time. 

off balance. 

like a violin that was tuned to an old orchestra’s lower frequency trying to fit in with the new one. even a single hertz of frequency makes all the difference, singling you out from the others because you are out of tune. 

the more you get along with ushijima, the more this… feeling grows in your chest, this unshakeable nostalgia to return to what once was, to stay there and never grow up. 

you had forgiven him, and he had forgiven you, both of you having made mistakes that led to where things are now. semi and tendo were the more excitable pair between you about this development, as though they are dead set on the two of you getting together. 

but it is all too late, too much history, too much hurt between you to go back to what once was. 

you could never go back. 

the understanding should not pain you as much as it does now, as if a claw is gouged into your chest and dragged down and down.

it should not hurt so much when he smiles at you across the room, and you feel the warmth radiating from him even with the distance, reading the touch of melancholy from the way he carries himself, the lines in his face, the eyes that you fell in love with. 

enough time has passed for you to move on, so why does he still make your heart race like a teenage girl? how can you still be in love with him when neither of you are the same people you used to be?

he is not the same boy you loved in high school. still quiet and stern, sure, but he is also more open with those close to him, like tendo and semi. more relaxed and more communicative with the people he cared about, more willing to share about himself than he used to. 

as if he had taken his mistakes with you as a lesson to learn from. 

you don’t know how to feel about that realization. 

on the other hand, you are not sure if you have grown as a person as much as he has. you were still quick tempered, jumping to conclusions like your life depended on it.

and if you were being frank, you could be blamed for most of this mess, from being stubborn enough to cut him off for years. 

and still he waited. 

“hey,” he sidles up to your side, cocking his head as you turn away from him, blinking rapidly, wishing the sudden welled up tears away, scratching your eyebrow and swiping at your eyes discreetly, you hope. 

“hey yourself.” you smile back at him, hoping he does not see through your shit act immediately. you know he does though, because your cheeks are hot and red from the sudden rush of regret. 

“it feels unreal that semi is engaged, doesn’t it? he always seemed like he would be the last one to settle down among us.” he remarks.

and we thought we would have been among the first. how the tables have turned.

you chuckle in response, focusing on anything but the heat radiating from his arm to yours as you stand side by side against the far wall away from most guests. like two wallflowers avoiding the party.

you guess some things never change. 

“i think the universe had a different plan in mind for all of us.” one we never saw coming.

”perhaps. but we are the ones who dictate our future, aren’t we?” his eyes are on you keenly, and you choose to ignore it. 

“maybe some things are written in the stars, long before you and i were brought into it.” it is no longer about semi, but about you, about this half wilted, half revived twisted thing between you. 

”we have a say in it, in our choices. you don’t think so?” you think you hear a hint of desperation in his voice, for you to give in—say it’s not too late, you could go back to what you were before. but it’s too fucking late. 

you thought he knew this, so why is he being insistent, even all this time?  

all this time you had been gifted with, a mere three weeks in your homeland, busy with the orchestral competition and then the showcase performances afterwards, squeezing in what time you could with your friends, including him. 

every conversation you shared with him after that first one in years had been friendly, inquiring, mindful. the mutual understanding you thought you also shared showing in his eyes, tinged with sadness and regret, reflected in yours.

”you know we can’t go back, toshi.” you curl your free hand into a fist to hide the trembling in your fingers. 

“then look forward to the future. if it hurts, don’t look back, let it stay where it belongs.” he circles your wrist, gently and firmly, stilling your shaking. he knew, he always knows.

he knows you too well, that you are choosing to stay in the known where it is safe, afraid to risk your heart, to trust once more. he is right, you would rather it stay broken than be disappointed again. 

if you dared, you could tune your violin to the higher frequency, risk the worn strings snapping as you turn the peg tighter. you could always just replace it with a new string.

though unlike violin strings, you only have one heart, worn and tired. you are not sure how much more it could take before the point of no return, and there is no replacing it. 

but it does not have any sense of self preservation when it comes to wakatoshi, yearning for you to say yes, yearning to be home again. you don’t blame it, your rationality seems to go out the window on matters concerning him. 

“why? why did you wait? i left you high and dry for years, and then i come back with little to no warning, and you are being nice to me.” you face him, wringing your hands, breathing heavily, stuck with the countless thoughts flying through your head, each and every last of them devastating. “why?”

“because you are the only one for me. you always have been.” he tugs your hands apart, holding each hand gently, rubbing circles on the back of your palms. 

“i am nothing short of irrational and horrible.” you whisper, feeling particularly awful about your past decisions, your stubbornness that stopped you from hearing him or even semi out.

“sure, but i fucked up first.” gods, why is he so good? it would be so much easier if he isn’t. “you are blaming yourself for something i had a part in. that’s not quite fair, is it?”

he tugs at your fingers for you to look at him again. “i tried to respect your wishes, really. i thought maybe you don’t feel the same way anymore, and the first few times i saw the look in your eyes, i thought i was going mad from desperation, that i was imagining it.” wakatoshi tightens his hold on you ever so slightly at his memory, but continues, “you still have that look in your eyes, the same one i do when i look at you, and it didn’t make sense to me why this should be our ending.”

“there’s too much between us, toshi.” the sounds fall from your mouth like a plea for him to let go, to move on, to stop looking back. 

“two people who still love each other belong together, don’t they?” his words make you curl your fingers around his thick digits, a sharp feeling brewing in your belly. 

anger, you recognize. it is anger that strikes you, taking hold of you as your lips curl and you scowl at the man before you. “you are being unreasonable. how could you just pretend like everything never happened? that it did not hurt for months, years? and to make things worse, i went years not speaking to you out of sheer hurt and stubbornness, only to find out that i was wrong. i should have given you a chance to explain– hear your side of the story out, something.” 

you lick your lips, trying to gather your thoughts, communicate them coherently. “but i didn’t. and you’re acting like it didn’t hurt you. like i didn’t hurt you. for years. you say you feel the same, and yet you look unfazed by my actions that should have carved your heart out of your chest. you are acting like my mistakes are so easily forgiven, like it was nothing, but you are pretending. i know it hurts.”

your neatly trimmed nails are pressing crescents into his palm even as your shoulders shake, feeling the absolute guilt heavy and crushing. because you don’t deserve him. he should be glad that he is free of you, not trying to get you to change your mind. 

“that day i saw you at the apartment. you were speaking to me as if nothing happened, trying to talk to me the way you used to. but you should have yelled at me for being stupid. threw me out on the streets. slammed the door in my face and never looked back. you should never have let me back into your life. i fucked everything up so badly and you are standing here trying to convince me to give us a second chance. do you hear yourself? are you insane?”

this is pathetic, you think. you are shaking, salty tears flowing freely down your cheeks, and sometime during your little confession of truth he had guided you to an empty corner of the room for more privacy. or to keep people from seeing you fall apart. 

but he is gaping at you, as if you just told him something he didn’t know, and you look away, ashamed of yourself. 

“no, no, look at me,” his fingers chase after your turned face, fitting in the curve of your jawbone as he firmly tilts your head to look at him. try to resist as you may, you end up giving in to him, as you always does. “that is what you are torn apart over? that you might have hurt me with your actions? not that i kept my arranged marriage a secret from you?”

his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, leaving you frustrated “but i did hurt you from my actions, didn’t i? unless you don’t love me. which i am assuming is not the case since you are trying to convince me to give us a chance. of course i was hurt you kept that a secret from me. what was i supposed to think when i heard about it from your mother and not you? but it pales in comparison to my– how unreasonable i was, dragging this easily solved issue over years. how could you say that?”

“and your reaction was perfectly reasonable, why can’t you see that?” 

“why can’t you let me go?” 

wakatoshi almost drops his hand from your words, feeling them pierce the thick layers he kept over his own heart to shield its injuries from the world. he feels the nonchalant charade he kept up crack and slip, no longer able to ignore the hurt that coursing through his veins.

“because now you’re being stupid. are you actually saying that you won’t give us a chance because you hurt me after being hurt by me and you think that the hurt you caused me is worse than the hurt i caused you? why do you feel the need to atone for your mistakes by denying yourself a shot at happiness?”

“because you have not given yourself a chance to live in a world without me.” gods— 

“i don’t follow.” he says flatly, hands dropping to his sides, visibly deflated at your repeated attempts to move on. 

“you still live in our apartment. you never let me go, never allowed yourself to experience a world without me in it,” you swallow, though the lump in your throat remains at the thought of what you are about to do—what you are about to ask of him. you so desperately want to keep silent, want to jump into his arms, but you would also never forgive yourself if you kept him from a better life. “i want you to go and live in that world, let yourself experience the happiness and joy i once brought you with someone else. someone with whom you don’t share a tainted past with. i want you to give this chance to someone else.”

“what about what i want? have you thought about that? of the possibility that i only want you, not anyone else, even if they are perfect.”

“how do you know that? you haven’t given anyone else a chance!” you surmised as much from your observations, a conclusion that you arrived at after learning that he is still living at your shared apartment, which tendo confirmed.

“because i don’t need to! gods, you are killing me.” he exclaims as loud as he could without drawing anyone’s attention, staring at you intensely. 

“i know.”

he lets out a heavy exhale, rubbing his hand over his face. “so what then?”

“go live a life without me. date someone. move out of that apartment, for the love of god.” fall in love with someone good for you, like semi did. not me. 

“and then what?” he quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“and then what?” you repeat his words back to him in disbelief. 

“what if i still want us?” his stare pierces through your defense, forcing you to take a step back before you could pull him in. 

a brittle, fragile bridge of trust stretches between you, and you are sure that it is bound to break if either of you were to take a step towards the other. 

“you haven’t even given it a shot yet.” you retort, hands crossed over your chest. this stubborn man…

“i already know so.” he states firmly, leaving no room for argument. it makes you want to strangle him and kiss him at the same time, if it were not for the plethora of reasons that would cause it all to fall apart stopping you from doing so. 

“you are so fucking stubborn.” you grit your teeth. a pair of waving arms catches your attention, as the man himself makes his way to the two of you. you roll your eyes at the glint of interest appearing in his mischievous eyes. 

“i could say the same about you.” he replies. 

you look away, pointedly avoiding his gaze as your red-haired friend approaches. tendo would never let you live it down if he hears about this conversation. 

“i suppose so.” you murmur before tendo pulls you towards the circle of people forming around the newly engaged couple who are starting their toast, leaving wakatoshi to follow. 

their beautiful story brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. your lower lip is wobbling as you dab at the corner of your eyes with a napkin that tendo offered. 

pure bliss radiates from the pair as they glance at each other lovingly, so much so that one could mistake them as newlyweds. it makes you falter in your decision, just enough that you allow yourself to think of a future where everything goes right. 

enough that you slip out from the party as wakatoshi excuses himself for an early night. 

enough that you call out after the man you who is both a stranger and your home. 

“wakatoshi!” his name leaves your lips, carrying on a life of its own. it reminds you of the boy who took flight in the gymnasium one summer day. .

“vienna.” you repress the smile that threatens to break at the sight of surprise in his warm honeyed eyes, his half-turned body with his hand still on the door. “i will meet you in vienna in a year. i–if you still feel the same way. if i could leave the past behind us.”

“just tell me where and when.” there is a tremble in his voice laced with disbelief. 

“that’s up to you to figure out.” find me, you seem to say, like this is a test of his belief and knowledge in you, and of fate. 

“see you in a year then.” a muscle in his jaw twitches as his lips part, but he presses them shut with visible turmoil shortly after, as though he had more to say but decided against it. 

you swallow with your fist grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt above where your heart lays, wishing it to calm, begging for hope to delay its flight. 

there are many things that could go awry in this plan that hinges on him getting the time and place right, including the fact that it requires you to trust him again. because trust is the foundation of any relationship—without trust, there is nothing. 

not to mention, it also depends on him not changing his mind. 

it is tricky because he might just meet someone who changes his mind in between now and the next year. tricky because you might not be able to trust him again for the decision is the hardest first step. tricky because—

“time changes all.”

no one is impervious to the passage of time, not you, not even ushijima wakatoshi. 

so why is hope still beating its wings with all its might in the confines of your ribcage?

a/n: i had a hard time figuring out how to phrase the promise, but had a breakthrough today and could not wait to post <333 enjoy y'all, lightly edited! only one more chapter to go, i am gonna cry thinking about osd ending :') (also spy the title reference in the chapter :3 i love y'all thank you for being on this wild ride with me tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers @brokenbraveakira @whosmarjj @nansfyy @illuzminate @httpshoyo @manyuyuu @hatsukeii @bakery-anon @wrimaira

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[mamawasatesttube]

Are you still accepting asks for the ship ask game? Bc if so what are your thoughts on TimSteph?

oh sure, i'll take it!!

Don’t Ship It (gently)

1. Why don’t you ship it?

so when i say i don't ship it i mean like... i like what they had in canon vis a vis "childhood sweethearts driven apart by The Horrors and they can never go back". i love divorce.

but also if i'm being honest, a lot of chuck dixon's writing of steph was really grating to me - the way he bashed ari and later zoanne to prop up steph as the Correct/Better tim love interest (she's Quirky and Fun and #NotLikeOtherGirls!!!) left a kinda bitter taste in my mouth, and made it a lot harder for me to actually like steph or tim/steph as a ship, tbh. and it's really not steph's fault she got juggled from misogynistic shithead writer to misogynistic shithead writer, but it did mean that plotlines like "steph becomes robin in order to spite tim because she saw darla kiss him against his will and didn't stop to ask any questions. this is how teen girls behave right?" made me so tired in robin '93. i honestly enjoyed the times she got to appear without tim more than their relationship, for the most part, but ... oof.

2. What would have made you like it?

lewis getting to write more than like 20 issues of the run before fucking willingham showed up lmao. lewis run was the first time in robin '93 that i actually liked seeing tim and steph together or felt like steph even had much of a character. which is wild because dixon is the one who created her! it's just that dixon only knows how to write two kinds of women: "the old ball and chain" and "quirky whitegirl who throws herself at robin do you like her do you like her do you like her you have to like her!!!!"

as opposed to lewis, who actually gave her depth, like... explained some of how her dad made her childhood shit, went into her complex feelings on him and her relationship with her mom, and made it actually read like she and tim enjoyed spending time with each other, not just "he was a boy. she was a girl. can i make it any more obvious." if he'd stuck on the book i probably would like tim/steph way more than i do.

3. Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

oh sure! i think tim and steph have a fascinating dynamic. when you pick through all the issues with dixon and with willingham and with war games and all the writers that could not stop hating steph for the crime of being a girl (which... is a pretty tall order because jesus christ so many of them wrote her so shittily), you can kinda piece together a narrative that is really juicy.

my possibly unpopular steph take is that while i know her post war games and resurrection writing was not very good, i do actually find it compelling that she set assassins on tim at bruce's orders. i think having such a demonstrable and visible example of bruce being the driving force behind every single nail in the coffin of their relationship is fun. like, to me, timsteph is a formative relationship, but never an endgame one. there's a lot of fun stuff to say about them! i just unfortunately struggle to really enjoy picking through the mess of how steph has been written, so they don't compel me all that much.

[starauras]

𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 ⚝

Caleb x you!!

warnings:nsfw mdni don’t interact please. fingering slight curse words not proof read at all. don’t like? don’t read. somewhat plot

Your hair was a mess, cheeks were red drool was spilling from your lips all cause of the man right infront of you. “Tsk tsk tsk shoulda listened to me love now she’s gotta pay the price for it hasn’t she?”

Two slender digits slid up against your gummy walls your knees buckling at the sensation, “Caleb-please slow down.” You sluggishly mustered out, Caleb’s free hand squished your cheeks together his eyes meeting yours there was a dark gleam in his eyes that made you even more weaker.

“Nah ah ah too late for that love, you should’ve told me where you were going but you didn’t.” His fingers shoved right into your soaked pussy making you yelp and jolt.

“Awh she’s already so soaked and i haven’t even done much yet.” His fingers pumped in and out of your pussy at a brutal pace you could pass out your fingers wrapped around his wrist trying to at least get some space from him but he just went even harder.

The sounds from your pussy echoed off the bedroom walls making you feel even more embarrassed, caleb’s digits then pinched at your clit making you scream more than you intended.

“Guess i should deserve some apology now shouldn’t i love?” Caleb’s eyes meet yours again his voice was commanding more than usual, you couldn’t even coherent a sentence properly you didn’t muster up an apology fast enough and ended up with a sharp smack on your clit.

“I won’t ask again, c’mon or is your brain that mushed already hm?” He was most definitely mocking you now, but he loved the sight of the way you looked he couldn’t get enough the way your eyes were slightly glossy and your bottom lip was shaking.

His large digits pruded against your walls before moving in rapid circles hitting against your g-spot, repeatedly you felt your orgasm coming to crash at you in waves.

“Caleb- please i’m gonna cum.” your voice was shaky and tears were forming up in your eyes.

Caleb stopped his movements for a moment his voice was sharp, “And why should i let you huh? you think you deserve to cum after the stunt you pulled tonight?”

You looked away unsure on what to say but the need to cum was spinning in your head and you couldn’t hold it in you needed to.

“Caleb please- i’m sorry i’m so sorry i promise i won’t do it again just please please i need to cum i need to pl-please.” You were on the verge on collapsing with pure need at this point.

“Good girl it’s a lot easier when you apologise isn’t it? go ahead cum.” Caleb’s digits pushed back into your pussy your walls clenched around him sucking his digits in your orgasm crashed over you, you moaned your juices getting all over this fingers.

His fingers kept pumping milking your orgasm after your breathing evened he took out his digits with a slick pop.

“Come with me love i’ll help you get cleaned up.” Caleb’s other hand reached out to you and he took you to the bathroom to clean you up, and you fell asleep blissfully in his arms.

a/n: welll this kinda just got into my head while watching the new banner guys ugh caleb’s mullet is just mwah. he’s fucking gorgeous anyways might make one about rafayel who knows. credits to @seulzitos for the divider!!

[short-honey-badger]

Plss make Shanks falling inlove with someone he just met but they were Shamrock runaway fiance

This one was funnnn anon. Thank you for the amazing request!

Redheads, am I right?

Pairings! Shanks x Female Reader , Mentioned! Figarland Shamrock x Female Reader

Masterlist for Shamrock and Shanks-> HERE

Shanks doesn’t know who you are or where you came from, but he does know that he wants your attention yesterday. You sit on the beach, legs splayed out in front of you, and curvy body on display as you lean back on your hands, face tilted up towards the blazing sun. You look like a dream brought to life, and the redhead wants more than anything to bow before you and worship the ground you walk on for the rest of his life, and he hasn’t even spoken to you yet.

Before he can follow his heart’s desires and act on them, he is elbowed in the ribs by his first mate. He winces and turns to glare at Benn, lips pulling into a pout.

“Stop thinking with your dick and help us unload the cargo, captain. I’m sure she’ll be right there when we get done,” Benn grumbles good naturedly, and Shanks pouts even more but does indeed tear his eyes away from where you are lounging on the beach.

You pretend that you don’t feel those vermillion eyes on your body, carefully keeping your face turned away from the redhead you can see out of the corner of your eye. You can’t believe that you’ve run into your fiance’s -ex-fiance you remind yourself- twin all the way out here in the middle of nowhere on the Grand Line. You had hoped to be done with redheads, but fate had a way of really messing with you.

It’s been three months since you escaped from Mariejois, and the sham of a marriage you would have had with one Figarland Shamrock, and those three months had been the best you’d ever had. More freedom and choice than you've ever had before. You weren’t ignorant enough to think that the Holy Knight wasn’t looking for you, but so far, he hadn’t had any luck finding you. Not yet anyway.

You sigh and reach for the book that sits on the towel beside you. You didn’t want to think about the harsh redhead right now, but it was hard not to when his literal twin wouldn’t stop making eyes at you every chance he got while he helped his crew unload cargo to be sold off in the market later on. You ignore it for as long as you can, not wanting to go back to your hotel room quite yet, and that ends up being your undoing.

Shanks turns back to the beach as soon as he is done doing his part, loping down the docks with a wave of his hand at his crew. Benn rolls his eyes but knows that there wasn't any stopping his captain when the redhead got like this, so he just left him be. Shanks hops from the wood and into the warm sands, carefully loping forward until he stands behind you, a teasing smirk pulling on his lips.

“Watcha reading?”

He laughs when you jump all over yourself, book flailing into the air, and you brace for the sharp edges to hit you only for nothing to happen. You peek your eyes open and find that your book has been caught by the same man who scared you in the first place. You snatch it back and glare at the redhead who hovers behind you, a mischievous looking look on his face as he meets your eyes.

“Something that I'm sure would go right over your head,” you snap and shift to hold the book closer to your chest, hiding away how the top you wear hardly covers your modesty. You suddenly regret allowing the sales woman to talk you into such a skimpy swimsuit when the redhead flicks his eyes down your body and you watch those vermillion eyes, so similar but so different from the burgundy ones you know, take you in with an almost revenant look on his face.

To your surprise, Shanks throws back his head and laughs, something loud and delightful that makes something in your chest light up and flutter with sudden interest. You soften your posture, relaxing in the presence of his humor.

“Yeah, you're probably right. You seem like a real smart girl,” He says and drops his head to smile at you, those eyes going soft as he points at the sand in front of you, “May I?”

You blink, taking a half second to debate if this was okay or not, before shrugging and tossing your hand at the same place, “Sure.”

Shanks smiles against and plops down, heedless of the sand that flies up to stick to his pants and his exposed shins. He can't describe the feeling that sticks in his breast now that he is by your side. The redhead has been around countless beautiful women, but there was just something about you that drew him in, something familiar and safe that he wanted to bask in for the rest of his life. He nods at the book in your hands, his smile open and friendly, “Tell me about it?”

You are once again thrown for his behavior. You are used to surly sneering and hot demands of your attention, not this innocent curiosity that Shanks seems to wield like a second skin. You lick your lips and glance down at the cover of your book, then turn it around to show the redhead.

“It’s uh called The Time Traveler’s Wife,” You begin a bit awkwardly. You’d chosen the book because it reminded you of your own dealings with the man who you had run from, what you knew would have been nothing but a problematic marriage. You explain how the main character, Henry, has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to travel through time and how his wife has to deal with his absence. It’s not a very happy book, but it had spoken to you all the same, but you weren’t about to wait around for a man who didn’t love you to begin with.

“Sounds sad, sweetheart,” Shanks murmurs when you are finished and you shrug in answer, a weary smile on your lips.

“Maybe, but it’s pretty romantic when you think about how Clare stays loyal to Henry even though he’s made her life so difficult. She’s a stronger woman than I am,” you say, and Shanks notices a distant look in your eye when you stop speaking. He can tell that there is a story there, but he doesn’t want to be rude and ask, not when he’d just met you.

“Love is a powerful thing,” he says instead and watches with a soft sort of glee as your cheeks pinken and you duck your head to look away from him. You turn your face to the waves crashing along the beach, brow furrowing for a second before it smooths away with a soft sigh.

“It can be, if given to the right person,” you say softly, and Shanks gets the impression that you are talking about yourself again, and this time, he can’t help but ask.

“Sounds like you’ve got some experience there, sweetheart. Do you wanna talk about it?”

You huff in weary amusement. You can’t help but like this redhead far more than the other one you know, that Shanks most likely knows. You find in yourself that you don’t want to keep that secret from him, and so turn, setting your book in your lap to give him your undivided attention.

“I do, and weirdly enough, you probably know him,” you say, and Shanks cocks his head, brow furrowing in confusion and waits for you to continue, “My fiance, ex-fiance really, is your twin brother, Shamrock.”

Shanks goes through a lot emotions all at once, jealousy, in knowing that his older brother had met you first, anger that his twin had obviously done something to you that caused you to run away, and relief that he had met you before Shamrock found you and dragged you back to Mariejois. He takes a moment to digest what you’ve dumped on him before ultimately shrugging and sending you a cocky smirk that makes you flush.

“Well it’s a good thing you ran into me then, isn’t sweetheart?” he drawls and boldly reaches out to curl his fingers over your cheek in a soft caress that you can’t help but lean into, “I’m much better than my brother, anyway.”

@mit-suri @sanjisleggy @nocturnalrorobin @mfreedomstuff @sordidmusings

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

PROLOGUE

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, late-night facetime calls, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash

playlist: spotify

MIDDLE SCHOOL

You had always been the type of person everyone liked. Not in a popular way, necessarily—more like in a no one had a reason to hate you kind of way. You were nice. Sweet, even. You made friends easily, smiled at everyone, and knew how to navigate the complicated web of middle school social groups without making any real enemies.

The same couldn’t be said for them.

Hot Division wasn’t a band yet. They were just four girls who stuck together because no one else really wanted to deal with them. Kang Sae-Byeok, Kang No-Eul, Kim Ji-Yeong, and Han Se-Mi—the troublemakers, the misfits, the ones teachers sighed at when they walked into class. They weren’t bad kids, exactly, but they weren’t easy either.

Ji-Yeong talked too much, always had something snarky to say back to authority figures. Se-Mi was loud and restless, constantly pushing people’s buttons just to see how far she could go. No-Eul was quiet but terrifying in her own way, her deadpan expressions making it impossible to tell what she was thinking. And Sae-Byeok… well, she was the worst of them all. Not because she was mean, but because she was impossible to read. She was sharp, observant, and had a way of staring people down until they either walked away or decided they wanted to be her enemy.

You’d tried to be nice to them once. It didn’t go well.

“Why do you even talk to everyone?” Ji-Yeong had asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at you from across the lunch table. “It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird,” you had defended, frowning. “It’s just called being friendly.”

Sae-Byeok, sitting next to her, had scoffed. “It’s fake.”

That had stung more than you wanted to admit.

After that, you stopped trying. They didn’t want to be friends with you? Fine. You had plenty of other people to talk to.

At least, that was your plan—until you caught some of your so-called friends cornering them behind the school one afternoon.

It wasn’t an unusual sight—older kids messing with younger ones, especially kids like them. Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi were too mouthy for their own good, No-Eul never bothered to stand up for herself, and Sae-Byeok… well, she usually just glared until people got tired of trying.

But today was different.

Maybe it was the way one of the boys had grabbed Ji-Yeong’s backpack, holding it just out of reach as she jumped for it, face twisted in frustration. Maybe it was how Se-Mi’s usual teasing grin had disappeared, her fists clenched at her sides. Maybe it was No-Eul, standing stiff and silent, her expression unreadable but her knuckles white.

Or maybe it was Sae-Byeok, watching it all happen with that same emotionless stare—like she expected it, like she had already decided there was nothing she could do.

Something inside you snapped.

“Hey!” Your voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp enough that even the boys turned to look at you in surprise. You stormed forward, eyes blazing. “Are you serious right now?”

One of them—Joon, a guy you had known since elementary school—blinked at you. “What?”

“You’re really picking on them?” You gestured at the girls, your voice dripping with disbelief. “That’s pathetic. What, you don’t have anything better to do?”

Joon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Relax, we’re just messing around.”

“Oh, messing around?” You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “That’s funny, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re just being a bunch of insecure little shits who get off on bullying girls younger than you.”

A beat of silence.

Ji-Yeong made a strangled choking sound—either in shock or amusement, you weren’t sure. Se-Mi’s eyes were wide, No-Eul was watching you with something almost like curiosity, and Sae-Byeok… Sae-Byeok was staring at you like she had never seen you before.

Joon’s face darkened. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem,” you snapped, stepping closer, “is that I thought you were better than this. Guess I was wrong. And trust me, Joon—if you don’t back off right now, I’ll make sure everyone knows just how pathetic you are.”

That did it.

Joon hesitated, glancing at his friends. They shifted uncomfortably. You weren’t the type of person people expected to blow up like this. You were supposed to be nice. And the thing about being nice? People listened to you.

“Tch.” Joon clicked his tongue, shoving Ji-Yeong’s backpack back into her arms. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

And just like that, they left.

You let out a breath, your anger still simmering, before turning back to the girls.

Ji-Yeong was the first to break the silence. “Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes gleaming. “That was awesome.”

Se-Mi grinned, clapping you hard on the back. “Didn’t think you had it in you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched slightly. “Yeah, well. Someone had to do it.”

No-Eul tilted her head. “You didn’t have to.”

You met her gaze evenly. “Yeah. I did.”

A pause.

Then, slowly, Sae-Byeok spoke for the first time since the whole thing started.

“…Maybe you’re not so fake after all.”

She didn’t say thank you. But you got the feeling that, in her own way, she just did.

And that was the start of everything.

HIGH SCHOOL

The Kang household was always a little chaotic.

Not in the way Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi were chaotic, with their constant teasing and impulsive antics—but in a quieter, lived-in way. Their apartment was small, cramped even, but it never felt suffocating. It was warm. Comfortable. A place you had come to know as well as your own home over the years.

And right now, it was a mess.

“Ji-Yeong, stop blowing that in my face,” you grumbled, waving a hand in front of your nose as she exhaled another cloud of smoke toward you on purpose.

She grinned, eyes already a little glassy as she passed the joint back to Se-Mi. “Relax, sweetheart. It’s secondhand at best.”

Se-Mi took a hit, exhaling toward the ceiling before stretching out on the floor. “You should try it sometime,” she drawled, grinning up at you. “Might help with all that stress you carry around.”

“I’m not stressed,” you muttered, flipping through your notes.

“You’re always stressed.”

No-Eul, sitting cross-legged on the couch beside you, barely looked up from her textbook. “She’s stressed because she actually does her homework.”

Se-Mi groaned dramatically. “God, you sound just like a responsible older sister.”

“I am a responsible older sister.”

“Debatable.”

You snorted, turning to Sae-Byeok, who was sitting beside No-Eul, her legs stretched out on the coffee table. “Are you really going to let them just slack off like this?”

She shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Ji-Yeong made a face at you. “See? Sae-Byeok gets it.”

You sighed, shaking your head fondly. “You guys are hopeless.”

Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi continued their lazy bickering, letting the music from Se-Mi’s old speaker fill the apartment. It was some rock song you didn’t recognize, the bass thrumming through your chest.

No-Eul, always the most responsible of the group, was actually getting work done, her pen scratching against her notebook. You admired that about her—quiet, steady, always moving forward.

Sae-Byeok, on the other hand, was watching you.

“You’re really not gonna try it?” she asked, nodding toward Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come on. You don’t even smoke.”

She smirked slightly. “Doesn’t mean I don’t think it’d be funny to see you high.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, nudging her knee with yours.

She didn’t move away.

It was getting late when you all finally decided to move.

No-Eul glanced at the time, closing her textbook with a sigh. “We should go pick up Cheol.”

Sae-Byeok groaned but got up anyway, stretching her arms over her head. “Come on,” she said, grabbing her jacket. “You coming?”

You nodded, grabbing your own bag before nudging Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi with your foot. “You two staying here?”

Se-Mi waved a lazy hand. “We’ll catch up later.”

“Try not to get arrested,” Ji-Yeong added, smirking.

You rolled your eyes as you followed the Kang sisters out the door.

The walk to Cheol’s after-school program wasn’t far. The air was cool, the sky darkening into early evening. The three of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the city sounds filling the spaces between your words.

“You’re over at our place a lot,” No-Eul commented after a moment, glancing at you.

You shrugged. “You guys make it easy to stick around.”

Sae-Byeok smirked. “That’s just because we’re more fun than your other friends.”

You gave her a look. “What other friends?”

She snorted. “Fair point.”

The conversation lapsed again, and then—

“…You really didn’t have to stand up for us back then, you know,” Sae-Byeok said suddenly, her voice quieter, more thoughtful.

You blinked, surprised by the shift in topic. “What?”

“In middle school,” she clarified. “With Joon and his friends.”

You frowned. “Of course I did.”

Sae-Byeok glanced at you, her expression unreadable. “Why?”

You hesitated, then shrugged. “Because you’re my friends.”

No-Eul hummed in agreement. “That’s just how she is.”

“That’s not how most people are,” Sae-Byeok muttered.

You nudged her gently with your shoulder. “Well, maybe you just had shitty people in your life before.”

She huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t argue.

By the time you reached the community center, Cheol was already waiting outside, his small backpack slung over his shoulders. His face lit up when he saw the three of you.

“Noona!” he said, running up to No-Eul and Sae-Byeok. Then, turning to you, he grinned. “And other Noona!”

You laughed, ruffling his hair. “Hey, kiddo. Ready to go?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Did you bring snacks?”

Sae-Byeok rolled her eyes. “You think we’re made of money?”

Cheol pouted.

You reached into your bag, pulling out a candy bar you had grabbed earlier. “Here,” you said, handing it to him with a smile.

His face brightened. “You’re my favorite Noona.”

Sae-Byeok scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

No-Eul just shook her head fondly as the four of you started walking home, the city buzzing softly around you.

And for the first time in a long time, Sae-Byeok thought that maybe—just maybe—letting you into their lives had been the best decision they ever made.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Private Lessons

Rating: Teen and up Audiences

Warning: party theme...

Paring: Chris Sturniolo x !dancer reader

Fandom: Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: being a dancer has it's perks...

Credits to @muwapsturniolo and our dancing convo!

Madison always threw the best parties. She had this way of making everyone feel like a VIP, even if it was just a random Friday night at her house.

The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the energy in the room was electric. As one of her backup dancers, I was used to letting loose when we weren’t on stage. So when Sexyy Redd’s “SkeeYee” blasted through the speakers, my body moved instinctively.

I danced with the girls at first, laughing as we hyped each other up, our movements sharp and effortless from muscle memory. But then—just as I dropped low, rolling my hips to the beat—I felt someone behind me.

Chris.

I didn’t have to turn around to know. I could feel his presence, the way his hands hovered just close enough to make my skin tingle. He matched my movements seamlessly, his chest almost brushing my back.

Okay, so he could dance.

I smirked, pressing back just enough to test him.

Chris didn’t back down. Instead, his lips brushed my ear, voice low and teasing.

"Damn… I might need some private lessons."

I bit my lip, glancing over my shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but those blue eyes held something dangerous.

"Think you can keep up?" I shot back.

Chris just grinned. "Guess I’ll have to find out."

I nearly forgot about it. People say things at parties all the time. I didn’t expect him to follow through.

But then I checked my work schedule, and there it was:

New Private Lesson Booking: Chris Sturniolo.

This man actually signed up for a private dance lesson.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I texted Madison.

Me: "Your boy's brother really just booked a private dance lesson. What do I even do with him??"

Madison: "LMAO don’t play, he’s lowkey smooth. Have fun with that 😭"

I wasn’t gonna lie—I was intrigued.

Chris showed up wearing sweats, a loose hoodie, and that cocky little smirk that made my job a thousand times harder.

"You came prepared," I teased, arms crossed.

"Of course." He leaned against the mirror, tilting his head. "Gotta impress my instructor, right?"

I rolled my eyes, motioning for him to stand in front of me. "Alright, let’s see what we’re working with."

Chris mirrored my stance, waiting for direction. I stepped closer, placing my hands on his shoulders to adjust him.

"Relax," I murmured.

"You’re tellin’ me to relax?" He chuckled, shifting his weight. "Kinda hard when you’re all up in my space like this."

I smirked. "You did ask for private lessons."

"Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be this hands-on." His voice dropped slightly, teasing, but there was an edge to it.

I raised a brow. "You scared, Sturniolo?"

Chris scoffed. "Nah. Just wondering how long it’ll take before you admit you like me touching you."

Oh.

My stomach flipped, but I refused to let him win that easily.

"Focus," I said, stepping back before he could see the effect he had on me. "We’re starting with basics."

For the next hour, I walked him through body rolls, footwork, and rhythm control. He wasn’t bad—actually, he picked things up pretty fast.

Every now and then, though, he’d find a way to get under my skin.

"Am I doing this right?" he asked at one point, purposefully messing up just so I’d correct him.

I sighed, stepping behind him. "No, your stance is too stiff. Here—" I placed my hands on his waist, guiding his movements.

Chris turned his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper. "You sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to touch me?"

I huffed a laugh. "You’re so annoying."

"You love it."

I didn’t answer.

Because, unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

Chris stretched his arms, rolling out his shoulders. "Not bad for a first-timer, huh?"

"You did alright," I admitted, trying to sound unimpressed.

He smirked. "You gonna reward me for my hard work?"

I raised a brow. "And what exactly do you want as a reward?"

Chris stepped closer, tilting his head. "Dunno. Maybe another dance?" His voice dropped. "Or… you could just admit you like having me around."

I exhaled, shaking my head. "If I admit it, will you shut up?"

"Probably not," he said, grinning. "But I’d love to hear you say it anyway."

I sighed, crossing my arms. "Fine. You’re not the worst student I’ve ever had."

Chris clutched his chest dramatically. "Wow. So heartfelt."

"Take it or leave it, Sturniolo."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I’m taking it. But don’t worry, instructor—this isn’t the last time you’ll see me."

Something told me he was right.

And for some reason… I didn’t mind one bit.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️